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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine Vol XXXIII No. 4  October
+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 XXXIII No. 4  October 1848
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: George R. Graham
+        Robert T. Conrad
+
+Release Date: September 28, 2009 [EBook #30116]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, OCTOBER 1848 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David T. Jones, Juliet Sutherland and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at
+http://www.pgdpcanada.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Sir W. C. Rofs, R.A.       A.B. Ross
+THE UNMARRIED BELLE
+Engraved Expressly for Graham's Magazine]
+
+
+GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE.
+
+VOL. XXXIII.    PHILADELPHIA, OCTOBER, 1848.    No. 4.
+
+
+
+
+THE UNMARRIED BELLE.
+
+BY ENNA DUVAL.
+
+[SEE ENGRAVING.]
+
+
+  Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted;
+  If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters returning
+  Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment;
+  That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain.
+  Patience; accomplish thy labor; accomplish thy work of affection!
+  Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike;
+  Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the heart is made godlike,
+  Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered more worthy of heaven!
+  LONGFELLOW'S EVANGELINE.
+
+
+I was loitering beside my mother's chair, in her drawing-room, one day
+on my return from school, listening to the conversation between her
+and some morning visiters; they were discussing most earnestly the
+merits of a reigning belle.
+
+"She is, indeed, perfectly beautiful," exclaimed my mother. "I looked
+at her the other evening, when I saw her at the last concert, and
+thought a more lovely creature could not exist. The music excited her,
+and her cheek was delicately flushed, which heightened the brilliancy
+of her eyes; her lovely lips were just half apart and trembling with
+feeling. Then she understands so well the art and mystery of dressing.
+While other young ladies around her were in the full pride of
+brilliant _costume_, the eye felt freshened and relieved when looking
+at her--there was such a repose in her _demi-toilette_. The simple
+white dress was so pure and chaste in its effect, displaying only her
+lovely throat, and her beautiful chestnut-brown hair was gathered up
+carelessly but neatly, while over one tiny ear fell a rich cluster of
+ringlets; then, with all her beauty and exquisite taste, she is so
+unconscious, so unstudied. That the world should call Mary Lee a
+beauty, I do not wonder; but that society should pronounce her a
+belle, is, indeed, a surprise to me--she is so unassuming, so free
+from art and _affectation_."
+
+"So unlike her mother," exclaimed a lady, eagerly. "I think Mary's
+success in society is as gratifying as unexpected to Mrs. Lee. She
+delayed her _entree_ into society as long as she could, and used to
+lament most piteously to me the trouble she expected to have with her,
+from her total want of animation and spirit. But now she seems to have
+entirely forgotten her former misgivings, for she takes many airs on
+herself about Mary's popularity, talking all the while as though
+scarcely any one was good enough for the husband of the daughter she
+pronounced one year ago a stupid, inanimate creature."
+
+"Ah!" said a gentleman, laughing, "the tie now is between young Morton
+and Langley, I believe. As Langley is the more _distingue_ of the two,
+I suppose the mother will favor him; but if one can judge from
+appearances, the daughter prefers Harry Morton."
+
+"I can assure you," interrupted Mr. Foster, an intimate friend of our
+family, "the daughter has quite as much admiration for the rich Mr.
+Langley as the mother. There is a little incident connected with that
+same concert Mrs. Duval speaks of, that convinces me of the daughter's
+powers of management."
+
+"Shame on you, Philip Foster!" said my mother, "you should not talk
+thus of any lady, much less of Mary Lee."
+
+"What was the incident, Mr. Foster?" eagerly inquired the other
+ladies.
+
+"Yes, do tell us, Phil," urged his gentleman friend.
+
+My mother looked reproachfully at Mr. Foster, but he shook his head
+laughingly at her, as he said,
+
+"Hear me first, dear Mrs. Duval, before you judge. I was at Mrs. Lee's
+two or three mornings since. Several visitors were in the
+drawing-rooms, among them Harry Morton, as usual. I was looking at a
+new and costly collection of engravings on the _commode_ table, when I
+overheard Harry Morton ask Miss Lee if he should join their party at
+the concert the next evening. She replied that she regretted they
+were not going, for she had already promised her mother to dine and
+spend the evening quietly with an old friend. The next evening at the
+concert the whole Lee party were there, and our belle, Miss Mary, was
+brought in by young Langley, just newly arrived from Europe. The
+unconscious _demi-toilette_ Mrs. Duval speaks so admiringly of, had
+the desired effect. Langley's taste has been chastened by a voyage
+over the Atlantic; the noisy over-dressing of his countrywomen would,
+of course, annoy his delicate sense--therefore was the simple home
+costume adopted in preference, and the "_available_" Mr. Langley
+secured as an admirer."
+
+"I do not believe any such thing, Philip!" exclaimed my mother,
+indignantly. "I will answer for it, there was some mistake. Mary Lee
+would scorn a falsehood, and is entirely above all artifice or design.
+Mrs. Lee is said to be maneuvering and worldly; if she is, her
+daughter is entirely free from such influences."
+
+"How did Morton take it, Phil?" asked the other friend, laughingly.
+
+"He was with me," replied Mr. Foster, evidently enjoying with some
+little malice my kind mother's annoyance, "we had dropped into the
+concert by chance together. He looked thunderstruck, but said nothing,
+and did not approach her during the whole evening. She knew he was
+there, however, for I saw her return his cold bow in a painfully
+embarrassed manner."
+
+The entrance of some other visiters, connected with the Lees, put an
+end to the conversation. That night, when my nurse was undressing me
+for bed, I said,
+
+"What's a belle, Katy?"
+
+"A very rich and beautiful young lady," replied my nurse, "who has
+plenty of lovers, and gets married very soon."
+
+"Will I ever be a belle?" I innocently inquired, as she gathered up my
+rebellious hair under my cap.
+
+"No," she replied, in impatient tones, "your hair is too straight, and
+your skin too yellow; but you must do as you're told to, or else
+nobody will even love you; so go to sleep right away."
+
+I was silenced, and thus obedience was obtained by appealing to my
+love of approbation. Many years passed, bringing me to womanhood, when
+I discovered the truth of Nurse Katy's reason why I should not be a
+belle. Other people decided that my "hair was too straight, and my
+skin too yellow," to use Katy's homely, rough words; but her _brusque_
+admonition, that made me go to sleep so quickly when a child, acted
+upon me as a woman. My approbativeness once roused, I managed, despite
+my want of personal attractions, to secure a host of friends; and the
+lesson I then learned, to please others rather than myself for the
+sake of gaining their love, has caused my life thus far to be very
+sunny and happy, even more so than if I had been the belle my childish
+fancy desired.
+
+One of Nurse Katy's principal attributes of a belle, however, Mary Lee
+was deficient in. She did not get married at all--and Mary Lee she
+remained all her life. But she was one of the loveliest old maids in
+the world, and quite as popular in our circle as she had been in her
+own. She had been confined many years with an invalid mother and
+paralytic father, but after their death some time, she re-entered
+society; and her house was the favorite resort of the new set of young
+people, as it had been in her young days. She gave the most delightful
+parties, planned the most pleasant enjoyments for us, and although
+acknowledging herself to be an old maid, she still retained her
+youthful feelings unimpaired.
+
+Her mind remained in a fresh, healthy state, and her disposition was
+still sweet and joyous. How we all loved her; she was our confidante,
+adviser and friend. She was still pretty, and might have proved a very
+formidable rival had she chosen to enter society as a young lady; but
+she preferred being regarded by us as an elder friend. The young
+ladies grouped around her as younger sisters; and one half the young
+gentlemen would have married her _instanter_, notwithstanding she was
+ten or fifteen years their senior. Old maid as she was, strange to
+tell, she was a promoter of marriages. The ill-natured called Mary Lee
+a match-maker. She certainly did interest herself very much with
+lovers, fathoming all the little mysteries of their love-quarrels, and
+setting every thing quite straight, even when they seemed in
+inextricable confusion.
+
+Miss Lee had been very fond of my mother, and extended to me the same
+regard, therefore I was, notwithstanding the difference in our ages,
+on a more intimate footing with her than her other young friends. One
+day, as we were discussing the merits of an approaching wedding, the
+conversation assumed a confidential tone.
+
+"Indeed, Enna," she exclaimed, laughingly, "there is nothing more
+interesting to me than a couple of lovers full of romance, poetry, and
+perfectly blind and uncaring as to the future. I love to watch them in
+courtship, lend them a helping hand in the quicksands of that
+dangerous but delicious season; and then it makes me so happy to
+congratulate them after their troubles are all over, and they are
+happily married."
+
+"Ah! if they only could be sure of happiness," I replied.
+
+"Shame on you for that old maid's croak!" she said, with a bright
+look; "those who are not happy in married life, would never be happy
+in any situation. There should be no old maids or old bachelors, Enna;
+we would all be happier married; we fail in fulfilling our missions
+when we remain single. Hunt up a lover, Enna; let me watch your
+courtship, and rejoice over your wedding. As a clever friend of mine
+once said, we think poetry as lovers, but in married life we act true
+poetry."
+
+I opened my eyes with astonishment, and innocently asked, "Why is it,
+then, you have never married?"
+
+A shadow crossed over her face, and I felt a desire to recall the
+question, for I feared I had called up disagreeable reminiscences, but
+the next instant her countenance was as beaming and calm as before.
+
+"I will tell you, Enna," she said, as she caressingly rested her head
+on my shoulder, "why I have never married; but to do that I must
+relate the history of my rather uneventful life. My story has but
+little interest, but it will gratify the curiosity of one who loves
+me. My childhood was spent with an old aunt. She took me when I was a
+delicate wee thing, and I remained with her until her death, which
+took place when I was nearly grown. She was a dear, good old lady, and
+with her my life passed most happily; my short visits home gave me
+little pleasure, for my mother was a very worldly, ambitious woman,
+and displayed but little tenderness for me, which, when contrasted
+with my aunt's fondness and indulgence, made me feel quite as a
+stranger in my family; and when Aunt Mary died, I wept as bitterly,
+and felt as lonely and bereft of friends, as though I did not possess
+a mother, father, and sisters. The two years after my aunt's death
+were spent in close attention to those accomplishments which had been
+neglected in my education as unnecessary, and which my mother deemed
+so essential; and not a day passed without my poor mother's
+exclamations of despair over me.
+
+"'One comfort there is, however,' she would say, 'your aunt's little
+fortune of a few thousands will be exaggerated in society, and people
+will forget your _mauvaise honte_ in giving you credit for being an
+heiress.'
+
+"But the report of my being an heiress was not needed, for when I
+entered society, to my mother's amazement, I created quite a
+sensation. I had been looked upon as a pretty girl always; but my
+mother had so often declared that I was so inanimate and innocent, she
+never would be able to do any thing with me, and my pretty face would
+be of no service to me, that I looked upon myself as quite an ordinary
+person, and was as much surprised at my belle-hood as my family. I
+wonder my little head was not turned with the attentions I received,
+so unused as I had been to admiration; it might have been, however,
+had not a disappointment--a bitter, heart-aching disappointment,
+wearied me of all this adulation and attention.
+
+"Soon after my entrance into society, I became acquainted with a Mr.
+Morton--agreeable, good-looking, and attentive he was, of
+course--quite an acquisition to me in my circle of admirers. His
+worldly qualifications were not of so brilliant a nature as to attract
+my prudent mother's fancy, for he was only a young lawyer of slender
+means and moderate practice. I do not think she ever dreamed of the
+interest he excited in me, but looked upon him as one of the crowd of
+attendants necessarily surrounding a belle. But how differently I
+regarded him. The piles of costly bouquets I received daily, gained
+but little attention from me, unless I discerned among them the tiny
+bunch of sweet-violets, tea-roses, and mignonette, which he once in a
+great while sent me. In my ball-tablets my eyes sought the dances
+marked down for him; and when he was my partner, the dance, generally
+so wearisome, was only too short, too delightful; the reminiscence of
+that happy time makes a silly girl of me again. My mother never
+imagined he aspired to my hand--she would have looked aghast at the
+bare mention of such a probability; but she regarded him as a friend,
+and he was a great favorite with her. She used to say young men like
+Harry Morton, that knew their places, were invaluable acquaintances
+for a belle; thus were we thrown a great deal together. She was so
+blind to his real position with me, quick-sighted as she generally was
+in other things, I was permitted to have him for my partner in
+dancing, even for several quadrilles during an evening; he was my
+constant attendant in my daily rides on horseback, and my mother never
+hesitated to call upon him if we were at any time in need of an escort
+to a ball or opera. He was upon the footing of a brother or cousin in
+the family; but, ah! how dear was he to me. Without any actual
+explanation, I felt sure of Harry Morton's love. I never had any
+doubts or jealousies--we seemed to perfectly understand each other. I
+never looked forward to our future--I was too quietly happy in the
+present. I only dated from one meeting to another--from the dinner to
+the party, when he would be ready to hand us from our carriage, to
+take me off my father's arm in compliance with my mother's constant
+inquiry and request of, 'Where's Harry Morton? Here, Harry, do take
+charge of Mary,' a request which he always seemed delighted to obey.
+Then, after the happy good-night, I would lie my head on the pillow to
+dream of him and the morning ride we would take together. Why he never
+spoke to me of his love I cannot tell. It might have been that
+feelings of delicacy restrained him; my father was rich, while he was
+but a poor young lawyer; then report had made me an heiress in my own
+right, as well as a belle, to my worldly mother's great content. That
+he loved me I am sure, though he never told me with his lips.
+
+"One morning my mother said to me, 'Do not make any engagement for
+to-morrow, Mary; we must dine _en famille_ with dear old Mrs. Langley;
+we have not been there for a month.'
+
+"Now this Mrs. Langley was a person of great consideration in my
+mother's eyes. She was very wealthy, and, moreover, had been at the
+head of the fashionable world for many years. Since my entrance into
+society, she had been quite an invalid, and rarely appeared in public,
+but it gratified her exceedingly to have her friends around her, for
+she dreaded yielding up her command in the world. My mother was an
+especial favorite of hers; and after I had taken such a prominent
+situation in society, she expressed great regard for me. Once in a
+month or so we spent a day with her. She lived in great style--a
+stately dinner, and a stupid, grand, heavy evening was the amount of
+the visit. How I used to dread the coming of the day; it was the only
+time I was separated from Harry, for Mrs. Langley being very
+exclusive, and making no new acquaintances, he had no _entree_ there.
+I used to sing for her, arrange her worsteds, tell her of the parties
+and different entertainments, and read to her her son's last letter.
+She had only one son, and he had been in Europe for two or three
+years. He was her idol, and she never tired talking of him. Dear old
+lady, my conscience smote me many times for the feelings of impatient
+weariness and _ennui_ I would give way to during one of her tedious
+dinner parties.
+
+"The following morning after my mother had announced the visit of
+penance, Harry Morton made his appearance in our drawing-rooms, as
+usual, with the other morning visiters. Every one was talking of a new
+singer who was to make her _debut_ on that evening.
+
+"'May I join your party at the concert this evening?' Harry asked me,
+in a low voice.
+
+"'I regret exceedingly,' I replied, 'that we are not going to the
+concert. I have already promised mamma to spend a quiet day and
+evening with an old friend of hers. You must listen attentively to
+this new _donna_, and tell me all about her voice if you go.'
+
+"'I do not think I shall go,' he replied, in low, earnest tones, 'for
+I could not enjoy the concert if not with you.' A turn in the general
+conversation drew us more into notice, and some ladies and gentlemen
+entering, put an end to all further intercourse between us; how long I
+remembered and cherished those last words of his. When I made my
+appearance in my mother's room at 5 o'clock, shawl and hood in hand,
+she regarded me from head to foot smilingly.
+
+"'What new caprice to-day?' she said, 'and yet I must confess it is
+very becoming to you.'
+
+"I had felt too languid to dress much, and as the weather was warm,
+spring being quite far advanced, I had chosen a simple white mull robe
+for the visit to our old friend, knowing that we should meet with but
+few visiters there. This I explained apologetically to my mother, who
+tapped me with her fan good-naturedly, saying that beauties were
+cunning creatures, they liked to show once in a while they could defy
+the aid of ornament. The first few months of my entrance into society
+my mother superintended, with great attention, all my _toilettes_; but
+near the close of the season she fell into the general opinion, that
+what ever I did was exactly right; and poor little me, that one short
+half-year before had no right to express an opinion upon so grave a
+subject as dress, was now constantly appealed to; and whatever style I
+adopted was perfect in her eyes. Society had placed its stamp upon me,
+I could pass current as a coin of high value to her.
+
+"When I reached Mrs. Langley's, I found the old lady attended by but
+one gentleman, who, beside ourselves, was her only visiter. What was
+my surprise to hear her introduce him as her son, Templeton Langley.
+The dinner passed more pleasantly than usual, for Mr. Langley made
+himself very agreeable. After dinner he proposed we should go to the
+concert, as he felt an interest in the new _primadonna_, having heard
+her at her _debut_ in Europe. I made an objection, which was overruled
+by Mrs. Langley's expressing a desire--strange for her--to go
+likewise; and we went. I had not been ten minutes in the room when, on
+lifting my eyes, the first person I saw was Harry Morton looking
+sternly at me. Foolishly, I grew embarrassed, my face burned, and my
+whole frame trembled with nervous agitation. He did not approach me,
+but gave me only a cold bow. 'He thinks me guilty of falsehood,' I
+said to myself. How wretchedly passed the evening, and yet I have no
+doubt I was an object of envy to many of my young lady friends. The
+rich _distingue_, Templeton Langley showed himself my devoted admirer,
+while his mother, the acknowledged leader of _ton_, sat beside us
+smiling approvingly. My indifferent, cold manner, my simple costume,
+and my beautiful face, completed that evening the conquest of the
+fastidious, fashionable young man. You cannot imagine the delight of
+my mother, when day after day found Templeton Langley constantly
+beside me, she could scarcely restrain her exultation; while I, poor
+child, listened with aching, throbbing senses for the approach of one
+who never came near me. Two or three weeks passed in a whirl of
+gayety. It was the close of the season, and one or two brides in our
+circle made the parties very constant. Mrs. Langley proposed that our
+family should join her son and herself in their summer visit to the
+Lakes; accordingly we did so, and we spent more than three months
+traveling. Ere the close of those three months, Templeton Langley
+offered himself to me. I could not describe to you the scene that
+ensued between my mother and myself when I rejected him. She was a
+worldly woman, and my conduct seemed perfectly wild to her. She
+remonstrated, persuaded, then reproached me in impatient, angry tones.
+My father was a quiet, amiable man, and rarely interfered with my
+mother in her management, but he fortunately shook off enough of his
+lethargy to come to my rescue at this time.
+
+"'If Mary does not love Mr. Langley,' he said, 'why urge her to marry
+him? Do not scold the poor child,' and he drew me toward him tenderly.
+
+"Templeton Langley was rather an indifferent person in every way. His
+wealth, combined with his situation in the fashionable world, placed
+him in a fictitious light; but he had little intelligence, no
+originality, and only a passable personal appearance. I was constantly
+drawing the comparison between him and Harry Morton. Harry was so
+handsome, so brilliant in conversation--and this thought rendered poor
+Mr. Langley, with all his fastidious, elegant manners, quite
+unbearable to me. To think of being tied to such a man for life was
+perfect martyrdom for me; and although hitherto so yielding, I showed
+myself on this occasion obstinate. Floods of tears I shed, and my
+mother fancied at first she could overcome my 'ridiculous
+sentimentality,' as she called it, but in vain; and finding a friend
+in my father, I remained firm. I felt more sorry for old Mrs. Langley,
+who was, indeed, terribly distressed, but she treated me very kindly,
+and exonerated me from all blame. She was, however, really very fond
+of me, and had set her heart upon having me for a daughter. Mr.
+Langley returned to Europe, and for many months our circle of friends
+were quite at a loss to know whether he had offered, been accepted,
+or refused, or whether he had only flirted with me. My mother felt too
+disappointed to boast of the rejection; and, moreover, she was so
+occupied in bringing out my sister, Emma, as to have little time to
+think of me or my affairs. My sister was but seventeen, three years
+younger than I, but much nearer my age in appearance. I found myself
+now of but secondary consideration in my mother's eyes. I fear she
+really disliked me then. She was an ambitious woman, and had set her
+heart upon my making a brilliant match; this favorite hope of hers I
+had blighted, and feeling little interest in society, I became of less
+consequence, for my sad, absent manner made me, of course,
+uninteresting; therefore, as my reign as a belle was over, my poor
+mother now sought to dismiss me from her mind and occupy herself with
+other objects.
+
+"Harry Morton had gone to the Southwest ere we returned from our
+summer's journey, and we never met again. A year or so afterward I
+heard of his marriage with a dashing southern belle, and he is now a
+distinguished man at the South. After these perplexing, unfortunate
+misunderstandings, my health failed, and for a long while I was an
+invalid, rarely appearing in society. My two sisters, Emma and Alice,
+were more lucky than I, for they married happily, and with my mother's
+gratified approbation--for they each made the 'best match of their
+season.' Neither one was so pretty as I had been, and as my mother
+used to ejaculate,
+
+"'Thank Heaven! neither Emma nor Alice are belles; they at least will
+not trouble me with their exaggerated notions about love and all that
+nonsense.'
+
+"I passed a miserable, wretched existence for a year or more after
+Harry and I were separated. How earnestly I prayed for death, so
+completely prostrated was my spirit by my disappointment. I felt as
+lonely as I had at the time of dear Aunt Mary's death. In time,
+however, I aroused myself from my morbid feelings, and in reading and
+study found at first occupation, then strength and content.
+
+"The week after my youngest sister was married my father was stricken
+down with paralysis. I was the only one at home with my parents, for
+my bride sister had sailed for Europe the day after her wedding, and
+Emma was far distant in her Southern home, having married a wealthy
+South Carolinian two years before. Faithfully I devoted myself to my
+father, and when my mother, a year afterward, was seized with a
+painful, lingering disease, I made myself so necessary to her comfort,
+that she at last acknowledged, that what had appeared to be her
+greatest trouble had proved her greatest blessing. She altered very
+much before her death, and lost entirely all those worldly feelings
+which had actuated her during her early life. She suffered for many
+years at times agonizing pain, and during this time I was sole
+companion and nurse to my parents. Often I thanked Providence for
+having denied to me my early love, granting to me in lieu an
+opportunity of fulfilling the most holy of duties. See, Enna, to what
+an unromantic and yet enviable state of mind I at last attained.
+Believe me, dearest, we never should grieve over unavoidable troubles,
+for many times they are but the rough husk of that sweet kernel--a
+hidden blessing."
+
+
+
+
+ZENOBIA.
+
+BY MYRON L. MASON.
+
+
+     'Twas holyday in Rome. Her sevenfold hills
+    Were trembling with the tread of multitudes
+    Who thronged her streets. Hushed was the busy hum
+    Of labor. Silent in the shops reposed
+    The implements of toil. A common love
+    Of country, and a zeal for her renown,
+    Had warmed all hearts, and mingled for a day
+    Plebian ardor with patrician pride.
+    The sire, the son, the matron and the maid,
+    Joined in bestowing on their emperor
+    The joyous benedictions of the state.
+    Alas! about that day's magnificence
+    Was spread a web of _shame_! The victor's sword
+    Was stained with cowardice--his dazzling fame
+    Tarnished by insult to a fallen woman.
+    Returning from his conquests in the East,
+    Aurelian led in his triumphant train
+    Palmyra's beauteous queen, Zenobia,
+    Whose only crime had been the love she bore
+    To her own country and her household gods.
+
+     Long had the Orient owned the sovereign sway
+    Of Rome imperial, and in forced submission
+    Had bowed the neck to the oppressor's yoke.
+    The corn of Syria, her fruits and wares,
+    The pearls of India, Araby's perfumes,
+    The golden treasures of the mountains, all
+    Profusely poured in her luxurious lap,
+    Crowned to the full her proud magnificence.
+    Rome regal, throned on her eternal hills,
+    With power supreme and wide-extended hand,
+    Plundered the prostrate nations without stint
+    Of all she coveted, and, chiefly thou,
+    O Liberty, the birthright boon of Heaven.
+    But Rome had passed her noon; her despotism
+    Was overgrown; an earthquake was at work
+    At her foundations; and new dynasties,
+    Striking their roots in ripening revolutions,
+    Were soon to sway the destinies of realms.
+
+     The East was in revolt. The myriad seeds
+    Of dark rebellion, sown by tyranny,
+    And watered by the blood of patriots slain,
+    Were springing into life on every hand.
+    Success was alternating in this strife
+    'Twixt power and _right_, and anxious Victory,
+    With balance poised, the doubtful issue feared.
+    Amid the fierce contention, 'mid the din
+    Of war's sublime encounter, and the crash
+    Of falling systems old, Palmyra's queen
+    Followed her valiant lord, Palmyra's king.
+    Ever beside him in the hour of peril,
+    She warded from his breast the battle's rage;
+    And in the councils of the cabinet
+    Her prudent wisdom was her husband's guide.
+
+     Domestic treason, with insidious stab,
+    Snatched from Zenobia's side her gallant lord,
+    And threw into her hand the exigencies
+    Of an unstable and capricious throne.
+    Yet was her genius not inadequate.
+    The precepts of experience, intertwined
+    With intellectual power of lofty grade,
+    Combined to raise Palmyra's beauteous queen
+    High in the golden scale of moral greatness.
+    Under the teachings of the good Longinus
+    The streams of science flowed into her mind;
+    And, like the fountain-fostered mountain lake,
+    Her soul was pure as its ethereal food.
+    The patronage bestowed on learned men
+    Declared her love for letters. The rewards,
+    Rich and unnumbered, she conferred on merit
+    Her own refined, exalted taste betrayed.
+    Her graceful and majestic figure, crowned
+    With beauty such as few but angels wear,
+    Like the rich casing that surrounds the gem,
+    Heightened the splendor of her brilliant genius.
+    Equally daring on the battle-field
+    And in the chase, her prudence and her courage,
+    Displayed in many a hot emergency,
+    Had twined victorious laurel round her brow.
+    Under her rule Palmyra's fortunes rose
+    To an unequalled altitude, and wealth
+    Flowed in upon her like a golden sea,
+    Her wide dominion, stretching from the Nile
+    To the far Euxine and Euphrates' flood--
+    Her active commerce, whose expanded range
+    Monopolized the trade of all the East--
+    Her stately capital, whose towers and domes
+    Vied with proud Rome in architectural grace--
+    Her own aspiring aims and high renown--
+    All breathed around the Asiatic queen
+    An atmosphere of greatness, and betrayed
+    Her bold ambition, and her rivalry
+    With the imperial mistress of the world.
+
+     But 't is the gaudiest flower is soonest plucked;
+    The sturdiest oak first feels the builder's axe.
+    Palmyra's rising greatness had awaked
+    The jealousy of Rome, and Fortune looked
+    On her prosperity with envious eye.
+    Under the golden eagles of the empire,
+    Aurelian's soldiers swept the thirsty sands,
+    And poured into Palmyra's palmy plains,
+    A mighty host hot for the battle-field.
+    Borne on her gallant steed, the warrior queen
+    The conflict sought, and led her eager troops
+    Into the stern encounter. Like the storm
+    Of their own desert plain, innumerable,
+    They rushed upon the foe, and courted danger.
+    Amid the serried ranks, whose steel array
+    Glowed in the noonday sun, and threw a flood
+    Of wavy sheen into the fragrant air,
+    Zenobia rode; and, like an angry spirit,
+    Commissioned from above to chastise men,
+    Where'er she moved was death. There was a flash
+    Of scorn that lighted up her fiery eye,
+    A glance of wrath upon her countenance--
+    There was a terror in her frenzied arm
+    That struck dismay into the boldest heart.
+    Alas for her, Fortune was unpropitious!
+    Her fearless valor found an overmatch
+    In the experienced prudence of Aurelian;
+    And scarcely could the desert's hardy sons
+    Cope with the practiced legions of the empire.
+    The battle gained, Palmyra taken, sacked--
+    Its queen a captive, hurled from off a throne,
+    Stripped of her wide possessions, forced to sue
+    In humblest attitude for even life--
+    The haughty victor led his weary legions
+    Back to Italia's shores, and in his train
+    His fallen rival, loaded with chains of gold,
+    Forged from the bullion of her treasury.
+
+     'T was holyday in Rome. The morning sun,
+    Emerging from the palace-crested hills
+    Of the Campagna, poured a flood of light
+    Upon the slumbering city, summoning
+    Its teeming thousands to the festival.
+    A playful breeze, rich-laden with perfume
+    From groves of orange, gently stirred the leaves,
+    And curled the ripples on the Tiber's breast,
+    Bearing to seaward o'er the flowery plain
+    The rising peans' joyful melodies.
+    Flung to the wind, high from the swelling dome
+    That crowned the Capitol, the imperial banner,
+    Broidered with gold and glittering with gems,
+    Unfurled its azure field; and, as it caught
+    The sunbeams and flashed down upon the throng
+    That filled the forum, there arose a shout
+    Deep as the murmur of the cataract.
+    In that spontaneous outburst of applause
+    _Rome spoke_; and as the echo smote the hills
+    It woke the slumbering memory of a time
+    When Rome was _free_.
+
+          A trumpet from the walls
+    Proclaimed the day's festivities begun.
+    Preceded by musicians and sweet singers,
+    A long procession passed the city-gate,
+    And, traversing the winding maze of streets,
+    Climbed to the Capitol. Choice victims, dressed
+    With pictured ornaments and wreaths of flowers,
+    An offering to the tutelary gods,
+    Led the advance. Then followed spoils immense,
+    Baskets of jewels, vases of wrought gold,
+    Paintings and statuary, cloths and wares,
+    Of costliest manufacture, close succeeded
+    By the rich symbols of Palmyra's glory,
+    Torn from her temples and her palaces,
+    To grace a triumph in the streets of Rome.
+    With toilsome step next walked the captive queen;
+    And then the victor, in his car of state,
+    With milk-white horses of Thessalian breed,
+    And in his retinue a splendid train
+    Of Rome's nobility. In one long line
+    The army last appeared in bright array,
+    With banners high displayed, filling the air
+    With songs of victory. The pageant proud
+    Quickened remembrance of departed days,
+    And warmed the bosoms of the multitude
+    With deep devotion to the commonwealth.
+
+     High in his gilded chariot, decked in robes
+    Of broidered purple, and with laurel crowned,
+    Rode the triumphant conqueror, in his hand
+    The emblems of his power. The capital
+    Of his wide empire was inflamed with zeal
+    To do him honor and exalt his praise.
+    The world was at his feet; his sovereign will
+    None dared to question, and his haughty word
+    Was law to nations. Yet his heart was troubled.
+    In the dim distance he discerned the flight
+    Of Freedom, on swift pinions heralding
+    Enfranchisement to the oppressed of earth.
+    He knew the feeble tenure of dominion
+    Based on allegiance with reluctance paid;
+    And read the future overthrow of Rome
+    In the unyielding spirit of his victim.
+    Uncovered in the sun, weary and faint,
+    Bowed to the earth with chains of ravished gold,
+    With feet unsandaled, walked Zenobia,
+    Slave to the craven tyrant's cruelty.
+    Neither her peerless beauty, nor her sex,
+    Nor yet her grievous sufferings could melt
+    The despot's stony heart. She, who surpassed
+    Her conqueror in all the qualities
+    Of head or heart which crown humanity
+    With nobleness and high preeminence--
+    She, whose _misfortunes_ in a glorious cause,
+    And not her _errors_, had achieved her ruin--
+    Burdened with ignominy and disgrace
+    For her resplendent _virtues_, not her _crimes_--
+    She who had graced a palace, and dispensed
+    Pardon to penitence, reward to worth,
+    And tempered justice with benevolence--
+    Wickedly torn from her exalted station,
+    Now walked a captive in the streets of Rome,
+    E'en at the feet of the oppressors steeds.
+    Yet was her spirit all untamed. Disdain
+    Still sat upon her countenance, and breathed
+    Unmeasured scorn upon her persecutors.
+    The blush of innocence upon her cheek,
+    The burning pride that flashed within her eye,
+    The majesty enthroned upon her brow,
+    Told, in a language which the tyrant _felt_,
+    That her unconquered spirit soared sublime
+    In a pure orbit whither _his_ sordid soul
+    Could ne'er attain. Had he a captive led
+    Some odious wretch, whose sanguinary crimes,
+    Long perpetrated under sanction of a strength
+    No arm could reach, had spread a pall of mourning
+    Over a people's desolated homes,
+    He then had _right_ to triumph o'er his victim.
+    But 't was not thus. Insatiable ambition
+    Had led him to unsheath his victor sword
+    Against a monarch whose distinctive sway
+    Ravished from Rome no tittle of her _right_;
+    And, to augment the aggregate of wrong,
+    _That monarch was a woman_, whose renown,
+    Compared with his, was gold compared with brass.
+    As o'er the stony street the captive paced
+    Her weary way before the victor's steeds,
+    And marked the multitudes insatiate gaze,
+    The look of calm defiance on her face
+    Told that she bowed not to her degradation.
+    Her thoughts were not at Rome. Unheeded all,
+    The billows of the mad excitement dashed
+    About her, and broke harmless at her feet.
+    Dim reminiscences of former days
+    Burst like a deluge on her errant mind;
+    Leading her backward to the buried past,
+    When in the artless buoyancy of youth
+    She sat beneath Palmyra's fragrant shades
+    And gleaned the pages of historic story,
+    Red with Rome's bloody catalogue of wrong.
+    Little she dreamed Palmyra's palaces
+    Should e'er be scenes of Roman violence;
+    Little she dreamed that _hers_ should be the lot
+    (A captive princess led in chains) to crown
+    The splendor of a Roman holyday.
+    Alas! the blow she thought not of had fallen.
+    A bloody struggle, like a dreadful dream,
+    Had briefly raged, and all to her was lost,
+    Save the poor grace of a degraded life.
+    Her sun of glory was gone down in blood--
+    The glittering fabric of her power despoiled
+    To swell the triumph of her conqueror.
+    But in the wreck of her magnificence,
+    With eye prophetic, she foresaw the ruin
+    Of the proud capital of all the world.
+    She saw the quickening symptoms of rebellion
+    Among the nations, and she caught their cry
+    For _freedom_ and for _vengeance_!
+
+        *    *    *    *    *
+
+          Hark! the Goth
+    Is thundering at the gate, His reckless sword
+    Leaps from the scabbard, eager to vindicate
+    The cause of the oppressed. A thousand years
+    The sun has witnessed in his daily course
+    The tyranny of Rome, now crushed _forever_.
+    The mighty mass of her usurped dominion,
+    By its own magnitude at last dissevered,
+    Is crumbling into fragments; and the shades
+    Of long-forgotten generations shriek
+    With fiendish glee over the yawning gulf
+    Of her perdition.
+
+
+
+
+TEMPER LIFE'S EXTREMES.
+
+BY GEORGE S. BURLEIGH.
+
+
+    'Tis wise, in summer-warmth, to look before,
+      To the keen-nipping winter; it is good,
+    In lifeful hours, to lay aside some store
+      Of thought, to leaven the spirit's duller mood;
+    To mould the sodded dyke, in sunny hour,
+      Against the coming of the wasteful flood;
+    Still tempering Life's extremes, that Wo no more
+      May start abrupt in Joy's sweet neighborhood.
+    If Day burst sudden from the bars of Night,
+      Or with one plunge leaped down the sheer abyss,
+    Painful alike were darkness and the light,
+      Bearing fixed war through shifting victories;
+    But sweet their bond, where peaceful twilight lingers,
+    Weaving the rosy with the sable fingers.
+
+
+
+
+THE CRUISE OF THE RAKER.
+
+A TALE OF THE WAR OF 1812-15.
+
+BY HENRY A. CLARK.
+
+(_Continued from page 136._)
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+_The Revenge._
+
+
+The report of the pistol fired by Julia had also been heard upon the
+pirate brig. To Florette it gave assurance of the safety of the fair
+fugitive. The pirate sprang to his feet, forgetful of his wound, but
+fell back helpless upon the companion-way, and soon relapsed into his
+former thoughtful state, supposing the sound had come from the deck of
+the Raker, though it had seemed much too near and distinct to appear
+possible that such was the case.
+
+The escape of Julia was not discovered until the following morning.
+The wrath of the pirate was fearfully vindictive. Even Florette became
+alarmed when he fiercely accused her of some share in the
+disappearance of the captive girl. This she tremblingly denied,
+suggesting the opinion that Julia must have jumped overboard, in her
+despair, induced by the threats of the pirate. The loss of the boat
+was also noticed, but not connected with the escape of Julia, it being
+supposed that it had been carelessly fastened. As a very natural
+consequence of his anger, the pirate sought some person on whom he
+could vent its fury.
+
+"Call aft the other woman," shouted he, "unless she, too, has jumped
+overboard."
+
+A grim smile was interchanged between the men who heard this order.
+John's true sex had not been long kept concealed after he had reached
+the pirate brig, and he had nearly fallen a victim to the rage the
+unpleasant discovery excited in the men, but his ludicrous and abject
+expressions of terror, though they awoke no emotions of pity, yet
+excited the merriment of his captors, and turned their anger into
+laughter. A man's garments were thrown to him, in which he speedily
+equipped himself, being indeed in no slight degree relieved by the
+change. Since that time he had kept himself as much aloof as possible
+from the crew, anxiously and fearfully expectant of some sudden
+catastrophe, either that his brains would be blown out without
+affording him an opportunity to expostulate, or that he would be
+called upon to walk the plank.
+
+He was roused by a heavy hand laid upon his shoulder.
+
+"O dear, don't," cried John.
+
+"The captain has sent word for'ard arter you, and faith ye had betther
+be in a hurry, for he's a savage when he's mad."
+
+"O! now I've got to do it."
+
+"Do what?"
+
+"Why walk the plank to be sure."
+
+"Arrah, jewel! don't be onaisy now."
+
+"Wont I's, don't you think?"
+
+"Not a bit of it, darling. I think he will be afther running you up to
+the yard-arm."
+
+"But I can't run up it."
+
+"Ha! ha! but come along, honey."
+
+Half dragging John after him, the sailor led him to the quarter-deck.
+
+"Here's the lady, captain, an' faith she's a swate one."
+
+The truth of the case had already been explained to the pirate.
+
+"You cowardly fool," said he, "did you expect to escape by such a
+subterfuge? Pat, run him up to the yard-arm."
+
+"Yes, captain, and that will be a relaif to him, for he was mighty
+afraid he'd have to walk the plank."
+
+"He was? well then he shall."
+
+The vindictiveness of the pirate commander, who had only changed the
+mode of John's death because he thought that by so doing he should
+render it more fearful and bitter to the victim, was the means of
+saving the poor cockney's life. So do revenge and malice often
+overreach themselves.
+
+A long plank was laid out over the side of the brig and John commanded
+to walk out on it. He showed a strong disinclination to obeying, but a
+huge pistol placed against his forehead quickly influenced his
+decision, and with a cry of anguish he stepped out upon it. As the
+board tipped he turned to spring back to the brig, but slipping up,
+fell upon the board, which he pulled after him into the water.
+
+"Fool," cried the captain to one of his men, "what did you let the
+board loose for, he will float now till the chase picks him up--fire
+into him."
+
+A dozen balls were fired at John, and it seems he was hit, for he let
+go the board and sunk.
+
+"There, captain, he's done for."
+
+The brig by this time had reached a considerable distance from the
+place where John had been committed to the deep, and when he rose to
+the surface, as he soon did, he was out of danger from their shot.
+
+"O dear!" cried he, "I shan't ever get ashore; I never could swim
+much."
+
+The waves threw him against the plank.
+
+"O! a shark! a shark!" shouted John, "now don't;" and he grasped hold
+of the plank in a frenzy of fear. He soon discovered the friendly aid
+it would afford him, and held on to it with the tenacity of despair.
+
+In less than half an hour the Raker came up. John was noticed from its
+deck, and a brawny tar seizing a rope and taking two or three turns of
+it round his left arm sprang overboard to rescue the half unconscious
+cockney.
+
+As the sailor seized him, John, supposing it to be a shark, uttered a
+loud cry and lost all sensation. In this condition he was hauled up to
+the deck of the privateer, where, upon recovering his senses, he found
+to his great surprise and joy, that instead of being in the belly of
+some voracious fish, like Jonah of old, he was in safety, and
+surrounded by the crew of his former vessel, the Betty Allen,
+including his master.
+
+The poor fellow was severely wounded by a pistol shot, in the arm, but
+regardless of this he was wild in his demonstrations of joy,
+especially when told that his young mistress had also escaped.
+
+Captain Greene found that he had gained little, if any, upon the
+pirate during the night, and became convinced that he must again
+commence firing upon her, trusting to some lucky ball to carry away a
+spar, or failing, to allow the villains to escape the punishment they
+so richly deserved, not only for their inhuman treatment of the crew
+of the Betsy Allen, but doubtless for numerous other crimes committed
+upon the seas, as savage in their conception, and more successful in
+their execution.
+
+The long gun was again uncovered, and a shot dispatched from its huge
+portals after the pirate brig. The first ball fired fell short of the
+brig, striking the water directly in its wake, and ricochetting again
+threw up the water beyond it.
+
+A succeeding ball, however, did some execution, crashing through her
+top-gallant forecastle, but without in any degree lessening her speed.
+As every fire from the Raker lessened her speed, Capt. Greene became
+exceedingly anxious that no balls should be thrown away, and commanded
+Lieut. Morris to point the gun, having more confidence in his skill
+than in that of the gunner. The young officer aimed the gun carefully,
+and as it was fired three cheers arose from his crew, as they
+perceived the pirate's mizzen-mast fall away.
+
+"She is ours," cried the lieutenant.
+
+"Stand by, men, to take in sail," shouted the captain. "We will draw
+near enough," continued he to Morris, "to fire into her at our
+leisure, a pirate is not entitled to a more honorable warfare, and he
+seems also to greatly outnumber us in men."
+
+As the privateer approached the pirate they could not but admire the
+singular beauty of her build. She rose and fell upon the waters as
+gracefully as a free and wild ocean bird. The long red lines of her
+port-holes swept with a gentle curve from stem to stern, and her stem
+was so sharp that the bowsprit seemed rather to terminate than to join
+it. Twelve carronades occupied a double row of port-holes, and the
+deck seemed crowded with men, all armed with cutlases and pistols.
+
+"A formidable looking set," said Captain Greene, as he laid aside his
+glass, "keep the gun lively."
+
+An ineffectual fire opened upon the privateer from the pirate, but
+though they had a swivel of pretty heavy calibre, turning on its axis
+amidship in such a manner as to menace at will each point of the
+horizon, it was evident that its force was far less than the long gun
+of the privateer.
+
+A well aimed shot brought down the pirate's fore topsail-yard, which
+hung in the slings, and succeeding shots did much injury to her masts
+and rigging, and at length the main-topmast fell over the side.
+
+The scene on board the pirate, during this unequal warfare, was one
+approaching perplexity and disorder. Their commander stood by the
+helm, gazing at the privateer, his brow clouded with angry thought,
+and giving little heed to the movements of his crew. He was aroused
+from his abstraction by the voice of one of his officers.
+
+"Captain, this is bad business, what is to be done?"
+
+The captain gazed at him in silence.
+
+"The crew are alarmed, and demand of you some relief from this
+harassing state. Our guns will not reach the chase, and we cannot
+leave her in this crippled state."
+
+At this moment a heavy ball from the privateer whizzed by them and
+buried itself in the main-mast of the brig.
+
+The captain seemed fully aroused. His eyes flashed with their wonted
+fire. He turned toward his crew, and saw at a glance the state of
+depression which had fallen upon them all. He even overheard some
+muttered words of complaint.
+
+"Pat," says one, "this seems to be playing a rough game, where nothing
+is to be won on our side."
+
+"Faith, an' ye may say that, but we stand a chance to gain one thing."
+
+"What may that be, Pat?"
+
+"O, a two-inch rope, and a run up to the fore yard-arm."
+
+"The devil! That's not a pleasant thought, Pat."
+
+"No, but they say it's an aisy death."
+
+"Silence, men," was heard in the deep tones of the captain's voice.
+
+In a moment all was still, and every eye turned toward the
+companion-way, on which the captain stood, resting one hand upon the
+main-boom, as he was exceedingly weak from the wound inflicted by the
+ball of Captain Horton.
+
+"My brave fellows," said their leader, "do not be alarmed, we shall
+not be hanged this time. Is our situation any worse than it has been
+in times heretofore? Trust in me. Have I ever deceived you--have I
+ever failed yet? You know I have not. Where we cannot conquer by fair
+battle, we must use stratagem. Be watchful and ready, and we will yet
+not only escape yonder vessel, but stand upon her deck as masters."
+
+The confidence with which he spoke inspired his followers with like
+feeling, and with countenances relighted by hope, they returned to
+their several stations. Their reliance upon their commander was
+unbounded. He had so often triumphed when even greater difficulties
+opposed, that they already felt sure of ultimate delivery, now that he
+had been restored to his former energy--they had mistaken the lethargy
+into which pain and weakness had thrown him for the torpor of despair.
+Again the joke and laugh went round, and already they began to compute
+their respective shares of booty in the vessel so soon to be theirs,
+they knew not how.
+
+"Haul down the ensign, in token that we surrender," cried the captain.
+
+A murmur of indignation and surprise arose from the crew.
+
+"What, men, do you doubt me? 'Tis but a feint. Haul down the flag and
+take in sail."
+
+The men obeyed with alacrity, for they already clearly comprehended
+the plan of their leader. It was his intention to entice the privateer
+alongside, and, well aware of his own superiority in numbers, to make
+a sudden onset upon her deck, and thus, contrary to all laws of
+honorable warfare, seize by foul means what could not be obtained in
+any other way.
+
+These pacific indications were viewed with some surprise on board the
+privateer.
+
+"By Heaven!" cried Lieut. Morris, "she's tired of this game soon."
+
+"Well, she had no other way to do; as it was we should have sunk her
+without receiving a shot."
+
+"It was a losing game for her, true enough."
+
+"Lay the brig alongside of her," shouted Captain Greene to his men.
+
+As his men with a cheer began to unfurl all sail, Captain Horton
+approached the commander of the privateer. He had up to this period
+ventured no interference, both from matter of delicacy, and because he
+saw nothing to disapprove of in the course pursued by Captain Greene.
+
+"My dear sir," said he, as he laid his hand upon the arm of the
+captain of the privateer, "allow me to say a word."
+
+"Certainly, sir," replied the courteous commander. "I ought sooner
+than this to have asked your advice."
+
+"I would not place too great confidence in the pirate's signal of
+surrender."
+
+"Do you apprehend foul play?"
+
+"Recollect the savage brutality which the fiend has already evinced,
+and judge for yourself whether he is worthy of being trusted at all."
+
+"You are right, sir. Lieut. Morris," continued he, turning to his
+young officer.
+
+"Ay, ay, sir."
+
+"Load the long gun with grape and canister, and wheel it abaft--load
+the larboard guns the same way. Now, my men, don't run too near her.
+She must send a boat aboard."
+
+The privateer approached within half a cable's length of the pirate.
+
+"Ship ahoy!" cried Captain Greene.
+
+No answer came from the pirate, but her head was rounded to, so as to
+bear directly down on the Raker.
+
+"Answer me, or I'll fire into you."
+
+"Fire and be d--d," came from the deck of the pirate, and at the same
+time a broadside was poured into the Raker, which killed two or three
+men at the guns, and severely wounded Captain Greene.
+
+"Lieut. Morris," cried he, "take the command of the vessel," and
+falling on the deck he was immediately carried below.
+
+The young officer was fully equal to the emergency of the occasion. At
+a glance he perceived that the pirate in the confusion which ensued
+from his unexpected broadside, had fallen foul of the privateer's
+rigging, and the crowd of his crew in his bow and fore-rigging, all
+with cutlases drawn, and ready to spring aboard the privateer, plainly
+announced the intention to board.
+
+"All hands to repel boarders," shouted Morris, and drawing his cutlas
+he sprang forward, followed by his men.
+
+A well contested struggle ensued, the American seamen, indignant at
+the foul deceit which had been practiced upon them, fought like
+tigers, and for a time kept the pirates at bay--they had indeed,
+notwithstanding their superior numbers, nearly driven them from the
+deck, when the form of their commander appeared among them. In
+consequence of his wound he had, contrary to his custom, entrusted the
+command of the boarders to his first lieutenant, and had remained upon
+his own vessel watching the fight. He sprung among his crew, with a
+sword drawn, and a tight sash bound around his waist, from which the
+dark blood was slowly oozing, his wound having burst away from its
+ligaments.
+
+"Cowards!" he shouted, "do ye yield--ye are two to their one."
+
+Leaping to their front, he struck down a sailor and plunged into the
+thickest of the fight. Reanimated by the presence of their leader, who
+had so often led them to victory, a new spirit seemed to light up the
+fainting courage of the pirates, and with a fierce yell they rushed
+forward. The American crew were compelled to fall back before the
+fierce assault. At the head of his men Lieut. Morris several times
+crossed swords with the pirate captain, but the swaying of the fight
+separated them. Perceiving that his men were slowly yielding, though
+in good order, Lieutenant Morris, cool and collected, cheered their
+courage, and at this moment thought of the long gun which had been
+drawn up, loaded to the muzzle with grape and canister, against the
+companion-way, and a man with a lighted match stationed by it.
+
+"Fall back to the quarter-deck," cried the young officer.
+
+They retreated in close array, and uncovered the mouth of the huge
+gun. At the sight of this a cry of dismay broke from the foremost of
+the pirates, who broke the front rank, and many of them escaped for
+the time by leaping into the sea.
+
+"Fire," cried Lieut. Morris. In a moment he was obeyed. Wild cries of
+agony arose amid the gathering smoke, which, as it rolled away,
+revealed a horrible sight. Not a living pirate stood upon the deck of
+the privateer. A dense mass of bodies, writhing in pain, lay upon the
+fore-deck, and many of the pirates who had jumped into the sea were
+seen scrambling up the sides of their own vessel; the pirate chief
+lay dead at the head of his followers, foremost in death, as he had
+been in life. It was a terrible and revolting scene--the scuppers
+literally ran with blood, the bulwarks were bespattered with brains
+and pieces of scalps; several limbs were strewn about, and the entire
+deck covered with the dead or dying.
+
+While the crew of the Raker stood for a time awe-struck at the
+desolation they had themselves made, the pirates, ferocious to the
+last, had regained their own ship and cut her adrift, and as they paid
+off fired a broadside into the Raker, which injured several of her
+men. Roused by this, the privateersmen rushed to their guns. The
+larboard guns, in obedience to the order of Captain Greene, were
+already loaded with grape; while with the starboard Morris commanded
+his men to keep up a steady fire at the masts and rigging.
+
+A fortunate shot from the Raker struck the helms-man on board the
+pirate, shattering at the same time the tiller. In a moment the brig
+was up in the wind, and taken aback, throwing the pirates into
+confusion.
+
+"Ready about," cried Morris, leaping from the carronade-slide on which
+he had raised himself, and taking in at a glance the exposed position
+of the enemy--"head her round, and stand ready to give the rascals a
+taste from our larboard quarter."
+
+The Raker ranged across the bows of the pirate, and before he could
+regain his headway, raked him with a tremendous broadside of the same
+deadly missiles which had already destroyed so many of their comrades.
+The wild cries of anguish which arose from the clouds of smoke told
+with what destructive effect the death-bolts had been hurled.
+
+The pirate now paid off and returned an ineffectual broadside, but
+rendered ungovernable by the loss of her head-sails and tiller, he
+immediately broached-to again, and the privateer poured in another
+terrible discharge of grape and canister, raking him fore and aft,
+then heaving-to and taking up a position on his bow, she fired
+broadside after broadside into him in rapid and deadly succession. The
+main-mast now fell over the side, and the pirate at the same time fell
+off before the wind, and drew out of the deep mantle of smoke which
+had for some time covered both vessels. As the smoke slowly curled up
+from the deep it was seen that not a living man was visible upon the
+deck of the pirate. Several of her guns were dismounted, and her masts
+so cut away that she lay upon the waters a helpless and disabled
+wreck. Yet the red ensign of death, though rent into ribbons, still
+fluttered from the peak, and the young lieutenant hesitated to board,
+having learned caution from the treachery of the pirate.
+
+While the crew of the Raker were thus occupied in watching their
+enemy, a light female form was seen to issue from the hatchway and
+gaze around the deck of the pirate. She passed from body to body, but
+seemed not to find what she sought. At length she turned her eyes,
+streaming with tears, toward the Raker, and pointing to the flag above
+her, as if to indicate that there was no one to lower it, she knelt
+upon the deck, bowing her head upon her hands. Her long hair fell
+over her forehead and trailed upon the blood-stained deck, as she
+knelt in mute despair among the dying and the dead. It was a mournful
+and singular picture of wo, and there were eyes long unused to tears
+that filled to overflowing as they gazed upon her.
+
+A boat was immediately lowered, and Lieutenant Morris with a dozen of
+his crew were soon in possession of the pirate's deck. Upon examining
+the brig it was found that she was fast filling with water, and after
+conveying to the Raker all that they could lay hands on of value,
+including a large amount of precious metal, she was left to her fate.
+Not one of her crew was found living, so destructive had been the
+continual discharge of grape from the Raker. Florette accompanied them
+on board, and wept bitterly as she saw the dead body of the pirate
+commander lying in front of his slaughtered followers, but suffered
+herself to be led below by Julia, who received her with kindness and
+gratitude.
+
+All sail was now set upon the privateer, and she bore away from the
+sinking craft of the pirate upon her former course. The latter vessel,
+traversed in every direction by the Raker's terrible fire, was rapidly
+settling into the ocean. Suddenly, with a sound like the gushing of an
+immense water-spout, a huge chasm opened in the waves--the doomed brig
+seemed struggling as if with conscious life, and then lashing the
+waters with her shattered spars and broken masts, went down forever
+beneath the deep waters, over whose bosom she had so long rode as a
+scourge and a terror, with blood and desolation following in her wake.
+
+Among the effects of the pirate captain which had been conveyed on
+board the Raker, a manuscript was found, which seemed to be an
+autobiography of his life. For what purpose he had written it can
+never be known--most probably from an impulsive desire to give vent on
+paper to thoughts and feelings which he could not breathe to any
+living person, and which he doubtless supposed would never be perused
+by human eye--they show that, savage, and lawless, and blood-thirsty
+as he had become, strong and terrible motives had driven him into his
+unnatural pursuit, and perchance a tear of pity may fall for him, as
+the gentle reader peruses the private records of the scourge of the
+ocean.
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+_The Pirate's Story._
+
+I am the youngest son of a gentleman of the northern part of England.
+My father's family is as good as any in the county, for without laying
+claim to any title of nobility, our blood is as pure and our lineage
+as ancient as the most boasted in England. I had but one brother, who
+succeeded at our father's death to the broad lands and rich heritage
+of our name. The accursed law of primogeniture, to which I owe all the
+evil that has befallen me, of course debarred me from all share in the
+family estate. I had refused to enter the army, the church or the
+navy, though my inclinations were in favor of the latter profession;
+yet a stronger claim than ambition or a roving life kept me on the
+paternal estate. It was not that I envied my brother the possession of
+the wide bounds over which he ruled, or that I found less happiness in
+witnessing his, for I loved my brother, as God is my witness, here, in
+my lonely cabin, with this great sea around me, and this broad sky
+above me; here, though no eye may ever see these lines, I write, do I
+repeat it, I loved my brother dearly and proudly. It was love that
+kept me idle at home while other young men of England, belonging to
+the same position in society as myself, and in the same unfortunate
+category of younger sons, were carving out for themselves fame and
+wealth in the service of their country.
+
+Helen Burnett was the loveliest girl I have ever seen, and I loved her
+with all the passionate devotedness of a young and ardent heart; she
+was to me the light of life, for all was dark when I was not with her.
+She was the only daughter of our village curate, and resided near our
+family mansion. We had sported together beneath the venerable trees of
+the park from the earliest days of childhood. Until I left home for
+college she had seemed to me as a sister, and I had loved her as such
+until, on returning home from a long absence at college, I found a
+blushing and beautiful young woman where I had expected, forgetting
+the rapid work of time, to meet with the same playful and lovely child
+I had kissed at parting. She was, indeed, beautiful; tall, graceful,
+and even commanding in figure, while the mildness of an angel reposed
+in the glance of her deep-blue eyes, and the sweet smile that so often
+visited her lips, while her pleasantly modulated voice was music
+itself.
+
+          "A lyre of widest range,
+    Touched by all passion--did fall down and glance
+    From tone to tone, and glided through all change of liveliest
+       utterance."
+
+Her hair was of the darkest shade of brown, resting in soft wave-like
+smoothness above her high, pale forehead. Alas! that she was _so_
+lovely! had she been less so, either I might not have loved her, or I
+might have been permitted by fortune to have been happy with her.
+
+After leaving college, my time was all devoted to Helen. She loved me
+no less than I loved her; and I looked forward to a quiet and happy
+life, picturing the future with colorings of the brightest hope and
+joyfulness.
+
+It was at this time that my brother returned from a long tour of the
+Continent. He was one of the handsomest men of the day, and had been
+distinguished by the appellation which had accompanied him from court
+to court, of "the handsome Englishman." He was of a medium stature,
+and faultlessly proportioned; his expansive and intellectual forehead
+seemed the seat of lofty thought, and his dark flashing eye, intensely
+expressive, seemed to penetrate to the heart of all who met its
+glance. I see him now--not in his glorious beauty, but pale--pale,
+touched by the cold fingers of death.
+
+I had too much of the pride of my race to live as a dependent on my
+brother's bounty, yet I could not bear the thought of leaving Helen. I
+was in no situation to marry, and in an undecided state of mind I
+suffered the days to glide away.
+
+My brother had just come back from a day's angling in the trout-stream
+that flowed through his lands. He met me at the park-gate.
+
+"Well, John," said I, "what luck to-day?"
+
+"O, William," said he, without heeding my question, "I have seen the
+most charming girl--the loveliest one that breathes. She outvies all I
+have seen in my travels; do you know her. She is the curate's
+daughter."
+
+I felt a sickness at heart, like the bitterness of death--was it a
+presentiment, a warning of evil to come.
+
+"Say, William?"
+
+"Yes--yes, she is lovely."
+
+"She is an angel."
+
+Sir John passed into the park, and I proceeded, with a strange
+melancholy I could not dispel, to meet Helen. She was at her father's
+door, and greeted me with her accustomed kindness of voice and manner.
+
+"Why are you so sad this lovely evening William?"
+
+"Sad!--am I sad?"
+
+"You look so."
+
+"Well, I will be so no longer, then;" and I endeavored to shake off my
+depression, but not succeeding, I bade her farewell at an earlier hour
+than was my custom.
+
+From that day my brother's angling excursions became more
+frequent--but he seldom returned with a full basket. He often spoke to
+me of Helen, but I always replied carelessly, and changed the topic of
+conversation to something else, yet when alone, I was in continual
+torment from my thoughts. I endeavored to console myself with the
+reflection that Helen's love was plighted to me, and that she would
+not change, yet my thoughts were continually recurring to my brother's
+great advantages over me in every respect, not only in fortune but in
+personal appearance; and I had already, in my suspicions, placed him
+in the light of a rival for the hand of Helen. I knew his high-minded
+and honorable disposition too well to fancy for a moment that he would
+attempt her ruin; and I also knew that there was nothing in the
+inferior station of Helen's family that would prevent him from seeking
+her hand in marriage, if she had compelled his love.
+
+All that followed might perhaps have been prevented had I at first
+told my brother frankly of my love for Helen; but a foolish desire to
+prove her love for me, and a certain feeling of self-respect kept me
+silent.
+
+It was not a long time before I either saw, or fancied I saw, a change
+in the manner of Helen toward me--the thought was torture. I was for
+days undecided how to act, but at length determined to learn the true
+state of things. I knew my brother was often at the parsonage, and I
+trembled for the result.
+
+"Helen," I asked her, "is not my brother a frequent visitor here?"
+
+It was twilight, but I thought I observed a heightened color in her
+cheek.
+
+"Yes, he has been here several times since his return."
+
+"Dear Helen, answer me frankly, has he ever spoken to you of love?"
+
+She hesitated, but at length replied,
+
+"He has."
+
+"And did you not tell him your vows were plighted to another?"
+
+"My father entered the room before I made any reply at all."
+
+"Helen, do you love me now the same as ever you have done?"
+
+"You have my plighted word, William." Yet there was something
+bordering on coldness even in the sweet accents with which she spoke;
+the nice instinct of love detects each gradation of feeling with an
+unerring certainty. I was not satisfied, and when I left her, I was
+more unhappy than ever. I longed to speak to my brother on the
+subject, yet some indescribable feeling prevented me; and I allowed
+the days to glide away, growing more and more troubled in mind as they
+passed by.
+
+I was now convinced that Helen's affection for me was not what it had
+been; and after a short interview with her, in which she had again
+repeated her love for me, but in such chilling tones that I felt it
+was not from the heart she spoke, I sought the chamber of my brother
+in a state almost bordering on madness. All of our race have been of
+ungovernable passions, but none more so than myself. I paused at his
+door to regain in some degree my self-command, then lifting the latch,
+I entered.
+
+"Ah, brother!" said Sir John, in a cheerful tone.
+
+"Yes, your younger brother," replied I, bitterly.
+
+Sir John started with wonder.
+
+"Why, William, what mean you?"
+
+I paid no heed to the interruption, but continued growing, if
+possible, still more enraged as I proceeded.
+
+"Are not all the broad lands of our family estate yours--its parks,
+its meadows, its streams; this venerable mansion, where the _elder
+son_ has rioted for so many generations, leaving the younger to make
+his way in the world as best he may."
+
+"Brother, are you mad? My purse is yours--I have nothing that is not
+yours."
+
+"You have every thing, and not content with that, you have sought to
+win away the love of my affianced bride."
+
+"Who mean you, William?"
+
+"Helen Burnett."
+
+My brother turned pale, and gazing upon me for a moment with
+astonishment, he heaved a deep sigh, and covered his face with his
+hands.
+
+I folded my arms, and stood looking upon him scornfully, for my
+passion had made me consider him in the light of one who had knowingly
+stolen away my bride.
+
+Sir John at length uncovered his face and spoke.
+
+"I would to God, William, you had told me this sooner."
+
+"Is it then too late?" I inquired, bitterly.
+
+"Too late--too late for my happiness, but not too late for justice and
+honor. She is yours, William, I resign all pretensions to her hand,
+and will cease to visit the parsonage."
+
+I was touched by the generous spirit of my brother, and by the
+mournful shadow which clouded his noble brow. I have ever acted from
+impulse, and seizing him by the hand, I said,
+
+"Not so, John--not so! She is, as I have told you, my affianced bride;
+her solemn and oft-repeated vows are mine, and I have thought that her
+love was forever mine; but this very night I plainly perceived that a
+change has been wrought in her feelings. She treated me with coldness
+instead of warmth, and maddened by my interview with her, I rushed
+into your presence, and have blamed you unjustly."
+
+"My dear brother--"
+
+"No, no, John, I was wrong to accuse you. I should have better known
+your nobleness. Henceforth let us stand on equal ground; I do not want
+an unwilling bride, and if you can win her love from me, take her,
+though it drive me mad."
+
+A gleam of pleasure passed over Sir John's countenance as he replied,
+
+"Be it so, my brother, it is but honorable; yet will I at once resign
+all hope, and leave the country if you but will it so."
+
+"Sir John, have you reason to think that Helen loves you?"
+
+"She has never said so, but I did not think she looked coldly upon
+me."
+
+"She is 'false, false as hell!'"
+
+"My dear William, however this suite terminate, any thing in my power
+shall be done for you. If the estates were not entailed, I would at
+once give you a deed for half of them, and then I should have no
+advantage over you in wealth or position. Here is an order for a
+hundred thousand pounds."
+
+"Sir John I will accept nothing; if I lose Helen, I shall have no more
+to live for, and I warn you, if I become mad from disappointment, do
+not cross my path, or I know not the consequence."
+
+"You do not threaten me."
+
+I felt the turbulent passions of my nature rising within me, and
+fearing that I should lose all self-command, I rushed from the room,
+and entering the silent park, I wandered from grove to grove till the
+cool air of the night had calmed my raging spirit, when I sought my
+own chamber.
+
+I had never told the worthy curate of my love for his daughter, and
+Helen had never been accustomed to depend on him for advice or
+consolation. It was to her mother that she had always turned for both,
+and that mother had died but a year before the return of my brother.
+Mr. Burnett was a quiet student, passionately fond of his books, as
+innocent of the world as a child, only fretful and peevish when any
+thing occurred to disturb the quiet monotony of his existence, and
+apparently unconscious that his little Helen had grown from a child
+to a woman. His mind was wholly wrapped up in his studies, even at his
+meals it was abstracted, and he retired hastily to his closet. Helen
+had no inclination to disturb the serenity of his life, until it
+became absolutely necessary that he should be made acquainted with her
+engagement to me; and I had been too thoughtless of all but my own
+happiness to intrude upon his privacy, confident that his sanction to
+our marriage would not be refused whenever demanded.
+
+I had yet to learn the lesson, bitter and agonizing, that no woman is
+proof against the captivating temptations of ambition, and the glare
+of wealth. I know but little of the sex; they are called angels, and I
+had thought Helen was an angel--alas! I found my mistake. I read my
+doom in the averted coldness of her glance; I felt it in the unwilling
+pressure of her hand whenever we met, and I knew it when I gazed upon
+the countenance of my brother, on which was a quiet glow of happiness
+his expressive features could not conceal, even when he knew my
+searching glance was upon him. O! the agony of feeling which oppressed
+me in those bitter days; I felt all the savage passions of my nature
+rising within me; there were moments when I felt as if I could gladly
+see my brother and Helen stretched dead at my feet. Day by day these
+vindictive thoughts increased within me. It wanted but the finishing
+stroke to make me completely mad--it came. Though I had long dreaded
+to make the trial, on which all my happiness for this world rested, I
+at length determined to put it off no longer.
+
+The shadows of twilight were settling over the earth as I slowly and
+sadly approached the parsonage. My head was bowed upon my breast as I
+walked with a noiseless step upon the little path that led to the
+unpretending dwelling. I was not aware how near I had come, till a ray
+of light from the window fell across the path, and recalled me to
+myself. As I stopped, I heard the tones of my brother's voice in low
+and earnest conversation. I drew nearer, and beheld a sight which
+rooted me to the spot, even though I was not wholly unprepared for
+such a scene.
+
+My brother and Helen were seated in the little arbor before the
+parsonage, as she and myself had often before sat when I fancied our
+love was lasting as life. In the dim light I could see that my
+brother's arm was round her waist, and that her head rested upon his
+shoulder. I could hear their conversation.
+
+"And you do love me, then, Helen?"
+
+I heard no answer, but the long curls moved slightly upon my brother's
+shoulder, and as he bent his head and kissed her, I felt that he was
+answered--I was answered--that he _was_ loved.
+
+My brain burned as if on fire--and I sunk to the earth with a low
+groan. How long I remained unconscious I do not know; when I
+recovered, Helen and Sir John stood beside me. I sprung to my feet,
+and gazed upon them with the glare of a maniac. It was so--my brain
+was crazed.
+
+"William," said Helen.
+
+Her soft voice fell upon my ears with a singular cadence. With a
+fierce laugh I struck my brother to the earth, and rushed forth into
+the forest. All that night I must have wandered through its depths. I
+found myself at the break of day miles from our mansion, lying beneath
+an aged oak. I did not seem to know myself. I cannot now describe the
+feelings and thoughts which raged within me. The wild storm which is
+now lashing the ocean without my cabin is not more wild and
+fierce--the black sky above me is not more dark and gloomy. They
+seemed at length to settle into one stern, unchanging emotion, and
+that was hatred toward my brother, and a stern determination to
+revenge upon him the cruel wrong which had driven me mad.
+
+My path led along the course of a mountain torrent, whose sudden
+descent as it hurried toward the river, formed successive water-falls
+not unmusical in their cadence. A few purple beech and drooping
+willows with here and there a mountain ash, skirted the ravine that
+formed its bed; their leaves had fallen before the blasts of autumn,
+they seemed emblematic of myself; like me their glory had
+departed--they were shorn of their loveliness by the rough storm, left
+bare and verdureless in the chilling breath of autumn; the seasons in
+their round would restore to them their beauty and their bloom,
+clothing their branches again in all the freshness of youth; but what
+should give back to me the freshness and youth of the heart? what
+restore the desolation of of the soul?
+
+Weak and exhausted, I flung myself down in a rude grotto, which
+commanded a view of the foaming stream as it washed the rocks below;
+it was a scene fitted to my mood, for I turned in disgust from the
+beautiful landscape an opening in the forest revealed--the beauty of
+earth had forever passed away from me. That same opening, however,
+unfolded to the sight the gray towers of my family mansion, and at
+once I started to my feet and bent my course toward them.
+
+At length I reached my home--how hateful every thing about the
+venerable building seemed. I stole to my chamber, and falling upon my
+couch, slept from pure exhaustion.
+
+It was night when I awoke. I arose, but did not leave my room; seated
+by the window with the cold wind of November blowing upon my burning
+brow, I nursed my thoughts of vengeance. I forgot that he against whom
+I harbored such thoughts was my only brother; I forgot my self-offered
+trial of our powers with Helen; I forgot every thing--every thing but
+the fiery feeling of revenge. Yes, I was mad.
+
+Day after day I wandered around the old castle, shunning every one. My
+brother strove to converse with me, but glaring upon him like a maniac
+as I was, I rushed past him. I felt the poison of hatred working
+within me, and I knew the time was coming when my revengeful spirit
+would find its vent.
+
+I often wandered toward the parsonage, but never sought an interview
+with Helen. At times I caught a glimpse of her light form as it passed
+by a window or before the open door that led into the hall. One
+evening I saw my brother enter, and drawing near the window, I saw
+through the slightly-parted curtain, such evidence of their mutual
+affection, that, if possible, I became more than ever crazy in my
+anguish and despair. I waited for him to come out long hours, hours to
+me of bitterest sorrow, to him of most intense delight. It was an
+exceedingly cold night. A slight snow had fallen during the day, and
+the landscape around me glistening in the moonlight, seemed wrapped in
+a robe of the purest white. Yet as I gazed all seemed to turn into the
+deep hue of blood--wherever I gazed, every thing presented the same
+fearful coloring. It was but the shadowy reflection of a coming deed
+that should forever stain my soul with a deeper red, that the years of
+eternity could never efface.
+
+At length my brother opened the door of the parsonage and came forth.
+Leaning against the trunk of an old tree but a little distance from
+them, I saw and heard the parting acts of endearment. At that terrible
+moment the determination of my soul was made, and I heard the dark
+devil within me whisper one of you must die. I shuddered at the
+thought, but when scarcely out of sight of the parsonage, almost as
+soon as the door had closed upon the form of Helen, I confronted my
+brother. Sir John started back, surprised.
+
+"What, William, is it you?"
+
+I laughed scornfully.
+
+"My poor brother!"
+
+"Do you dare to pity me--ha! ha! ha! Sir John! one of us must die this
+night--here, upon this spot; here are two pistols, take one of them,
+and it will be soon seen which is the fated one."
+
+Sir John mechanically took the pistol; cocking my own, I retired a few
+paces, and turning, exclaimed,
+
+"Are you ready?"
+
+My words recalled him to himself; flinging his pistol far into the
+wood, he exclaimed,
+
+"I will not fire at my brother."
+
+"Coward!"
+
+"The name belongs not to our race; fire at me if you will, I will not
+at you."
+
+Enraged beyond expression, yet even in my madness ashamed to fire at
+an unarmed man, I hesitated.
+
+My brother spoke.
+
+"Come, William, let us go home."
+
+"Home!--ha! ha! ha! my home is the wood and the cave! Here, take my
+good-night."
+
+Thus speaking I flung my pistol full at his face with all my strength;
+it struck him lengthwise, and being cocked, went off in consequence of
+the concussion.
+
+Sir John fell upon the cold snow. I rushed up to him, and beheld the
+blood flowing in torrents from a ghastly wound; the ball had taken a
+downward direction, and penetrated the abdomen.
+
+"William," he said, faintly, "you have murdered me. God forgive you!"
+
+It seemed as if my reason came back to me at that terrible moment as
+suddenly as it had left me. At the report of my pistol, I had heard a
+loud scream in the parsonage, and almost at the same time with myself
+Helen rushed up to the side of my brother.
+
+"Oh!" she cried, in accents of agony, "who has done this?"
+
+"Who!" said I, bitterly, "do you ask? You have done it; but no, Helen,
+I do not mean it--let us carry him into the parsonage."
+
+With difficulty we lifted the body of my brother, and bearing him into
+the house, laid him upon a bed. Helen, who had up to this time been
+sustained by the necessity of exertion, fainted beside the body. I
+stood gazing upon them in stupid despair. The worthy pastor opened the
+door of the room; he had heard an unusual noise, and left his books to
+learn the cause.
+
+I stopped not to converse with him, I could not trust myself to speak,
+but stooping to the lifeless form of Helen, I imprinted a last kiss
+upon her pale lips, and burst from the chamber. I do not know the
+result of that fatal night. It may be that my brother and Helen were
+both restored to life and happiness. God grant that it was so. It may
+be that the spirits of both had already passed to another world when I
+broke from the room, leaving the pale and astonished pastor gazing
+upon the lifeless bodies of his only daughter and the young lord of
+the manor. Years have passed since then, and not a happy hour have
+their long ages borne to me; yet methinks if I could but know that my
+brother and Helen are living in happiness in the mansion of my
+fathers, much that is dark and despairing in the remnant of life would
+be taken from the future.
+
+That night I bade farewell to the haunts of boyhood, and the next day
+I was out upon the broad ocean. I had jumped aboard of a little vessel
+which was just weighing anchor, without asking its destination or
+caring where it bore me. I made brief reply to all interrogatories,
+merely showing a purse of gold, which was sufficient answer, inasmuch
+as it showed I was not to be an unprofitable part of the cargo.
+
+Seated upon the companion-way, that evening I watched the receding
+shores of my native isle, and as the sunlight went out on its white
+cliffs, leaving them in sombre shade, I felt that so had the light of
+my life gone out, leaving the darkness of despair forever. Reckless as
+I was of the future, and dark as was the past, I was not yet dead to
+all emotion, and I could not witness my native land fading from my
+view without experiencing those melancholy feelings which the
+endearing recollections of former years excite, embittered as they
+were with me by the thought that even if I ever should return to the
+home of my fathers, I should find no kindred to welcome me back. No
+wonder, then, that I felt a chilling sickness of the heart as I caught
+a last glimpse of the Wicklow Mountains gleaming in the warm colorings
+of the evening sun, as they mingled their hoary summits with the "dewy
+skies" of my native isle.
+
+The vessel on which I had chanced to take passage was bound for the
+West Indies. It was a small merchantman, and fell an easy prey to the
+first pirate that gave chase. We were boarded and all consigned to
+death. When the command was given to the pirates to shoot us all
+through the head, I stepped forward with a smile, and a heart
+partaking more of gladness than it had felt for long months, a pistol
+was at my temple, when the stern voice of the pirate captain commanded
+his man to stay his hand. He stepped forward and gazed into my face.
+
+"My fine fellow, are you not afraid to die?"
+
+"I have nothing to live for--blow away, and I will thank you."
+
+"By heaven, you are just the man for us! Now take your choice, I have
+no objection to shoot you, indeed it would be rather pleasant than
+otherwise, but one of my lieutenants was killed yesterday, and you can
+fill his place if you will. I give you five minutes to decide while we
+are dispatching these dogs." I gazed upon the cruel work--it did not
+shock me; I even smiled at their agony, and had determined to share
+their fate, when a momentary thought of the unknown, mysterious
+hereafter restrained my advancing step. Am I ready, thought I, to
+plunge into its mysteries. I shuddered at the thought. It was not the
+beautiful blue sky unrolled above me, nor the broad, playful sea
+around that wooed me to life. No, it was that fear of the "something
+after death."
+
+"Are you ready to answer?"
+
+"I am thine."
+
+"It is well, throw these carcasses into the sea, and set all sail for
+the Bermudas. Well, lieutenant," continued he, as the ship fell off
+before the wind, "give us your name, or it will be awkward work
+hailing you."
+
+"William--" I stopped, the pride of my race arose within me.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I will not give my name--call me William, I'll answer to that."
+
+"Very well--lieutenant William, my lads, your second lieutenant."
+
+The men seemed to like me from the first, and as I gazed upon them
+with a proud, fearless eye, a hearty cheer arose that endorsed my
+command.
+
+Since then my home has been the pirate's deck; my heart has grown
+harder and harder with the lapse of time. I love the sight of blood
+better than I love the flowing wine--the agonizing shriek of death
+better than the sweetest music--like an emissary of evil I gloat over
+the tortures of man. I have learned to hate the land of my birth, and
+all who first drew breath upon her detested soil. I have been foremost
+in every conflict, yet have I not met death--the only foe whom I
+cannot conquer by my fierce will and dark heart.
+
+I could not long remain a subordinate in command. I had become the
+idol of our lawless crew, and a single blow from my sword laid our
+captain low in death upon his own deck; and I filled his place,
+smiling with a fiendish pleasure, as I saw his body thrown into the
+waves, and the hungry sharks severing the limbs yet throbbing with
+life. I have no feeling for my kind--yet I was not meant for this.
+Under happier auspices, I might have been a leader in the ranks of God
+as I am now in those of Satan; my sword might have been drawn for my
+native land with the purest and loftiest feelings of patriotism,
+instead of being turned against her and her children. Even now, in the
+midst of my crimes and desolation, my heart throbs when I think of the
+great and good of earth, and I feel that, like them, I might have left
+a name of boast and pride to mankind; now, I shall perish, unknown and
+unwept; the annals of my house shall never record that one of its
+scions led a pirate crew to deeds of bloody cruelty and death. Long
+since I have buried my name in oblivion--I am dead to my kindred, dead
+to the world; the caves of ocean are yawning for the body of the
+pirate-chief, and there will he sleep with the howling ocean and the
+shrieking storm to sing his requiem and his dirge.
+
+                                                   [_To be continued._
+
+
+
+
+DREAMS.
+
+
+    Yes, there were pleasant voices yesternight,
+      Humming within mine ear a tale of truth,
+    Reminding me of days ere the sad blight
+      Of care had dimmed the brightness of my youth:
+      Yes, they were pleasant voices; but, forsooth,
+    They threw a kind of melancholy charm
+      Around my heart; as if in vengeful ruth,
+    Our very dreams have knowledge of the harm
+    Ourselves do to ourselves, without the least alarm!
+
+    I love such dreams, for at my couch there stood
+      One who, in other lands, with magic spell,
+    Had taught my untaught heart to love the good,
+      The pure, the holy, which in her did dwell.
+      It was a lovely image, and too well
+    I do remember me the fatal hour,
+      When that bright image--but I may not tell
+    How deep the thraldom, absolute the power--
+    My very dreams decide it was her only dower.
+
+                              _Sandwich Islands._
+
+    What are our dreams? A sort of fancy sketches,
+      Limned on the mind's retina, with a grace
+    More subtle than the wakeful artist catches,
+      And tinted with a more ethereal trace.
+     Our dreams annihilate both time and space,
+    And waft us, with magnetic swiftness, back
+      O'er an oblivious decade to the place
+    Where youth's fond visions clustered o'er our track;
+    Of youth's fond hopes decayed, alas! there is no lack!
+
+    I love such dreams, for they are more than real;
+      They have a passion in them in whose birth
+    The heart receives again its beau ideal--
+      Its Platonized embodiment of worth.
+      Call ye them dreams! then what a mortal dearth
+    Throws its gaunt shadow o'er our little life!
+      Our very joy is mockery of mirth,
+    And our quiescence agony of strife:
+    If dreams are naught but dreams, what is our real life?
+
+                                                  E. O. H.
+
+
+
+
+A LEAF IN THE LIFE OF LEDYARD LINCOLN.
+
+A SKETCH.
+
+BY MARY SPENCER PEASE.
+
+It was in the joyous leaf-giving, life-giving month of June, of 18--,
+after an absence of six years, that I found myself once more among my
+own dearly loved native hills.
+
+An intense worshiper of Nature, I had gratified to the utmost my
+passion and curiosity by exploring all the accessible regions of the
+old world. I had studied every scene that was in any way famous, or
+_in_famous I might say with regard to some, if the necessity of
+clambering down or up unclimbable precipices, or wading through
+interminable swamps, could render them so.
+
+With all the fatigue and hardships I had undergone my reward was
+great, and had more than repaid me for the perilous dangers I had
+courted and conquered. I had gazed, and dreamed, and raved by turns. I
+had been melted into tears of tenderness by the perfect harmony and
+loveliness of some scenes, and had been frozen into awe by the
+magnificent grandeur and terrible sublimity of others. And, after
+those six years of travel in foreign lands, I had returned, my brain
+one endless panorama of hills, valleys and cloud-capped mountains,
+earth, skies, wood and water. Not one of those gorgeous scenes,
+however, had moved me as I was moved when once again I beheld my
+boyhood's home--the stately mansion of my fathers. Half hidden, it
+rose majestically amid the noble elms that surrounded it; there lay
+the velvet-green sloping lawn in front--down which, as a boy, I had
+rolled in the summer and sledded in the winter--there the wild,
+night-dark ravine in the rear--fit haunt for elves and gnomes--that
+terminated amid jagged rocks and tangled trees, in a rushing, roaring
+brook of no mean dimensions, almost as large as many of the so-called
+rivers of the mother country. Just at this point, at the turn of the
+old time-worn stage-road, where the venerable, picturesque old
+homestead of my sires burst thus suddenly into view, an opening in the
+trees, whether by accident or design, revealed one of the very
+merriest, maddest of musical water-falls, that went foaming and
+tumbling its snow-white, sparkling waters over a bed of huge rocks,
+and then, by a sudden wilful bend, that same loud-uttering brook was
+lost to view.
+
+As the rattling stage neared my home, my heart leaped within me, and
+every fibre of it trembled with emotion. I could have hugged and
+kissed each familiar sturdy old tree, looking so grand and natural. My
+soul warmed and yearned toward the well remembered scene; and as I
+thought upon my fond, doting mother and my loving, lovely sisters, and
+my ever-indulgent father, I could have wept in the intensity of my
+joy at finding myself so near them, and breathing the same free, pure,
+health-giving air that had nurtured my childhood. But was there not
+sitting directly opposite to me one of the most exquisitely beautiful
+of God's lovely women; and did not her saucy, demure eyes seem to read
+my very soul? I therefore restrained a display of my feelings, for it
+would not have appeared in the least dignified or proper in a
+fine-looking young man (such as I imagined myself to be) of
+four-and-twenty, to be seen with eyes streaming like a young girl.
+
+More than once, during our short stage-coach ride had our eyes met;
+and hers had revealed to me a living well of spiritual beauty; and
+although they were withdrawn as soon as they encountered mine--not
+coquettishly, but with true feminine modesty--still they were not
+turned away until our mutual eyes had flashed one electrical spark of
+mutual understanding and mutual sympathy, that whole volumes of dull
+words could never express either as vividly or as truly. What a
+heaven-born mystery is contained in the glance of an eye: it can kill
+and can make alive; it can fill the heart with a sudden and delicious
+ecstasy, and it can plunge it into the deepest, darkest despair.
+
+I gave her one last look as the stage stopped before my father's door,
+and if it expressed one tithe of what I felt, it told her of my warm
+admiration of her glorious beauty, and of my sorrow at leaving her,
+perhaps forever, without knowing more of her.
+
+For the time the matchless image of my stage-coach companion was lost
+in the loving embraces and tender greetings of my family. I felt it
+truly refreshing, after six years of exile from my own kith and kin,
+to be caressed and made much of; to be told by three deliciously
+beautiful, exquisitely graceful sisters, hanging around one, and
+kissing one every other word, to be told how much the few last years
+had improved one, how handsome, &c. one was grown; was it not enough
+to somewhat turn one's brain, and make one a little vain and
+considerably happy.
+
+In the still hush of the night, after finding myself once more in my
+own room--_my_ room, with its cabinets of shells and mosses, that I
+had collected when a boy in my various trips to the seashore, all
+religiously left arranged as I had left them, its guns, fishing-rods,
+stuffed rabbits and birds, its preserved rattle-snakes and cases of
+insects, all of which had stood for so long a time in their respective
+places that they had become a part of the room--in the still hush of
+the night the divine image of my most beautiful stage-coach companion
+arose before me. The evening was warm and soft, and gleaming in the
+gorgeous moonlight lay that wild, weird ravine, and the ever downward,
+foaming water-fall. Its musical utterings, the delicious moonlight,
+and my own newly awakened and hitherto invulnerable heart, all
+conspired to make me poetical and inspired, or at least to imagine
+myself to be so; and pardon me if I gave utterance in verse to some of
+my feelings. But do not in the least imagine that you are going by any
+means to be presented with a fatiguing copy of my passionate numbers;
+in the first place I am very diffident, and in the next--but never
+mind the next, I will tell you in plain prose that I felt convinced in
+my heart, I felt a rapturous presentiment that the unutterably lovely
+being I had that day beheld would ere long be my own dear little wife,
+forever and forever. An indistinct dream of having somewhere, at some
+time before, known her haunted me and tormented me, but I racked my
+brains in vain to recollect the spot or time, and finally came to the
+conclusion that it had been in another state of existence we had met.
+
+I had been home but a few days when business letters came, demanding
+the presence of my father or myself in Philadelphia. My father
+expressed a desire that I should go, and a certain internal prompting
+urged me to comply with his request. The next morning bright and early
+found me seated in the same stage-coach in which I had met her. The
+due progress of steamboat and cars deposited me safely the day after
+in the goodly city of Squareruledom.
+
+The first leisure moment at my command, I paid my respects to the
+family of my father's brother. I found my good uncle and aunt at home;
+but my little pet Emily--their only child--whom I had last seen a rosy
+romping little imp of twelve--was unfortunately out. My uncle urged me
+very hard to make his house my home during my stay in Philadelphia;
+but I had taken up my abode in the family of an old college chum of
+mine, who had lately commenced the practice of the art of healing, and
+who I knew would be none the worse from a little of my help in a
+pecuniary way. I therefore declined my kind uncle's request, with a
+promise to come and see them often.
+
+Judge of my inexpressible joy when, turning a corner of a street,
+after leaving my uncle's, who should I chance upon but the very being
+of whom my brain and heart were full! Yes, there was the identical
+she, and bless her dear little heart! she gave me a bright half smile
+of recognition, which I returned with as profound a bow as ever
+courtier bowed to queen, or devotee to Pope's sublime imperial toe.
+
+An omnibus came rolling by, which she, with a motion of her neat
+little gloved hand, bid stop. She stepped lightly into it, while I,
+with my usual impetuosity, without knowing exactly what I was doing,
+sprang after her. I consoled myself for my apparent rudeness by
+throwing the entire blame upon the elective affinities.
+
+On we went, and from time to time as I stole a glance at her sweet
+face, I thought I detected a sly, mischievous little devil playing
+around the corners of her small dimpled mouth, and about the pure lids
+of her downcast long-fringed eyes. She never vouchsafed me a look,
+however; and as we went on, and as I still watched her lovely face, a
+dread vision arose up before me of a six-foot and well proportioned
+youth, with fierce whiskers and a moustache of undisputable cut and
+style, that I remembered to have seen with the young lady during our
+stage-coach ride together--that I remembered, with a terrible
+heart-sinking, was impressively attentive to her. I inwardly resolved
+to let nature have her way, and let all the hair grow on my face that
+would; what if it did grow a little reddish or so--why I should
+resemble the rising sun, with my glory like a halo around me.
+Seriously, I have long been of the opinion that a shaved face is as
+much of a disgrace, and ought to be so considered, as a shaved head
+fresh from prison. Why do we not finish the half completed work and
+actually shave off the hair of our heads, our eye-brows and lashes, as
+well as our beards, and thus go cool and comfortable through the
+world? There would be this advantage in it, the disciples of Spurzheim
+would have no trouble of making a map of our bumps at sight; and then
+think what an immense saving it would be in combs and brushes, to say
+nothing of pomatum, which some so freely use. I rejoice sincerely to
+see the sudden rise in crops of hair, and most truly hope they will
+not have as rapid a fall. Shaving is artificial and injurious,
+exposing parts to cold that Nature never meant should be exposed.
+Black, white or red--hair is a protection and ornament that no manly
+face or head should be without. Rejoice ye, therefore, over every
+repentant sinner who tarrieth in Jericho and letteth his beard to
+grow.
+
+But to return to my little omnibus companion, who by this time was
+gracefully moving over the smooth gravel-walks of Fairmount--for there
+we had stopped--and exceedingly refreshing were its cool shades and
+splashing fountains on that sultry June day. I kept as near her as I
+could without appearing rude, especially as I had received one or two
+half glances from her bright eyes, that nearly annihilated me, such an
+unearthly fluttering and bumping in the region of my heart did they
+create. Mercy upon me! what would a whole glance do? And for a whole
+glance I courageously resolved to strive, let the consequences be what
+they might.
+
+Now do you not expect an earthquake, or a roaring bull, or at least a
+rabid dog? It was nothing more however than a refreshing shower of
+rain--truly refreshing to my thirsty soul, for it gave me that coveted
+_whole_ glance. Heavens! I actually staggered, and would undoubtedly
+have fallen had it not been for a friendly sappling--you will sneer at
+witless I--that grew near me. But just try the effect upon yourself--a
+shock of electricity is nothing in comparison to a shock from a pair
+of bright eyes--such eyes as hers. The truth of the case was here, of
+a sudden, apparently from out the clear sky, came down, with not a
+moment's warning, a perfect avalanche of rain-drops--all expressly got
+up, or down, for my benefit, else why did I happen to have an umbrella
+in my hand? "A Wise man--" you remember the rest. My beautiful
+incognito was away up those long stairs, and walking leisurely around
+the immense basin, when the rain came down. I was not very far from
+her, and in less than an instant my umbrella was over her pretty
+little blue bonnet, with--
+
+"Be kind enough to accept my umbrella, Miss"--in the most insinuating
+manner of which I was master.
+
+"Thank you! but I will not deprive you of its shelter," with that
+whole glance of which I spoke. So on we went together, and somehow
+after we found ourselves under shelter, it was the easiest and most
+natural thing in the world to fall into a pleasant conversation. After
+talking about the scenery, weather, &c., we had mutually enjoyed
+during our short stage ride, I spoke of the beauty around us, and
+asked her if she often visited this lovely spot.
+
+"Not very often," replied she. "It is very beautiful though, in spite
+of all they have done to spoil it."
+
+"To spoil it!"
+
+"Yes, by making it as much like a chess-board as possible, all
+straight lines and stiffness. That is Philadelphia however."
+
+"Then you are not a Philadelphian, or it is not a favorite city with
+you?"
+
+"There you are mistaken. It is my native place, and a city I love
+dearly--with all its formalities and inhospitalities toward strangers.
+Philadelphia is a prim matron, with a warm heart but a most frigid,
+repulsive exterior, until you become acquainted with her--one of her
+particular children."
+
+"I have been told that there is a finer collection of works of art
+here than in any other city in the Union."
+
+"I believe you have been told correctly. We have more time in our
+quiet way to look after and admire the productions of the great
+masters. Our taste has wonderfully improved within a few years."
+
+"I have not been in town long enough to visit any of your show places
+yet."
+
+"How I _should_ like to see that lovely water-fall and the whole of
+that beautiful scene on canvas. Do you know I almost envied you a home
+in that beautiful house with all its picturesque surroundings."
+
+"I am truly thankful you had the kind grace to think of me at all."
+
+"How could I help it? I had a feeling the first moment I saw you that
+you and I were destined to be friends. Is there not a certain
+mysterious something--call it magnetism or instinct--that either draws
+us toward or repels us from every person we meet in either a greater
+or less degree? With me this instinct is very strong, and I obey it
+implicitly, never in one instance having found it to fail. I know at
+once who to trust and who to love. And would know, by the same
+unerring law of my nature, who to hate if ever I felt the least
+inclination to hate. The only feeling of hate I ever experienced is a
+strong desire to avoid all persons or things that are disagreeable to
+me. I love harmony the most perfect, and discord is a thing for me to
+flee from. I felt toward you a most decided drawing, and I felt a
+conviction then, as I do now, that we are to be very near and dear
+friends."
+
+The little angel! I could have hugged and kissed her on the spot; but
+I hugged her in my soul, and inwardly vowed to consecrate my life to
+her, if the "drawing" she felt for me could be rendered sufficiently
+strong to admit of such a thing. On a sudden I bethought me of the
+whiskered incognito, her stage attendant. I mustered courage to ask
+her in a half laughing way, if that fine-looking fellow she had called
+Charles were her brother.
+
+Instantly her manner changed from that of sweet and almost tender
+seriousness to an arch, quizzical one that puzzled me.
+
+"Oh no, not my brother," said she.
+
+"_Not_ her brother--a sharp pang of pain shot through me--I was
+getting dreadfully jealous--I looked all manner of curiosity and all
+manner of questions; she took pity on me and said--a smile still
+lurking in the corner of her eye--
+
+"He is no more nor less than the intended future husband of the one
+you see before you."
+
+"The future devil! I sincerely beg your pardon, but--you take me by
+surprise--I regret--but really I do not feel that it can be so."
+
+"And why not?"
+
+"Truly, why not!"
+
+"He is very handsome."
+
+"That is as one thinks."
+
+"And very accomplished."
+
+"In flattery, most like."
+
+"And a most profound scholar."
+
+"In the art of making love, it would seem."
+
+"But I do not love him."
+
+"Not love him!"
+
+"No, nor never can."
+
+"Then why, my dearest young lady, do you marry him?"
+
+"You may well ask; why indeed?"
+
+"You seemed very friendly with him the day I saw you together, and
+happier than I could have wished you."
+
+"That was before I knew I was to be his wife. It has only been decided
+upon a few days."
+
+"And now?"
+
+"It is a long story, that I may tell you if we should meet again. I
+never can love him, though I greatly esteem him, and--"
+
+"_Esteem!_"
+
+"A sad substitute for love; but what is love without esteem?"
+
+"What is esteem without love?"
+
+"Very true. It was not my own doing, although I reluctantly gave my
+consent. If I can with honor release myself from this unfortunate
+engagement--I have thought more and more every day since, that love,
+true heart-love, is the only tie that should sanction the union of two
+beings--but why should I talk in this way to you, a stranger? I cannot
+feel, however that you are a stranger; we have surely met before in
+some other state of being. I am a firm believer in the beautiful faith
+of the transmigration of souls--of pre-existence. What is it that
+brings two congenial souls together, uniting them in one hour in more
+perfect harmony than whole years could effect among ordinary
+acquaintances?"
+
+"Something unexplainable," I answered, "as it is mysterious. We can
+call it elective affinity, and can talk very learnedly upon the
+singular attraction of the magnet, as applied to the poles as well as
+souls, and we can make vast and wise experiments, and in the end be as
+far from the real cause as we were before the Solomonic experiments
+were made. The school-boy's reasoning was more to the point--
+
+    "I do not like you, Dr. Fell,
+     The reason why I cannot tell."
+
+I love you dearly, Dr. Fell, the reason why, &c., would be just as
+conclusive. We are so accustomed to seeing drops of water drawing near
+to meet each other, and mingling in a loving embrace of perfect unity,
+that we cease to wonder at the occurrence, as we do also at the fact
+that oil and water will not mingle."
+
+"Just as my soul will _not_ mingle with the souls of some. There is an
+antagonism more or less decided between my inner self and many persons
+I know; people, too, that I am compelled to be friendly with, and wish
+to be friendly with, many of them my cousins and aunts. Then again
+toward some am I as irresistibly attracted."
+
+Her beautiful eyes sought mine frequently during our conversation, and
+her glorious soul looked through them--earnest, simple and pure.
+
+"Just so," resumed she, after a pause, during which her sweet, soft
+eyes had been gazing on the dreamy waters. "Just so have I felt
+attracted toward you. I could sit down beside you and tell my whole
+soul to you as freely as though you were my own brother."
+
+The word _brother_ sent a disagreeable shiver through me that all her
+sweet confidence could not banish.
+
+"But," exclaimed she, starting up, "what am I doing? The rain has
+stopped, and the waning sun warns me that it is time to be at home.
+And what _must_ you think of me? I hardly dare to ask the--"
+
+"That you are the most lovely, most glorious of all Heaven's glorious
+creatures; that you--"
+
+"There, there! if you talk in that way, I shall truly repent having
+said all I have to you."
+
+"Forgive me; though I spoke sincerely, I hope--"
+
+"I will forgive on condition of good behavior in future. But I must
+not stay for another word. Promise me that you will not leave this
+spot until ten minutes after the omnibus I shall be in is out of
+sight."
+
+"I promise," said I, reluctantly.
+
+She gave me her little, soft, ungloved hand at parting; its gentle
+pressure sent a thrill of ecstasy through me, and I looked all the
+unutterable things that my full soul felt into her warm brown eyes.
+And, by the way, I may as well say that my own eyes are--they are a
+dark, deep blue, and strangely expressive, if I believe my sisters
+and my friends, and--my own glass.
+
+For one week did I wander up and down the streets, and watch every
+omnibus, and stare into the windows and doors of every house I passed.
+I peered under every pretty bonnet I met, and was, on the eighth day,
+giving full chase to a coquettish little blue one, in the earnest hope
+of finding the sweet face of my beautiful incognita hidden under it,
+when some one laid a strong grasp on my shoulder, and looking around,
+I beheld the generous face of my good uncle.
+
+"Bless the boy! why, Led, what is your hurry? Your business must have
+been _very_ urgent this last week. Why, in the name of all the saints,
+have you kept away so studiously? There is poor little Emily actually
+dying with anxiety to see you. Bless my soul! is this the way to treat
+your friends? But now that I have fairly captured you, I do not intend
+to let you go."
+
+And he did not, and would not; so I had to go with him. And what do
+you think? The first object that met my bewildered gaze, as my uncle
+led me into the drawing-room, was--herself! her very self! but so
+altered, looking so cold and stately. My uncle introduced me to her as
+"My daughter Emily, nephew Ledyard." "My daughter Emily" inclined her
+beautiful head most graciously, and sweetly smiled, but not one
+recognizing glance did she deign to bestow on poor "nephew Ledyard."
+Lovely she was, and proud and majestic as a queen. What could it mean?
+I made several well-planned alluions to omnibuses and stages, &c., not
+one of which did she seem to comprehend.
+
+Her exceeding beauty still charmed me in spite of her coldness; and I
+stayed to tea and then the evening. My cousin sung for me; her voice
+was highly cultivated and exceedingly sweet, and full of feeling. Song
+after song she poured forth into the listening air, and each song
+entranced me more than the last.
+
+We conversed gayly on several topics, and she grew more and more
+familiar with me, alluded playfully to our childish intimacy; still,
+to the very close of the evening, did she refuse to remember by look
+or word that we had met since children. She evidently wished to
+forget, and wished me to forget the whole of that pleasant interview
+that had afforded _me_, at least, such soul-felt delight; yet she
+acted her part so well, was so careless and unconscious, and withal so
+cold and full of queenly dignity, that I went home in a perfect
+bewilderment of amazement.
+
+As I lay tossing on a sleepless bed, and in my heart bitterly railing
+against the perversity and incomprehensibility of women, I found
+myself incessantly repeating to myself, "Am I Giles, or am I not;" the
+truth flashed upon me that I was the unhappy victim of an optical
+illusion, that the Cousin Emily I had but a little before left was
+simply my Cousin Emily, and not the beautiful being of whom my heart
+and life were full--that incessant thinking of her, and seeking her,
+had crazed my brain. I relighted my lamp and made my way into the
+doctor's study. I read all I could find on the subject of optical
+delusion and maniacal hallucination until I convinced myself that I
+was laboring under a very alarming attack of one or both, and resolved
+on seriously consulting my friend, the doctor, early the next morning.
+
+I went back to bed with the decided opinion that I was exceedingly to
+be pitied--how would it appear in the papers? for I must undoubtedly
+grow worse, and it must undoubtedly end in suicide. "Sad occurrence,"
+"nice young man," "brilliant prospects," "only son of--," and
+"promising talents," "laboring under incipient insanity," "fatal cause
+unknown," &c., &c. I sympathized with myself until near morning, then
+fell into a sleep, which lasted until the bell rung for breakfast. I
+dressed in a hurry, and got down before the muffins were quite cold. I
+ate a hearty breakfast, read a newspaper or two, and determining on
+seeing my cousin again before I made up my mind to ask advice, I soon
+found myself at her door. The fresh morning air and the walk had so
+invigorated me, that I laughed at my last night's fears, especially as
+my lovely cousin came into the drawing-room to receive me, radiant
+with health and beauty. I found her just the same as she was the night
+before, gay, witty and charming, and as cold as marble. Still I could
+not be mistaken; for, with all her feigned coldness--for some good
+reason of her own undoubtedly--there was no doubting her identity with
+that of my glorious Fairmount vision.
+
+The day was a lovely one, soft and mild as a June morning could make
+it. After conversing on indifferent subjects for a time, I asked her,
+remarking on the deliciousness of the morning, if she would not like
+to go out with me to Fairmount. She assented with a quiet smile, as
+innocently as though she had never in her life before heard of such a
+place as Fairmount.
+
+"The little-deceiver!" thought I. "Which way shall we go?" said I,
+aloud, and very significantly, "shall we take the omnibus?"
+
+"I will order the carriage," replied she, with a slight shrug; "I
+never ride in those omnibusses, one meets with such odd people."
+
+"_Never?_" asked I, emphatically.
+
+"Certainly, never!" answered she, with much apparent surprise.
+
+My drive was a delightful one. How could it be otherwise, with a
+glorious day surrounding me, and a gloriously beautiful cousin sitting
+beside me, with whom I could not exactly make up my mind whether to
+fall desperately _in_ love, or desperately _out_ of love. I, too, such
+an enthusiastic lover of beauty. But she chose to be so different from
+what she was at our first meeting--so reserved, that I could not
+decide whether I most loved or was most indifferent to her.
+
+We rode all the morning, and I left her, promising to call again in
+the evening. I walked the streets until dark, the whole affair vexed
+me so much--I, such a hater of all mysteries, the most impatient of
+all breathing mortals. I determined to come at once to an
+understanding with my perverse little cousin, and to decide at once
+the puzzling question whether to love or not to love.
+
+In the evening I found myself alone with my little tormentor.
+
+"Now, sweet Cousin Emily," said I, playfully, "you have been teazing
+me long enough with your pretty affectation of ignorance and
+innocence--not but that you are as ignorant as the rest of your sweet
+sex, and as innocent too--but, I beseech you, lay by this
+masquerading, you have played possum long enough. I humbly implore of
+you to be the same to me that you were in our first visit to
+Fairmount--the earnest, simple-hearted Cousin Emily you then were."
+
+"Mr. Lincoln speaks in enigmas; I must confess I do not understand his
+meaning, nor his elegant allusion to 'playing possum.'"
+
+This she said with so much haughtiness, that I was taken all aback.
+Rallying, however, in a moment I determined not to give up the point.
+
+"I beseech of you to pardon the inelegance of my expression, and also
+my pertinacity in insisting upon some explanation of your manner
+toward me. It will all do very well for the stage," continued I,
+bitterly, "but in real life, among cousins, and two that have met so
+frankly, and in such sincerity, I feel that our acquaintanceship must
+at once end, pleasant as it has been, as it might be to me, unless you
+lay aside this assumed coldness. It harasses me more than I can
+express. Emily, after seeing you in the stage-coach, I thought I had
+never met with one half so lovely, and I could think of nothing but
+you. After remaining at home but one week, business called me to
+Philadelphia. Judge of my delight when almost the first object that
+met my view was your beautiful, unforgotten little self. You were just
+stepping into one of those very omnibusses you have since seen fit to
+decry. What followed you must remember as distinctly as I--no _not_ as
+distinctly, for the whole of that delicious interview is engraven on
+my heart--one of the sun-bright scenes of my life that I can never
+forget. And now, after that beautiful interchange of thought and soul
+that promised--every thing, do I find you cold, impassive. If you
+repent the trust you so freely reposed in me, in all frankness, say
+so; but for the sweet love of heaven, do not pretend to such--"
+
+"For the sweet love of heaven what is the man raving about? Are you
+mad, dear cousin, insane? Poor Cousin Ledyard! Or is it--?" her whole
+manner changed, her brilliant eyes lighted up with intense fire. How
+beautiful she looked! I could have knelt and worshiped her, though,
+strange to say, my restless, ardent love for her had entirely abated.
+"Yes!" exclaimed she, "it must be so;" and with that she clasped her
+small white hands, and throwing back her fine head, laughed with all
+her heart, and strength, and soul.
+
+This was very pleasant for me; still I had to join her laugh, it was
+so genuine and infectious.
+
+"Forgive me, dear cousin, forgive me for my rude laughter; forgive me
+also for my folly in attempting to deceive you. You will hereafter
+find me the same you found me in our first pleasant interview. Here is
+my hand--I will not explain one other word to-night; I hear voices on
+the stairs. Come here to-morrow evening at eight, and you shall know
+all--all my reasons."
+
+"And why not to-morrow morning, cruel cousin?"
+
+"I am engaged all of the day to-morrow. I go with mamma and papa out
+of town, ten miles or so, to dine; a stupid affair, but mamma wishes
+it."
+
+"But before you go--just after breakfast."
+
+"No, no--come in the evening."
+
+By this time the voices heard on the stairs had entered the room in
+the shape of a merry half-dozen of my cousin's young friends. Feeling
+too agitated for society, I withdrew.
+
+And now another night and a whole day more of suspense--that pale
+horror, that come in what shape it will, even in the shape of a
+beautiful cousin, always torments the very life from my heart.
+
+All the clocks in town were striking eight as I rung my uncle's bell.
+I found the drawing-room full of company, at which I felt vexed and
+disappointed.
+
+My lovely cousin came up to me and placed her arm within mine, and led
+me through the next room into the conservatory, and there, seated amid
+the rare eastern flowers, herself the queen of them, was, gracious
+heaven! I dared scarcely breathe, so great was my fear of dispelling
+the beautiful illusion. It was she! none other; my stage-coach
+companion--my Fairmount goddess. The musical, measured voice of my
+statue-like Cousin Emily brought me to myself.
+
+"Allow me. Cousin Ledyard, to introduce you to _my_ Cousin Emily."
+
+There they both stood, one Cousin Emily, calm, stately, serene; the
+other trembling and in blushes.
+
+I looked from one to the other in the most ludicrous bewilderment, yet
+each glance showed me more and more what a wonderful fool I had been
+making of myself for the last few days. Still they were strangely
+alike; their own kindred could not at times distinguish one from the
+other. My heart could feel the difference. _My_ Emily was a child of
+nature, the other bred in a more conventional school. My Emily was a
+shade less tall, less stately, less Grecian, and exquisitely more
+lovely, and loving.
+
+But that double wedding _was_ a grand one. By what means my Emily
+contrived to disentangle herself from that handsome-whiskered
+"Charles," and to entangle him fast in the chains of the other Emily,
+any one who wishes to know, and will take the trouble, can have all
+due information on the subject, and can also learn how I wooed my
+peerless Emily and won her, by coming to our lovely picturesque
+dwelling, situate in one of the most romantic spots in the country. I
+write you all to come, one by one, and spend a month with me, and you
+shall know all the particulars. You will find my little Emily a
+pattern housekeeper; you will also find a ready welcome. Bless her
+sweet face! There she sits, at the moment that I am writing this to
+you, with her willow arms twined around the exquisite form of her
+little lily-bud boy, and bending low her graceful form over him,
+hushing to sleep the very bravest, noblest, merriest little specimen
+of babyhood--the exact image of his enraptured father.
+
+
+
+
+THE DEFORMED ARTIST.
+
+BY MRS. E. N. HORSFORD.
+
+
+    The twilight o'er Italia's sky
+      Had wove a shadowy veil,
+    And one by one the solemn stars
+      Looked forth serene and pale;
+    As quickly the waning light
+      Through a high casement stole,
+    And fell on one with silver hair,
+      Who shrived a passing soul.
+
+    No costly pomp and luxury
+      Relieved that chamber's gloom,
+    But glowing forms, by limner's art
+      Created, thronged the room:
+    And as the low winds echoed far
+      The bell for evening prayer,
+    The dying painter's earnest tones
+      Fell on the languid air.
+
+    "The spectral form of Death is nigh,
+      The thread of Life is spun,
+    Ave Maria! I have looked
+      Upon my latest sun.
+    And yet 'tis not with pale disease
+      This frame is worn away,
+    Nor yet--nor yet with length of years--
+      A child but yesterday"
+
+    "I found within my father's hall
+      No fervent love to claim--
+    The curse that marked me from my birth
+      Devoted me to shame.
+    I saw upon my brother's brow
+      Angelic beauty lay,
+    The mirror gave me back a form
+      That thrilled me with dismay."
+
+    "And soon I learned to shrink from all,
+      The lowly and the high;
+    To see but scorn on every lip,
+      Contempt in every eye.
+    And for a time e'en Nature's smile
+      A bitter mockery wore,
+    For beauty stamped each living thing
+      The wide creation o'er;"
+
+    "And I alone was cursed and loathed;
+      'Twas in a garden bower
+    I knelt one eve, and scalding tears
+      Fell fast on many a flower;
+    And as I rose I marked with awe
+      And agonizing grief,
+    A frail mimosa at my feet
+      Fold close each fragile leaf."
+
+    "Alas! how dark my lot if thus
+      A plant could shrink from me;
+    But when I looked again I marked
+      That from the honey-bee,
+    The falling leaf, the bird's gay wing,
+      It shrunk with pain and fear,
+    A kindred presence I had found,
+      Life waxed sublimely clear."
+
+    "I climbed the lofty mountain height
+      And communed with the skies,
+    And felt within my grateful heart
+      Strange aspirations rise.
+    Oh! what was this humanity
+      When every beaming star
+    Was filled with lucid intellect,
+      Congenial, though afar."
+
+    "I mused beneath the avalanche,
+      And traced the sparkling stream,
+    Till Nature's face became to me
+      A passion and a dream:"
+    Then thirsting for a higher lore
+      I left my childhood's home,
+    And stayed not till I gazed upon
+      The hills of fallen Rome.
+
+    "I stood amid the forms of light,
+      Seraphic and divine,
+    The painter's wand had summoned from
+      The dim Ideal's shrine;
+    And felt within my fevered soul
+      Ambition's wasting fire,
+    And seized the pencil with a vague
+      And passionate desire"
+
+    "To shadow forth, with lineaments
+      Of earth, the phantom throng
+    That swept before my sight in thought,
+      And lived in storied song.
+    Vain, vain the dream--as well might I
+      Aspire to build a star,
+    Or pile the gorgeous sunset clouds
+      That glitter from afar."
+
+    "The threads of life have worn away,
+      Discordantly they thrill,
+    But soon the sounding chords will be
+      Forever mute and still.
+    And in the spirit-land that lies
+      Beyond, so calm and gray,
+    I shall aspire with truer aim--
+      Ave Maria! pray!"
+
+
+
+
+A FAREWELL TO A HAPPY DAY.
+
+BY FRANCES S. OSGOOD.
+
+
+    Good-bye--good-bye, thou gracious, golden day:
+    Through luminous tears, thou smilest, far away
+    In the blue heaven, thy sweet farewell to me,
+    And I, through _my_ tears, gaze and smile with thee.
+
+    I see the last faint, glowing, amber gleam
+    Of thy rich pinion, like a lovely dream,
+    Whose floating glory melts within the sky,
+    And now thou'rt passed forever from mine eye!
+
+    Were we not friends--_best_ friends--my cherished day?
+    Did I not treasure every eloquent ray
+    Of golden light and love thou gavest me?
+    And have I not been true--most true to thee?
+
+    And _thou_--thou earnest like a joyous bird,
+    Whose sacred wings by heaven's own air were stirred.
+    And lowly sang me all the happy time
+    Dear, soothing stories of that blissful clime!
+
+    And more, oh! more than this, there came with thee,
+    From Heaven, a stranger, rare and bright to me,
+    A new, sweet joy--a smiling angel-guest,
+    That softly asked a home within my breast.
+
+    For talking sadly with my soul alone,
+    I heard far off and faint a music-tone,
+    It seemed a spirit's call--so soft it stole
+    On fairy wings into my waiting soul.
+
+    I _knew_ it summoned me to something sweet,
+    And so I followed it with faltering feet;
+    And found--what I had prayed for with wild tears--
+    A rest, that soothed the lingering grief of years!
+
+    So for that deep, perpetual joy, my day!
+    And for all lovely things that came to play
+    In thy glad smile--the pure and pleading flowers
+    That crowned with their frail bloom thy flying hours--
+
+    The sunlit clouds--the pleasant air that played
+    Its low lute-music 'mid the leafy shade--
+    And, dearer far, the tenderness that taught
+    My soul a new and richer thrill of thought--
+
+    For these--for all--bear thou to Heaven for me
+    The grateful thanks with which I mission thee!
+    Then should thy sisters, wasted, wronged, upbraid,
+    Speak _thou_ for me--for thou wert not betrayed!
+
+    'Twas little--true--I could to thee impart--
+    I, with my simple, frail and wayward heart;
+    But that I strove the diamond sands to light,
+    In Life's rich hour-glass, with _Love's_ rainbow flight;
+
+    And that one generous spirit owed to me
+    A moment of exulting ecstasy;
+    And that I won o'er wrong a queenly sway--
+    For this, thou'lt smile for me in Heaven, my Day!
+
+
+
+
+SAM NEEDY.
+
+A TALE OF THE PENITENTIARY.
+
+BY LOUIS FITZGERALD TASISTRO.
+
+
+Several years ago, a man of the name of Samuel Needy, a poor artisan,
+was living in London. He had with him a wife, and a child by this
+wife. This artisan was skillful, quick, intelligent, very ill-treated
+by education, very well-treated by nature--able to think, but not to
+read. One winter his work failed him--there was neither fire nor food
+in his garret; the man, the woman, and the child were cold and hungry;
+he committed a theft; it is unnecessary to state what he stole, or
+whence he stole it. Suffice it to know, that the consequences of this
+theft were three days' food and fire to the wife and child, and five
+years of imprisonment to the man.
+
+Sam Needy, lately an honest man, now and henceforth a thief, was
+dignified and grave in appearance; his high forehead was already
+wrinkled, though he was still young; some gray lines lurked among the
+black and bushy tufts of his hair; his eye was soft, and buried deep
+beneath his lofty and well-turned eye-brow; his nostrils were open,
+his chin advancing, his lip scornful; it was a fine head--let us see
+what society made of it.
+
+He was a man of few words--more frequent gestures--somewhat imperious
+in his whole manner, and one to make himself obeyed; of a melancholy
+air--rather serious than suffering; for all that he had suffered
+enough.
+
+In the place where he was confined there was a director of the
+work-rooms--a kind of functionary peculiar to prisons, who combined in
+himself the offices of turnkey and tradesman, who would at the same
+time issue an order to the workman and threaten the prisoner--put
+tools in his hand and irons on his feet. This man was a variety of his
+own species--a man peremptory, tyrannical, governed by his fancies,
+holding tight the reins of his authority, and yet, on occasion, a boon
+companion, jovial and condescending to a joke--rather hard than
+firm--reasoning with no one--not even himself--a good father, and
+doubtless a good husband--(a duty, by the way, and not a virtue;) in
+short, evil but not bad. The principal, the diagonal line of this
+man's character was obstinacy; he was proud of it, and therein
+compared himself to Napoleon, when he had once fixed what he called
+_his will_ upon an absurdity, he went to its furthest length, holding
+his head high, and despising all obstacles. Such violence of purpose
+without reason, is only folly tied to the tail of brute force, and
+serving to lengthen it. For the most part, whenever a catastrophe,
+whether public or private, happens amongst men, if we look beneath the
+rubbish with which it strews the earth, to find in what manner the
+fallen fabric had been propped, we shall, with rare exceptions,
+discover it to have been blindly put together by a weak and obstinate
+man, trusting and admiring himself implicitly. Many of the smaller of
+these strange fatalities pass in the world for providences. Such was
+he who was the director of the work-rooms in the House of Correction
+where poor Sam Needy was sent to undergo his sentence. Such was the
+stone with which society daily struck its prisoners to draw sparks
+from them. The sparks which such stones draw from such flints often
+kindle conflagrations.
+
+In a short time Sam found the prison air natural to him, and appeared
+to have forgotten every thing; a certain severe serenity, which
+belonged to his character, had resumed its mastery.
+
+In about the same time he had acquired a singular ascendency over all
+his companions, as if by a sort of silent agreement, and without any
+one knowing wherefore, not even himself. All these men consulted him,
+listened to him, admired and imitated him, (the last point to which
+admiration can mount.) It was no slight glory to be obeyed by all
+these lawless natures; the empire had come to him without his own
+seeking--it was a consequence of the respect with which they beheld
+him. The eye of a man is a window, through which may be seen the
+thoughts which enter into and issue from his heart.
+
+Place an individual who possesses ideas among those who do not, at the
+end of a given time, and by a law of irresistible attraction, all
+their misty minds shall draw together with humility and reverence
+round his illuminated one. There are men who are iron, and there are
+men who are loadstone. Sam Needy was loadstone. In less than three
+months he had become the soul, the law, the order of the work-room; he
+was the dial, concentrating all rays; he must even himself have
+sometimes doubted whether he were king or prisoner--it was the
+captivity of a pope among his cardinals.
+
+By as natural a reaction, accomplished step by step, as he was loved
+by the prisoners, so was he detested by the jailers. It is always
+thus, popularity cannot exist without disfavor--the love of the slaves
+is always exceeded one degree by the hate of their masters.
+
+Sam Needy was, by his particular organization, a great eater; his
+stomach was so formed, that food enough for two common men would
+hardly have sufficed for his nourishment. Lord Slickborough had one of
+these large appetites, and laughed at it; but that which is a cause of
+gayety for a British peer, with a rent-roll of fifty-thousand pounds
+a year, is a heavy charge to an artisan, and a misfortune to a
+prisoner.
+
+Sam Needy, free in his own loft, worked all day, earned his four
+pounds of bread, and ate it; Sam Needy, in prison, worked all day,
+and, for his pains, received invariably one pound and a half of bread,
+and four ounces of meat; the ration admits of no change. Sam was
+therefore constantly hungry whilst in the House of Correction; he was
+hungry, and no more--he did not speak of it because it was not his
+nature so to do.
+
+One day Sam, after devouring his scanty pittance, had returned to his
+work, thinking to cheat his hunger by it--the rest of the prisoners
+were eating cheerily. A young man, pale, fair, and feeble-looking,
+came and placed himself near him; he held in his hand his ration, as
+yet untouched, and a knife; he remained in that situation, with the
+air of one who would speak, and dares not. The sight of the man, and
+his bread and meat annoyed Sam.
+
+"What do you want?" said he, rudely.
+
+"That you would do me a service," said the young man, timidly.
+
+"What?" replied Sam.
+
+"That you would help me to eat this--it is too much for me."
+
+A tear stood in the proud eye of Sam; he took the knife, divided the
+young man's ration into two equal parts, took one of them, and began
+eating.
+
+"Thank you," said the young man; "if you like, we will share together
+every day."
+
+"What is your name?" said Sam.
+
+"Heartall."
+
+"Wherefore are you here?"
+
+"I have committed a theft."
+
+"And I too," said Sam.
+
+Henceforth they did thus share together every day. Sam Needy was
+little more than thirty years old, but at times he appeared fifty, so
+stern were his thoughts usually. Heartall was twenty--he might have
+been taken for seventeen, so much innocence was there in his
+appearance. A strict friendship was knit up between the two, rather of
+father to son than brother to brother, Heartall being still almost a
+child, Sam already nearly an old man. They wrought in the same
+work-room--they slept under the same vault--they walked in the same
+airing-ground--they ate of the same bread. Each of these two friends
+was the universe to the other--it would seem that they were happy.
+
+Mention has already been made of the director of the work-rooms. This
+man, who was abhorred by the prisoners, was often obliged, in order to
+enforce obedience, to have recourse to Sam Needy, who was beloved by
+them. On more than one occasion, when the question was, how to put
+down a rebellion or a tumult, the authority without title of Sam Needy
+had given powerful aid to the official authority of the director; in
+short, to restrain the prisoners, ten words from him were as good as
+ten turnkeys. Sam had many times rendered this service to the
+director, wherefore the latter detested him cordially. He was jealous
+of him; there was at the bottom of his heart a secret, envious,
+implacable hatred against Sam--the hate of a titular for a real
+sovereign--of a temporal against a spiritual power; these are the
+worst of all hatreds.
+
+Sam loved Heartall greatly, and did not trouble himself about the
+director. One morning when the turnkeys were leading the prisoners,
+two by two, from their dormitory to the work-room, one of them called
+Heartall, who was by the side of Sam, and informed him that the
+director wished to see him.
+
+"What does he want with you?" said Sam.
+
+"I do not know," replied the other.
+
+The turnkey took Heartall away.
+
+The morning past; Heartall did not return to the work-room. When the
+dinner hour arrived, Sam expected that he should rejoin Heartall in
+the airing-ground--but no Heartall was there. He returned into the
+work-room, still Heartall did not make his appearance. So passed the
+day. At night, when the prisoners were removed to their dormitory, Sam
+looked out for Heartall, but could not see him. It would seem that he
+must have suffered much at that moment, for he addressed the
+turnkey--a thing which he had never done before.
+
+"Is Heartall sick?" was his question.
+
+"No," replied the turnkey.
+
+"Why is it, then, that he has not again made his appearance to-day?"
+
+"Ah," replied the turnkey, carelessly, "they have put him in another
+ward."
+
+The witnesses who deposed to these facts at a later period, remarked,
+that at this answer, Sam's hand, in which was a lighted candle,
+trembled a little. He again asked, calmly,
+
+"Whose order was this?"
+
+The turnkey said "Mr. Flint's."
+
+The name of the director of the work-rooms was Flint.
+
+The next day went by like the last, but no news of Heartall.
+
+That evening, when the day's work ended, Mr. Flint came to make his
+usual round of inspection. As soon as Sam Needy saw him, he took off
+his cap of coarse wool, buttoned his gray vest, sad livery of the
+work-house, (it is a principle in prisons, that a vest, respectfully
+buttoned, bespeaks the favor of the superior officers,) and placed
+himself at the end of his bench, waiting till the director came by. He
+passed.
+
+"Sir," said Sam.
+
+The director stopped and turned half round.
+
+"Sir," said Sam, "is it true that Heartall's ward has been changed?"
+
+"Yes," returned the director.
+
+"Sir," continued Sam, "I cannot live without Heartall; you know that
+with the ration of the house I have not enough to eat, and that
+Heartall shared his bread with me."
+
+"That was his business," replied the director.
+
+"Sir, is there no means of getting Heartall replaced in the same ward
+as myself?"
+
+"Impossible! it is so decided."
+
+"By whom?"
+
+"By myself."
+
+"Mr. Flint," persisted Sam, "the question is my life or death, and it
+depends upon you."
+
+"I never revoke my decisions."
+
+"Sir, is it because I have given you offence?"
+
+"None."
+
+"In that case," said Sam, "why do you separate me from Heartall?"
+
+"_It is my will_" said the director.
+
+With this explanation he went away.
+
+Sam Needy stooped his head and made no answer. Poor caged lion, from
+whom they had taken his dog!
+
+The grief of this separation in no way changed the prisoner's almost
+disease of voracity. Nor was he, in other respects, obviously altered.
+He did not speak of Heartall to any of his comrades. He walked alone
+in the airing-ground, in the hours of recreation, and suffered
+hunger--nothing more.
+
+Nevertheless, those who knew him well, remarked something of a
+sinister and sombre expression which daily overspread his countenance
+more and more. In other respects he was gentler than ever. Many wished
+to share their ration with him, but he refused with a smile.
+
+Every evening, after the explanation which the director had given him,
+he committed a sort of folly, which, in so grave a man, was
+astonishing. At the moment when the director, in the progress of his
+habitual duty, passed by Sam Needy's working-frame, he would raise his
+eyes, gaze steadily upon him, and then address to him, in a tone full
+of distress and anger, combining at once menace and supplication,
+these two words only--"_remember Heartall_!" the director would either
+appear not to hear, or pass on, shrugging his shoulders.
+
+He was wrong. It became evident to all the lookers on of these strange
+scenes, that Sam Needy was inwardly determined on some step. All the
+prison awaited with anxiety the result of this strife between
+obstinacy and resolution.
+
+It has been proved, that once Sam said to the director, "Listen, sir,
+give me back my comrade; you will do well to do it, I assure you. Take
+notice that I tell you this."
+
+Another time, one Sunday, when he had remained in the airing-ground
+for many hours in the same attitude, seated on a stone, his elbows on
+his knees, and his forehead buried in his hands, one of his
+fellow-convicts approached him, and cried out, laughing,
+
+"What are you about here, Sam?"
+
+Sam raised his stern head slowly, and said, "_I am sitting in
+judgment!_"
+
+At last, on the evening of the 1st of November, 1833, at the moment
+when the director was making his round, Sam Needy crushed under his
+foot a watch-glass, which he had that morning found in the corridor.
+The director inquired whence that noise proceeded.
+
+"It is nothing," said Sam. "It is I, Mr. Flint--give me back my
+comrade."
+
+"Impossible!" said his master.
+
+"It must be done though," said Sam, in a low and steady voice, and
+looking the director full in the face, added, "reflect, this is the
+first of November, I give you till the 10th."
+
+A turnkey made the remark to Mr. Flint that Sam Needy threatened him,
+and that it was a case for solitary confinement.
+
+"No, nothing of the kind," said the director, with a disdainful smile,
+"we must be gentle with these sort of people."
+
+On the morrow, another convict approached Sam Needy, who walked by
+himself, melancholy, leaving the other prisoners to bask in a patch of
+sunshine at the further corner of the court.
+
+"What now, Sam--what are you thinking of? You seem sad."
+
+"_I am afraid_," said Sam, "_that some misfortune will happen soon to
+this gentle Mr. Flint_."
+
+There are nine full days from the 1st to the 10th of November. Sam
+Needy did not let one pass without gravely warning the director of the
+state, more and more miserable, in which the disappearance of Heartall
+placed him. The director, worn out, sentenced him to four-and-twenty
+hours of solitary confinement, because his prayer was too like a
+demand. This was all that Sam Needy obtained.
+
+The 10th of November arrived. On this day Sam arose with such a serene
+countenance as he had not worn since the day when _the decision_ of
+Mr. Flint had separated him from his friend. When risen, he searched
+in a white wooden box, which stood at the foot of his bed, and
+contained his few possessions. He drew thence a pair of sempstress's
+scissors. These, with an odd volume of Cowper's poems, were all that
+remained to him of the woman he had loved--of the mother of his
+child--of his happy little home of other days. Two articles, totally
+useless to Sam; the scissors could only be of service to a woman--the
+book to a lettered person. Sam could neither sew nor read.
+
+At the time when he was traversing the old hall, which serves as the
+winter walk for the prisoners, he approached a convict of the name of
+Dawson, who was looking with attention at the enormous bars of a
+window. Sam was holding the little pair of scissors in his hands; he
+showed them to Dawson, saying, "To-night I will divide those bars with
+these scissors."
+
+Dawson began to laugh incredulously. Sam joined him.
+
+That morning he worked with more zeal than usual--faster and better
+than ever before. A little past noon he went down on some pretext or
+other to the joiner's workshop, on the ground-floor, under the story
+in which was his own. Sam was beloved there as every where else; but
+he entered it seldom. Thus it was--"Stop, here's Sam!" They got round
+him; it was a perfect holyday. He cast a quick glance around the room.
+Not one of the overlookers was there.
+
+"Who has a hatchet to lend me?" said he.
+
+"What to do?" was the inquiry.
+
+"Kill the director of the work-rooms."
+
+They offered him many to choose from. He took the smallest of those
+which were very sharp, hid it in his trowsers, and went out. There
+were twenty-seven prisoners in that room. He had not desired them to
+keep his secret; they all kept it. They did not even talk of it among
+themselves. Every one separately awaited the result. The thing was
+straight-forward--terribly simple. Sam could neither be counseled nor
+denounced.
+
+An hour afterward he approached a convict sixteen years old, who was
+lounging in the place of exercise, and advised him to learn to read.
+The rest of the day was as usual. At 7 o'clock at night the prisoners
+were shut up, each division in the work-room to which they belonged,
+and the overseers went out, as it appears was the custom, not to
+return till after the director's visit. Sam was locked in with his
+companions like the rest.
+
+Then there passed in this work-room an extraordinary scene, one not
+without majesty and awe, the only one of the kind which is to be told
+in this story. There were there (according to the judiciary deposition
+afterward made) four-and-twenty prisoners, including Sam Needy. As
+soon as the overseers had left them alone, Sam stood up upon a bench,
+and announced to all the room that he had something to say. There was
+silence.
+
+Then Sam raised his voice, and said, "You all know that Heartall was
+my brother. Here they do not give me enough to eat; even with the
+bread which I can buy with the little I earn, it is not sufficient.
+Heartall shared his ration with me. I loved him at first because he
+fed me, then because he loved me. The director, Mr. Flint, separated
+us; our being together could be nothing to him--but he is a
+bad-hearted man, who enjoys tormenting others. I have asked him for
+Heartall back again. You have heard me. He will not do it. I gave him
+till the 10th, which is to-day, to restore Heartall to me. He ordered
+me into solitary confinement for telling him so. I, during this time,
+have sat in judgment upon him, and condemned him to death. In two
+hours he will come to make his round. I warn you that I am about to
+kill him. Have you any thing to say on the matter?" All continued
+silent.
+
+He went on; he spoke (so it appears) with a peculiar eloquence, which
+was natural to him. He declared that he knew he was about to do a
+violent deed, but could not think it wrong. He appealed to the
+conscience of his four-and-twenty listeners. He was placed in a cruel
+extremity; the necessity of doing justice to himself was a strait into
+which every man found himself driven at one time or other; he could
+not, in truth, take the director's life without giving his own for it;
+but it was right to give his life for a just end. He had thought
+deeply on the matter, and that alone, for two months; he believed he
+was not carried away by passion, but if it were so, he trusted they
+would warn him. He honestly submitted his reasons to the just men whom
+he addressed. He was about to kill Mr. Flint; but if any one had any
+objection to make, he was ready to hear it.
+
+One voice alone was raised to say, that before killing the director,
+Sam ought to make one last attempt to soften him.
+
+"It is fair," said Sam. "I will do so."
+
+The great clock struck the hour--it was eight. The director would make
+his appearance at nine.
+
+No sooner had this extraordinary court of appeal ratified the sentence
+he had submitted to it, than Sam resumed his former serenity. He
+placed upon the table all the linen and garments he possessed--the
+scanty property of a prisoner--and calling to him, one after the
+other, those of his companions whom he loved best after Heartall, he
+divided all amongst them. He only kept the little pair of scissors.
+Then he embraced them all. Some of them wept--upon these he smiled.
+
+There were moments in this last hour, when he chatted with so much
+tranquillity, and even gayety, that many of his comrades inwardly
+hoped, as they afterward declared, that he might perhaps abandon his
+resolution.
+
+He perceived a young convict who was pale, who was gazing upon him
+with fixed eyes, and trembling doubtless from expectation of what he
+was about to witness. "Come, courage, young man," said Sam to him,
+softly, "it will be only the work of a moment."
+
+When he had distributed all his goods, made all his adieux, pressed
+all their hands, he interrupted the restless whisperings which were
+heard here and there in the dim corners of the work-room, and
+commanded that they should return to their labor. All obeyed him in
+silence.
+
+The apartment in which this passed was an oblong hall, a
+parallelogram, lighted with windows on its two longer sides, and with
+two doors opposite each other at the two ends of the room. The
+working-frames were ranged on each side near the windows, the benches
+touching the wall at right angles, and the space left free between the
+two rows of frames formed a sort of avenue, which went straight from
+one door to the other, crossing the hall entirely. It was this which
+the director traversed in making his inspection; he was to enter at
+the south door, and go out by the north, after having looked at the
+workmen on the right and left. Commonly he passed through quickly and
+without stopping.
+
+Sam Needy had reseated himself on his bench, and had betaken himself
+to his work. All were in expectation--the moment approached; on a
+sudden they heard the clock strike. Sam said, "It is the last
+quarter." Then he rose, crossed gravely a part of the hall, and placed
+himself, leaning on his elbow, on the first frame on the left hand
+side, close to the door of entrance; his countenance was perfectly
+calm and benign.
+
+Nine o'clock struck--the door opened--the director came in.
+
+At that moment the silence of the work-room was as of a chamber full
+of statues.
+
+The director was alone as usual; he entered with his jovial,
+self-satisfied, and stubborn air, without noticing Sam, who was
+standing at the left side of the door, his right hand hidden in his
+trowsers, and passed rapidly by the first frames, tossing his head,
+mumbling his words, and casting his glance, which was law, here and
+there, not perceiving that the eyes of all who surrounded him were
+fixed upon him as upon a fearful phantom. On a sudden he turned
+sharply round, surprised to hear a step behind him.
+
+It was Sam Needy, who for some instants followed him in silence.
+
+"What are you about there?" said the director. "Why are you not in
+your place?"
+
+Sam Needy answered respectfully, "Because I have something to say to
+you, Mr. Flint."
+
+"What about?"
+
+"Concerning Heartall."
+
+"Still Heartall!" exclaimed the director.
+
+"Always," replied Sam.
+
+"Be quiet," said the director, walking on again. "You are not content,
+then, with your four-and-twenty hours of solitary confinement?"
+
+Sam followed him--"Mr. Flint, give me back my comrade."
+
+"Impossible!"
+
+"Sir," said Sam, in a tone which might have softened the heart of a
+fiend, "I entreat you, restore Heartall to me. You shall see how well
+I will work. To you who are free, it is no matter--you do not know
+what the worth of a friend is; but I have only the four walls of my
+prison. You can come and go, I have nothing but Heartall--give him
+back to me. Heartall fed me--you know it well. It will only cost you
+the trouble of saying yes. What can it be to you that there should be
+in the same room one man called Sam Needy, another called
+Heartall?--for the thing is simply that, Mr. Flint; good Mr. Flint, I
+beseech you earnestly, for Heaven's sake!"
+
+Sam had probably never before said so much at one time to a jailer;
+exhausted with the effort, he paused. The director replied, with an
+impatient gesture,
+
+"Impossible--I have said it; speak to me no more about it, you wear me
+out."
+
+Then, as if in a hurry, he stepped on more quickly, Sam following.
+Thus speaking, they had reached the door of exit; the prisoners looked
+after them, and listened breathlessly.
+
+Sam gently touched the director's arm. "At least let me know why I am
+condemned to death--tell me why you have separated him from me?"
+
+"I have told you," answered the director; "_it is my will_."
+
+He turned his back upon Sam, and was about to take hold of the latch
+of the door.
+
+On this answer Sam had retreated a step; the assembled statues who
+were there saw him bring out his right hand, and the hatchet with it;
+it was raised, and ere the victim could utter one cry, three blows,
+one upon the other, had cleft his skull. At the moment, when he fell
+back, a fourth blow laid his face open; then, as if his frenzy, once
+let loose, _could not stop_, Sam struck a fifth blow; it was
+useless--he was dead.
+
+"Now for the other!" cried the murderer, and threw away the hatchet.
+That other was himself. They saw him draw from his bosom the small
+pair of scissors, and before any one could attempt to hinder him, bury
+them in his breast. The blade was too short to penetrate. He struck
+them in again and again, so many as twenty times. "Accursed heart!
+cannot I then reach you?" and finally fell in a dead swoon, bathed in
+his blood.
+
+Which of these men was the victim of the other?
+
+When Sam returned to consciousness, he was in bed, well attended, his
+wounds carefully bandaged; a humane nurse was about his pillow, and
+more than one magistrate, who asked him, with the appearance of great
+interest, "Are you better?"
+
+He had lost a great quantity of blood, but the scissors with which he
+had wounded himself, had done their duty ill--none of the wounds were
+dangerous.
+
+The examinations commenced. They asked him if it were he who had
+killed the director of the work-rooms. He replied, "It was." They
+asked him why he had done it. He answered--_it was his will._
+
+After this the wounds festered. He was seized with a severe fever, of
+which he only did not die. November, December, January, and February,
+went over in recovering him and preparing for his trial; physicians
+and judges alike made him the object of their care--the former healed
+his wounds, the latter made ready his scaffold. To be brief, on the
+5th of April, 1834, he appeared, being perfectly cured, before the
+Court of Sessions.
+
+Sam made a good appearance before the court; he had been carefully
+shaved, his head was bare; he was dressed in the sad prison livery of
+two shades of gray.
+
+When the trial was entered upon, a singular difficulty presented
+itself. Not any of the witnesses of the events of the 10th of
+November, would make a deposition against Sam. The presiding judge
+threatened them with his discretionary power in vain. Sam then
+commanded them to give evidence. All their tongues were loosed. They
+related what they had seen.
+
+Sam Needy listened with profound attention. When one of them, out of
+forgetfulness, or affection for him, omitted some of the circumstances
+chargeable upon the accused, Sam supplied them. By this means the
+chain of facts which has been related was unfolded before the court.
+
+There was one moment when some of the females present wept. The clerk
+of the court summoned the convict, Heartall. It was his turn to come
+forward. He entered, staggering with emotion--he wept. The police
+could not prevent his falling into the arms of Sam. Sam raised him,
+and said with a smile to the attorney-general, "Here is a villain who
+shares his bread with those who are hungry." Then he kissed Heartall's
+hand.
+
+The list of witnesses having been gone through, the attorney-general
+rose and spoke in these words: "Gentlemen of the jury, society would
+be shaken to its foundation if public vengeance did not overtake such
+great criminals as this man, who, etc., etc."
+
+After this memorable discourse, Sam's advocate spoke. The pleader
+against, and the pleader for, made each in due order, the evolutions
+which they are accustomed to make in the arena which is called a
+criminal court.
+
+Sam did not think that all was said that might be said. He arose in
+his turn. He spoke in a manner which must have amazed all the
+intelligent persons present on the occasion. It appeared as if there
+were more of the orator than the murderer in this poor artisan. He
+spoke in an upright attitude, with a penetrating and well-managed
+voice; with an open, sincere, and steadfast gaze, with a gesture
+almost always the same, but full of command. There were moments in
+which his genuine, lofty eloquence stirred the crowd to a murmur,
+during which Sam took breath, casting a bold gaze upon the bystanders.
+Then again, this man, who could not read, was as gentle, polished,
+select in his language, as a well-informed person--at other moments
+modest, measured, attentive, going step by step over the irritating
+parts of the argument, courteous to his judges. Once only he gave way
+to a burst of passion. The attorney-general had proved in his speech
+that Sam Needy had assassinated the director without any violence on
+his part, and consequently _without provocation_.
+
+"What!" exclaimed Sam Needy, "I have not been provoked! Ay--it is very
+true--I understand you. A drunken man strikes me with his dagger--I
+kill him, I have been provoked; you show mercy to me, you send me to
+Botany Bay. But a man who is not drunk, who has the perfect use of his
+reason, wrings my heart for four years, humbles me for four years,
+pierces me with a weapon every day, every hour, every minute, in some
+unexpected point for four years. I had a wife, for whose sake I became
+a thief--he tortures me through that wife; a child for whom I
+stole--he tortures me through that child. I have not bread enough to
+eat--a friend gives it me; he takes away my friend and my food. I ask
+for my friend back--he condemns me to solitary confinement. I speak to
+him--him, the spy--respectfully; he answers me in dog's language. I
+tell him I am suffering--he tells me I wear him out. What would you,
+then, that I should do? I kill him. It is well--I am a monster; I have
+murdered this man; I have not been provoked. You take my life for
+it--be it so."
+
+The debates being closed, the presiding judge made his impartial and
+luminous summing up. The results were these: a wicked life--a wretch
+in purpose. Sam Needy had begun by stealing--he then murdered. All
+this was true.
+
+When the jury were about being conducted to their apartment, the judge
+asked the accused if he had any thing to say upon the questions before
+them.
+
+"Little," replied Sam, "only this; I am a thief and an assassin. I
+have stolen, and have slain a man. But why have I stolen? Why have I
+murdered? Add these two questions to the rest, gentleman of the jury."
+
+After a quarter of an hour's deliberation on the part of the twelve
+individuals whom he had addressed as _gentlemen of the jury_, Sam
+Needy was condemned to death.
+
+Their decision was read to Sam, who contented himself with saying, "It
+is well--but why has this man stolen? Why has this man murdered? These
+are questions to which they make no answer."
+
+He was carried back to prison--he supped almost gayly.
+
+He had no wish to make an appeal against his sentence. The old woman
+who had nursed him entreated him with tears to do so. He complied out
+of kindness to her. It would appear as if he had resisted till the
+very last moment, for when he signed his petition in the register, the
+legal delay of three days had expired some minutes before. The
+benevolent old nurse gave him a crown. He accepted the money and
+thanked her.
+
+While his appeal was pending, offers of escape were made him. There
+was thrown, one after the other, in his dungeon, through its air-hole,
+a nail, a bit of iron file, and the handle of a bucket. Any of these
+three tools would have been sufficient to so skillful a man as Sam
+Needy to cut through his irons. He gave up the nail, the file, and the
+handle to the turnkey.
+
+On the 10th of June, 1834, seven months after the deed, its expiation
+arrived. That day, at seven o'clock in the morning, the recorder of
+the tribunal entered Sam Needy's dungeon, and announced to him that he
+had not more than an hour to live. His petition was rejected.
+
+"Come," said Sam, coldly, "I have this night slept well, without
+troubling myself that I should sleep still better the next."
+
+It would appear as if the words of strong men always receive a certain
+dignity from approaching death.
+
+The chaplain arrived--then the executioner. He was humble to the one,
+gentle to the other.
+
+He maintained a perfect ease of spirit. He listened to the chaplain
+with extreme attention, accusing himself of many things, and
+regretting that he had not been instructed in religion.
+
+At his request they had given him back the scissors with which he had
+wounded himself. One blade, which had been broken in his breast, was
+wanting. He entreated the jailor to have these scissors taken to
+Heartall as from himself.
+
+He besought those who bound his hands to place in his right hand the
+crown-piece which the good nurse had given him--the only thing which
+was now remaining to him.
+
+At a quarter to eight he was led out of his prison, with the customary
+mournful procession which attends the condemned. He was pale; his eyes
+were fixed on the chaplain--but he walked with a firm step.
+
+He ascended the scaffold gravely. He shook hands with the chaplain
+first, then the executioner, thanking the one, forgiving the other.
+The executioner _pushed him back gently_, says one account. At the
+moment when the assistant put the hideous rope round his neck, he made
+a sign to the chaplain to take the crown-piece which he had in his
+right hand, and said to him, "_For the poor_." At that moment the
+clock was striking eight, the sound from the steeple drowned his
+voice, and the chaplain answered that he could not hear him. Sam
+waited for an interval between two of the strokes, and repeated with
+gentleness, "_For the poor_."
+
+The eighth stroke had scarcely sounded when this noble and intelligent
+criminal was launched into eternity.
+
+
+
+
+THE ANGEL OF THE SOUL.
+
+BY J. BAYARD TAYLOR.
+
+
+    Una stella, una notte, ed una croce. _Antonio Bisazza._
+
+
+    Silence hath conquered thee, imperial Night!
+    Thou sit'st alone within her void, cold halls,
+    Thy solemn brow uplifted, and thy soul
+    Paining the space with dumb and mighty thought.
+    The dreary wind ebbs, voiceless, round thy form,
+    Following the stealthy hours, that wake no stir
+    In the hushed velvet of thy mantle's fold.
+    Thy thoughts take being: down the dusky aisles
+    Go shapes of good, and beckoning ghosts of crime,
+    And dreams of maddening beauty--hopes, that shine
+    To darken, and in cloudy height sublime,
+    The spectral march of some approaching Doom!
+    Nor these alone, oh! Mother of the world,
+    People thy chambers, echoless and vast;
+    Their dewy freshness like ambrosial cools
+    Life's fever-thirst, and to the fainting soul
+    Their porphyry walls are touched with light, and gleams
+    Of shining wonder dazzle through the void,
+    Like those bright marvels which the travele'rs torch
+    Wakes from the darkness of three thousand years,
+    In rock-hewn sepulchres of Theban kings.
+    Prophets, whose brows of pale, unearthly glow
+    Reflect the twilight of celestial dawns,
+    And bards, transfigured in immortal song,
+    Like eager children, kneeling at thy feet,
+    Unclasp the awful volume of thy lore.
+
+    My soul goes down thy far, untrodden paths,
+    To the dim verge of being. There its step
+    Touches the threshold of sublimer life,
+    And through the boundless empyrean leaps
+    Its prayer, borne like a faint, expiring cry,
+    To angel-warders, listening as they pace
+    The crystal walls of Heaven. Down the blue fields
+    Of the untraveled Infinite, they come:
+    Beneath their wings one sweet, dilating wave
+    Thrills the pure deep, and bears my soul aloft,
+    To walk amid their shining groups, and call
+    Its guardian spirit, as an orphan calls
+    His vanished brother, taken in childhood home:
+
+    "White through my cradled dreams thy pinions waved,
+    Lost Angel of the Soul! thy presence led
+    The babe's faint gropings through the glimmering dark
+    And into Being's conscious dawn. Thy hand
+    Held mine in childhood, and thy beaming cheek
+    Lay close, like some fond playmate's, to mine own.
+    Up to that boundary, whence the heart leaps forth
+    To life, like some wild torrent, when the rains
+    Pour dark and full upon the cloudy hills,
+    Thy gentle footsteps wandered near to mine.
+    Be with me now! Oh, in the starry hush
+    Of the deep night, that holds the earthly down
+    In all my nature, bring to me again
+    The early purity, which kept thy hand
+    From the entrancing harp it held in Heaven!
+    Through the warm starting of my hoarded tears,
+    Let me behold thine eyes divine, as stars
+    Gleam through the twilight vapors of the sea!
+
+    "Not yet hast thou forsaken me. The prayer
+    Whose crowning fervor lifts my nature up
+    Midway to God, may still evoke thy form.
+    Thou hast been with me, when the midnight dew
+    Clung damp upon my brow, and the broad fields
+    Stretched far and dim beneath the ghostly moon;
+    When the dark, awful woods were silent near,
+    And with imploring hands toward the stars
+    Clasped in mute yearning, I have questioned Heaven
+    For the lost language of the book of Life.
+    Oh, then thy face was glorious, and thy hair
+    On the white moonbeam floating, veiled thy brow,
+    But in the holy sadness of thine eye
+    Which held my spirit, tremblingly I saw,
+    Through rushing tears, the sign of angel-grief
+    O'er the false promise of diviner years.
+    From the far glide of some descending strain
+    Of tenderest music I have heard thy voice;
+    And thou hast called amid the stormy rush
+    Of grand orchestral triumph, with a sound
+    Resistless in its power. I feel the light,
+    Which is thine atmosphere, around my soul,
+    When a great sorrow gulfs it from the world.
+
+    "Come back! come back! my heart grows faint, to know
+    How thy withdrawing radiance leaves more dim
+    The twilight borders of the night of Earth.
+    Now when the bitter truth is learned; when all
+    That seemed so high and good but mocks its seeming--
+    When the warm dreams of youth come shivering back,
+    In the cold chambers of the heart to die--
+    When, with the wrestling years, familiar grows
+    The merciless hand of pain, desert me not!
+    Come with the true heart of the faithful Night,
+    When I have cast away the masquing garb
+    Of hollow Day, and lain my soul to rest
+    On her consoling bosom! From the founts
+    Of thine exhaustless light, make clear the road
+    Through toil and darkness, into God's repose!"
+
+
+
+
+SCOUTING NEAR VERA CRUZ.
+
+A SKETCH OF THE LATE CAMPAIGN.
+
+BY ECOLIER.
+
+
+Hours before day, Lieutenant Rolfe and his party were threading the
+mazes of the chapparal. The moon glistened upon their bayonets and
+bright barrels. Their path lay in a southwesterly direction, near the
+old road to Orizava. Here it passed through a glade or opening, where
+the moonbeams fell upon a profusion of flowers, there it reentered
+dark alleys among the clustering trees, where the "trail arms" was
+given in a half whisper. The boughs met and locked overhead, and the
+thick foliage hid the moon from sight. Now a bright beam escaping
+through some chance opening in the leaves, quivered along the path,
+and scared the wolf in his midnight wanderings. Out again upon the
+open track through the soft grass, and winding around the wild maguey,
+or under the claw-shaped thorns of the musquit. A deer sprung from his
+lair among the soft flowers--looked back for a moment at the strange
+intruders, and frightened at the gleaming steel, dashed off into the
+thicket. The woods are not silent by night, as in the colder regions
+of the north. The southern forest has its voices, moonlit or dark. All
+through the livelong night sings the mock-bird--screams the "loreto."
+From dark till dawn, you hear the hoarse baying of the "coyote," and
+the dismal howl of the gaunt gray wolf. The cicada fills the air with
+its monotonous and melancholy notes. In all these sounds there is a
+breathing, a wild voluptuousness that tells you you are wandering in
+the clime of the sun--amidst scenes like those rendered classical by
+the pen of St. Pierre. They who have read the sweet French romance,
+will recognize his faithful painting of tropical pictures. The sunny
+glades--and shady arbors--the broad green and yellow leaves--the tall
+palm-trees, with their long, lazy feathers and clustering fruits
+waving to the slightest breeze, and looking the same as in that sea
+island where they flung their changing shadows over the loves of Paul
+and Virginia. Scouting at night, and to strangers (as were Rolfe and
+his men) in the land, was not without its perils. Objects of alarm
+were near and around. The nopal rose before you like the picket of an
+enemy. Its dark column gleaming under the false light of the moon is
+certainly some sentinel on the outpost. A halt is the consequence, and
+silent and cat-like one of the party, on his hands and knees, steals
+nearer and nearer, through the thorny brambles, until the true nature
+of the apparition betrays itself, in the shape of a huge column of
+prickly pear. He then returns to his comrades, and the obstacle is
+passed, some one as he passes, with a muttered curse, slashing his
+sabre through the soft trunk of the harmless vegetable.
+
+The wild maguey grasps you by the leg, as though some hideous monster
+had sprung from the bushes. You start and rush forward, only to be
+dragged back among the elastic leaves. It is useless to struggle. You
+must either return and unwind yourself by gentle means, or leave the
+better part of your cloth inexpressibles in the ruthless fangs of the
+plant. The ranchero fences his limbs with leather, or with leggings of
+tiger-skin. It is not fancy or choice to wear leather breeches in
+Mexico. Necessity has something to say in fixing the fashion of your
+small clothes.
+
+When day broke, Rolfe and his party were ten miles from camp--ten
+miles from the nearest American picket, and with only thirty men! They
+were concealed in a thicket of aloes and musquit. This thicket crowned
+the only eminence for miles in any direction. It commanded a view of
+the whole country southward to the Alvarado.
+
+As the sun rose the forest echoed with sounds and song. The leaves
+moved with life, as a thousand bright-plumed birds flashed from tree
+to tree. The green parrot screamed after his mate, uttering his wild
+notes of endearment. They are seen in pairs flying high up in the
+heavens. The troupiale flashed through the dark foliage like a ray of
+yellow light. Birds seemed to vie with each other in their songs of
+love. Amidst these sounds of the forest, the ear of Rolfe caught the
+frequent crowing of cocks, the barking of dogs, and the other
+well-known sounds of the settlement. These were heard upon all sides.
+It was plain that the country was thickly settled, though not a house
+was visible above the tree-tops. The thin column of blue smoke as it
+rose above the green foliage proved the existence of dwellings.
+
+At some distance, westward, an open plain lay like an emerald lake.
+The woods that bordered it were of a darker hue than the meadow-grass
+upon its bosom. In this plain were horses feeding, and Rolfe saw at a
+glance that they were picketed. Some of them had dragged their
+laryettes and were straying from the group. There appeared to be in
+all about an hundred horses. It was plain that their owners were not
+far off. A thin blue smoke that hung over the trees on one side of the
+meadow gave evidence of a camp. The baying of dogs came from this
+direction, mingled with the sounds of human voices. It was evidently a
+camp of the "Jarochos," (guerilleros.)
+
+Suddenly a bugle sounded, wild and clear above the voices of the
+singing-birds, a few notes somewhat resembling the dragoon
+stable-call. The horses flung up their heads and neighed fiercely,
+looking toward the encampment. Presently a crowd of men were seen
+running from the woods, each carrying a saddle. The few strays that
+had drawn their pickets during the night, came running in at the
+well-known voices of their masters. The saddles were flung on and
+tightly girthed--the bits adjusted and the laryettes coiled and hung
+to the saddle-horns, in less time than an ordinary horseman would have
+put on a bridle. Another flourish of the bugle, and the troop were in
+their saddles and galloping away over the greensward of the meadow in
+a southerly direction. The whole transaction did not occupy five
+minutes, and it seemed to Rolfe and his party, who witnessed it, more
+like a dream than a reality. The Jarochos were just out of musket
+range. A long shot might have reached them, but even had Rolfe
+ventured this, it would have been with doubtful propriety. Rumor had
+fixed the existence of a large force of the enemy in this
+neighborhood. It was supposed that at least a thousand men were on the
+Alvarado road, with the intention of penetrating our lines, with
+beeves for the besieged Veracruzanos.
+
+"They got off in good time, sergeant," muttered Rolfe, "had they but
+waited half an hour longer--Oh! for a score of Harney's horses!"
+
+"Lieutenant, may I offer an opinion?" asked the sergeant, who had
+raised himself and stood peering through the leafy branches of a
+cacuchou-tree.
+
+"Certainly, Heiss, any suggestion--"
+
+"Wal, then--thar's a town," the sergeant lifted one of the leafy
+boughs and pointed toward the south-east--a spire and cross--a white
+wall and the roofs of some cottages were seen over the trees. "Raoul
+here, who's French, and knows the place, says it's Madalin--he's been
+to it--and there's no good road for horses direct from here--but the
+road from Vera Cruz crosses that meadow far up--now, lieutenant, it's
+my opinion them thieving Mexicans is bound for that 'ere place--Raoul
+says it's a good sweep round--if we could git acrosst this yere strip
+we'd head 'em sure."
+
+The backwoodsman swept his broad hand toward the south, to indicate
+the strip of woods that he desired to cross. The plan seemed feasible
+enough. The town, although seemingly near, was over five miles
+distant. The road by which the guerrilleros had to reach it was much
+farther. Could Rolfe and his party meet them on this road, by an
+ambuscade, they would gain an easy victory, although with inferior
+numbers, and Rolfe wished to carry back to camp a Mexican prisoner.
+This was the object of the scout, to gain information of the force
+supposed to be in the rear of our lines. The men, too, were eager for
+the wild excitement of a fight. For what came they there?
+
+"Raoul," said Rolfe, "is there any path through these woods?"
+
+"Zar is, von road I have believe--oui--Monsieur Lieutenant."
+
+Raoul was a dapper little Frenchman, who had joined the army at Vera
+Cruz, where we found him. He had been a sort of market-gardener for
+the plaza, and knew the back country perfectly. He had fallen into bad
+odor with the rancheros of the _Tierra Caliente_, and owed them no
+good-will. The coming of the American army had been a perfect godsend
+to Raoul, who was now an American volunteer, and, as circumstances
+afterward proved, worthy of the title.
+
+"Close teecket, monsieur," continued the Frenchman, "but there be von
+road, I make ver sure, by that tree, vot you call him, big tree."
+
+Raoul pointed to some live-oaks that formed a dark belt across the
+woods.
+
+"Take the lead, Raoul."
+
+The little Frenchman sprung out in front and commenced descending into
+the dark woods beneath. The party was soon winding through the shadowy
+aisles of a live-oak forest. The woods were at first open and easy.
+After a short march they came to a small stream, bright and silvery.
+But what was the surprise of Rolfe to find that the path here gave
+out, and on the opposite bank of the rivulet the trees grew closer
+together, and the woods were almost woven into a solid mass, by the
+lianas and other creeping plants. These were covered with blossoms. In
+some places a wall of snow-white flowers rose up before you. Pyramidal
+forms of foliage, green and yellow, over which hung myriads of
+vine-blossoms, like a scarlet mantle. Still there was no path--at
+least to be trodden by human foot. Birds flew around, scared in their
+solitary haunts. The armadilla and the wolf stood at a distance with
+glaring eyes. The fearful-looking guana scampered off upon the
+decaying limbs of the live-oak, or the still more fearful cobra di
+capella glided almost noiselessly over the dry leaves and brambles.
+
+Raoul confessed that he had been deceived. He had never traveled this
+belt of timber. The path was lost.
+
+This was strange. A path had conducted them thus far, but on reaching
+the stream had suddenly stopped. Soldiers went up and down the
+water-course, and peeped through the trellis of vines, but to no
+purpose. In all directions they were met by an impenetrable chapparal.
+
+Chafing with disappointment, the young officer was about to retrace
+his way, when an exclamation from Heiss recalled him. The backwoodsman
+had found a clew to the labyrinth. An opening led into the thicket.
+This had been concealed by a perfect curtain of closely woven vines,
+covered with thick foliage and flowers. It appeared at first to be a
+natural door to the avenue which led from this spot, but a slight
+examination showed that these vines had been trained by human hands,
+and that the path itself had been kept open by the same agency.
+Branches were here and there lopped off and cast aside, and the ground
+had the marks of human footsteps. The track was clear and beaten, and
+Rolfe ordering his men to follow noiselessly, in Indian file, took the
+lead. For at least two miles they traced the windings of this forest
+road, through dark woods, occasionally opening out into green flowery
+glades. The bright sky began to gleam through the trees. Farther on
+and the breaks became larger and more frequent. An extensive clearing
+was near at hand. They reached it, but to their astonishment, instead
+of a cultivated farm, which they had been expecting to see, the
+clearing had more the appearance of a vast flower-garden. The roofs
+and turrets of a house were visible near its centre. The house itself
+appeared of a strange oriental style, and was buried amidst groves of
+the brightest foliage. Several huge old trees spread their branches
+over the roof, and their leaves hung around the fantastic turrets.
+
+What should have been fields were like a succession of huge
+flower-beds--and large shrubs, covered with sheets of pink and white
+blossoms that resembled wild roses. This shrubbery was high enough to
+conceal the approach of Rolfe and his party as they followed the
+path--apparently the only one which led to the house.
+
+On nearing this, the officer halted his men in a little glade, and
+taking with him Heiss and the boy Gerry, (who might return for the men
+in case of a surprise,) proceeded to reconnoitre the strange-looking
+habitation.
+
+A wall of ivy, or some perennial vine, lay between him and the house.
+A curtain of green leaves covered the entrance through this wall. This
+appeared to have grown up by neglect. As Rolfe lifted this festoon, to
+pass through, the sound of female voices greeted him. These voices
+reached his ear in tones of the lightest mirth. At intervals came a
+clear ringing laugh from some throat of silver, and then a plunging,
+splashing sound of water. Rolfe conjectured that some females were in
+the act of bathing, and not wishing to intrude upon them sat down for
+a moment outside the wall. The sounds of merriment were still heard,
+and among the soft tones the officer imagined that he could
+distinguish the coarser voice of a man. Curiosity now prompted him to
+enter. Moreover, he reflected that if there were men there already
+there could not be much impropriety in his taking a share in the
+amusement.
+
+Drawing aside the curtain of leaves he looked in. The interior was a
+garden, but evidently in a neglected state. It appeared the ruin of a
+once noble garden and shrubbery. Broken fountains and statues
+crumbling among weeds, and untrained rose-trees, met the eye. The
+voices were more distinct, but those who uttered them were hidden by
+a hedge of jessamines. Rolfe stepped silently up to this hedge and
+peeped through an opening. The picture presented was indeed an
+enchanting one.
+
+A large fountain lay between him and the house filled with crystal
+water. In this fountain two young girls were plunging and diving about
+in the wildest abandon of mirth. The water was not more than waist
+deep, and the arms and bosoms of the young girls appeared above its
+surface. They were strikingly alike, in all except color. In this
+there was a marked contrast. The neck, arms and bosom of one seemed
+carved from snow-white marble, while the other's complexion was almost
+as dark as mahogany. There was the same cast of features, the same
+expression in both countenances, and their forms, just emerging from
+the slender figure of girlhood, were exactly alike. Their long hair
+trailed after them, black and luxuriant, on the surface of the water,
+as they plunged and swam from one side of the basin to the other. A
+huge negress sat upon the edge of the fountain, seemingly enjoying the
+bath as much as those who partook of it. It was the voice of this
+negress that Rolfe had mistaken for that of a man.
+
+The young officer did not hesitate a moment, but stole gently back and
+regained his comrades.
+
+Then striking through the flowery fields that stretched away toward
+the wood in the rear, he commenced searching for the path that led
+from the woods in a direction opposite to that whence he had come,
+without disturbing the inmates of this peaceful mansion. Finding this
+path on the other side, the party entered and hastily kept on, in
+order to intercept the guerilleros, whom they still hoped to fall in
+with. In these hopes they were not disappointed, for emerging from the
+woods near Medellin they came upon the guerilleros, with whom they had
+a sharp skirmish. Rolfe and his party were successful, killing two of
+the guerrilla and taking the same number prisoners.
+
+The young girls continued their pleasant pastime, little dreaming how
+near to them had been these strange and warlike visiters.
+
+
+
+
+I WANT TO GO HOME
+
+BY RICHARD COE, JR.
+
+
+    "I want to go home!" saith a weary child,
+      That hath lost its way in straying;
+    Ye may try in vain to calm its fears,
+    Or wipe from its eyes the blinding tears,
+      It looks in your face, still saying--
+        "I want to go home!"
+
+    "I want to go home!" saith a fair young bride,
+      In anguish of spirit praying;
+    Her chosen hath broken the silver cord--
+    Hath spoken a harsh and cruel word,
+      And she now, alas! is saying--
+        "I want to go home!"
+
+    "I want to go home!" saith the weary soul,
+      Ever earnest thus 'tis praying;
+    It weepeth a tear--heaveth a sigh--
+    And upward glanceth with streaming eye
+      To its promised rest, still saying--
+        "I want to go home!"
+
+
+
+
+THE HUMBLING OF A FAIRY.
+
+BY G. G. FOSTER.
+
+
+The Princess Dewbell was confessed to be the queen of the ball,
+notwithstanding that the beauty and grace and wit of the whole realm
+were there, for it was the birth-night festival of the fairy princess,
+and her royal father, with all a parent's fond pride, had exhausted
+invention, and impoverished extravagance, to give _eclat_ to the
+occasion. The walls of his ancestral palace were sparkled all over
+with dew-drops, which a troop of early bees had spent all the summer
+mornings in collecting and preserving in the royal patent
+dew-preserver, invented by one of the native geniuses of the realm.
+These brilliant mirrors, flashing in the light of ten thousand
+fire-flies of the royal household, whose whole lives had been expended
+in learning how to carry their dainty lamps about so as to produce the
+finest effects, reflected the forms of the ladies and the dazzling
+military trappings of the handsome cavaliers, (there was war at that
+time between the glorious empire of Fairydom and the weak and
+infatuated republic of Elfland on its southern borders, and the
+epaulette and spurs were the only pass to the hearts of the fair,)
+imbuing them with an infinitude of prismatic hues, all softened into a
+kind of timed starlight, exquisite as the dying voice of music. In
+this gorgeous saloon, at the head of which sat, well pleased, the
+benevolent old King Paterflor and his modest and still lovely queen
+Sweetbine, all were noble and accomplished and beautiful and gay; but
+the charms of the Princess Dewbell, just bursting into the richness of
+full-grown fairyhood, were so surpassing that none had ever been found
+to question, even in their own hearts, her supremacy. This, perhaps,
+may appear strange to many of my pretty readers, but they must
+remember that mine is a faithful chronicle of fairies--not of women.
+The princess was standing lightly touching--it could not be said that
+she leaned against--the slender stalk of a garden lily, that rose like
+an emerald column of classic mould above her lovely form, and expanded
+into a graceful dome of transparent and crimson-veined cornelian above
+her head. Her eyes were cast pensively (at the Musical Fund Hall it
+would have been called coquettishly) upon the ground, and ever and
+anon she tossed her proud head with an imperious gesture, until the
+streaming curls waved and parted around her cheek and neck, like
+vine-leaves about a marble column as the south wind creeps among them
+soliciting for kisses. The lady Dewbell, amid all this scene of
+enchantment, which spread out before and around her, as if her own
+loveliness had breathed it into existence, still was discontented;
+sad, perhaps, at the total absence of care in her bosom, and sighing
+for a sorrow. Unhappy lady Dewbell! She had so many hundred times been
+told, what she herself believed full well, that she was absolutely
+the most beautiful creature in existence, that the tale had lost its
+interest. The champagne of flattery, its creaming foam long ago melted
+into the brain, stood untasted before her, dull and flat as the
+subsided fountain poured by the last rain-shower into the tulip's cup.
+And so the fairy princess stood listless and apart from the joyous
+revel, her little form swaying lightly to and fro, with the
+undulations of the lily-stem against which she more perceptibly
+rested. It is well for Root and Collins and Plumbe that the royal
+daguerreotyper was laid up in a cowslip, with a broken skylight which
+he had received in a rough-and-tumble with a gnat, about the ownership
+of a particular ray of light, at last sunsetting.
+
+But if the lady Dewbell were queen of the ball, the noble knight Sir
+Timothy Lawn was as undisputedly worthy of the post of honor among her
+gallant train of admirers. Indeed, it was universally known, of course
+as a profound secret among the gossips of the palace, that Sir Timothy
+was the declared lover of the proud Dewbell, and it was even whispered
+that she had actually been seen hanging around his neck one bright
+June morning, in a sweet clover-nook by the brook-side, while he bent
+tenderly over her, his eyes filled with tears of rapture. But as this
+story could only be traced to a rough beetleherd, who said he saw the
+lovers thus as he was driving his herd of black cattle to water, it
+was not generally believed. At any rate, all the ladies were decidedly
+of opinion that Sir Timothy was in every way a match for the haughty
+beauty, and that if she did not accept him while he was in the humor
+she would be very likely to go farther and fare worse. In fact,
+several old maids and bluestockings, over their dishes of scandal and
+marsh-fog, (both of which they made uncommonly strong,) openly avowed
+it as their opinion, that he was a great deal too good for her, and
+that, if the truth must be told, the princess was an impertinent,
+saucy and irreverent creature, who hadn't the slightest respect for
+her superiors. "As to her beauty," said one of these crones, whose
+little face was very much of the size and complexion of a dried
+camomile-flower, and who was shrewdly suspected of qualifying her
+marsh-fog with pale pink-brandy--"As for her beauty, that is all in my
+eye. I have seen plenty of your plump, smooth-skinned pieces of paint
+and affectation fade in my time, little as I have yet seen of life.
+Mark my words--before we have reached our prime, my great lady
+princess will be as ugly as--"
+
+"As ugly as yourself, granny! Ha, ha, ha! ho, ho, ho! haw, haw, haw!"
+shouted a mirthful voice, while an indescribably comic face, half cat
+and half baby, appeared for a single glimpse above the burdock leaf
+behind which the spinsters were holding their _conversazione_.
+
+"There's that imp Puck again, as sure as I am a woman!" exclaimed the
+gentle Mrs. Mullenstalk, rising hastily and spilling a dish of fog all
+over the front of her new green and yellow striped grass dress, as she
+ran toward the spot whence the voice had proceeded. "I'll to the
+palace this very night, and lay my complaint against that wretch.
+We'll see whether virtuous ladies are to be insulted in this manner,
+and their helplessness trampled under foot!"
+
+The intruder had already disappeared; but as the amiable Mrs.
+Mullenstock got her spectacles adjusted, she just caught sight of him
+throwing a somerset into a pumpkin-flower; while his laugh still
+sounded faintly upon the air, mingled with snatches of a wild refrain,
+of which she could only distinguish these lines:
+
+    "Oh ho, Granny Mullenstock, how envious you be;
+     I'll plague you to death, or the hornets catch me!"
+
+The spinster shook her fist and grinned horribly at the broad-mouthed,
+innocent yellow flower, down whose throat the varlet had leaped--but
+chancing at that moment to catch a glimpse of her own face in a little
+bit of mica, which served her for a toilet-mirror, she uttered the
+least bit of a little shriek in the world and fainted--her companions,
+who had by this time gathered round her, exchanging sly winks and
+malicious looks of gratification as she went off.
+
+But we must return to the ball-room, where the fire-flies have got
+sleepy, and many of them had already put out their lamps and retired,
+and the brilliant company of dancers and promenaders has dwindled down
+to a few sets, composed of those ladies who had not been asked to
+dance in the height of the evening, and some sour-looking gentlemen in
+very tight coats and pants, who had "got the mitten" from their
+sweethearts at the door, and were desperately trying to do the amiable
+out of sheer revenge. At length even these disappeared; the saloons
+were entirely deserted, save by the beautiful mother moonbeam, who
+slept upon the fragrant turf, her babe, the silver starlight, folded
+lovingly within her bosom.
+
+Yet no, the scene is not quite solitary. Carefully bending aside the
+tall, slender spears of diamond-tipped grass that perpetually guarded
+the sacred domain of the imperial palace, a cavalier in full armor
+appears, making way for a lady, whose long veil of the finest spider's
+web completely conceals her head and form, making her seem like an
+exhalation, taking, as its highest gift of grace, the shape of woman.
+The two advance slowly and cautiously to the centre of the saloon, and
+then the cavalier, throwing himself on his knees, (that's the way
+fairies invariably make love,) beseeches his companion to have pity
+upon him. The lady throws back her veil with a motion of indescribable
+grace, and looking down into the upturned face of her lover, seriously
+a moment, then lightly, utters a low laugh, and replies,
+
+"Very well, Sir Timothy Lawn, upon my word! Quite prettily done,
+indeed! You must have been taking lessons of Signor Sweetbriar, the
+royal parson. Now do run and bring me a glass of geranium-dew--I
+protest I have drank scarcely a drop all the evening."
+
+"Not one word, then, for your poor lover and true knight," sighed Sir
+Timothy, in a tone of the deepest despondence.
+
+"I did not come here to listen to school-boy nonsense," said the lady
+Dewbell, with a haughty and impatient motion of the head. "I came to
+get a glass of geranium-water. But, as you decline obliging me to that
+extent, I suppose I must e'en get it for myself. Good-night to you,
+Sir Timothy! Pleasant dreams!" and she disappeared.
+
+The knight was for a moment confounded; then rising slowly, he pointed
+to a bright star that shone directly above him, winking and winking
+with all its might, as much as to say, "what a green-horn you are!"
+and swore an oath that no fairy should ever henceforth have power over
+his heart, till she who had so wantonly scorned and insulted him
+should beg to be forgiven. As he was turning sadly away, to seek his
+solitary chamber in the upper branch of a bachelor's button, on the
+other side of the brook, the elf-clown Puck stood before him, looking
+as demure as puss herself.
+
+"Well, fool," said the knight, somewhat impatiently, "how long hast
+thou been listening here?"
+
+"As long as my ears, your worship," replied the urchin, undauntedly,
+"and they were long enough to hear that your worship's valiancy is a
+very much over-praised commodity--since a maiden's dainty veil of
+knitted night-air has proved too strong for him.
+
+    The knight he sued, and the knight he sighed,
+    But he went away without supper or bride."
+
+"Silence, imp! or I 'll make thine ears, of which thou hast had such
+pestilent service, shorter by a span."
+
+"No, I thank your valiancy! my ears do very well as they are. And I
+came to do you a good turn by offering you the use of them. But as
+your worship is so high and dry in Dundrum Bay, as we say at sea, I'll
+e'en get back to my nap in the hazle copse again."
+
+"Nay, good Puck, I meant thee no harm, as thou knowest well enough.
+Since thou knowest my innermost grief, let me hear thy fool's advice
+in the matter."
+
+"If I gave thee advice, I were in truth a fool. But I'll very
+willingly forgive thee this time, and tell thee what I overheard
+to-night at the palace."
+
+"Ah, that's a good Puck!"
+
+"That depends on circumstances, your valiancy. I am somewhat like a
+dish of toasted gallinippers--whether it is palatable or not depending
+very much in the way it is served. But this is what I heard his
+majesty say to her majesty. 'Sweetbine, my dear,' said he, 'don't you
+think Dewbell has a fancy for our brave and noble knight, Sir Timothy
+Lawn?' 'Why, my love,' replied her majesty, 'I have long been almost
+certain that she loved him. But she is such a confirmed flirt I am
+afraid she can never be brought to say so. I haven't the least idea
+that she would not reject Sir Timothy, were he to propose.' 'We must
+cure her of this fatal pride and folly,' replied his majesty, 'and I
+think that, with a little of your assistance, I can manage it
+capitally.' And then the dear old people passed into the royal
+bed-chamber, in the japonica wing, and I heard no more."
+
+"I'll to the king."
+
+"And I'll to a better friend than he; if you permit me, your worship,
+I take my _bough_ and _leave_."
+
+"Avaunt, vile punning Puck! Thou hast been to Philadelphia, where all
+the streets rhyme, and every corner is a pun upon the next. May the
+fiend unquip thee! Away!'
+
+"If thou I kest not jokes, thou hadst best stick to thy
+bachelor's-buttonhood. I tell thee, marriage is a capital joke."
+
+"What knowest thou of marriage?"
+
+"I am one of its fruits."
+
+"A bitter jest, indeed, and plucked ere half ripened. St. Bulwer! but
+thou wilt be a mother's blessing when thou art fully grown!"
+
+"Better save thy wits, sir knight! Thou wilt have a plentiful lack of
+them ere the honeymoon be out of the comb. A pleasant roost in thy
+bachelor's hall, and many of them!" and the vagabond sprung upon the
+back of a green lizard creeping silently through the grass, and
+sticking his heels into his astonished charger, dragoon-fashion,
+disappeared down the bank of the brook.
+
+The old king and his good wife, Sweetbine, were very much grieved at
+the foolish trifling of their daughter, Dewbell--for they were well
+assured that Dewbell loved the noble knight, Sir Timothy, and that it
+was only a spirit of mere wantonness that led her to vex and torment
+him. Long into the night did the royal couple converse, striving to
+devise some means of bringing their wayward daughter to her senses.
+They at last hit upon a plan, which they fondly hoped might be the
+means of securing the happiness of their child, and settling her
+comfortably in life.
+
+The next morning his majesty sent for the dwarf, Puck, to his private
+cabinet, and received him with an unusually grave and troubled aspect.
+
+"Venerable sire," said Puck, making a mock reverence, and scarcely
+able to suppress a chuckle at the solemn looks of his master, "what
+facetious dream hath been playing its mad pranks about thy sacred
+pillow? Never saw I kingly face so mirthfully beprankt."
+
+"Come hither, good Puck," said the king, patiently, "and when thou
+hast made thy breakfast of fun upon thy poor master, listen to him
+seriously."
+
+"Dear prince", said the dwarf, suddenly running up to the king and
+casting himself weeping at his feet, "art thou, then, really troubled?
+Forgive thy poor slave!" and he began blubbering in the most pitiable
+manner, while he looked up into the face of the king with such a look
+of wo-begone and ludicrous despair, that Paterflor himself could
+scarce refrain from bursting into laughter.
+
+"Thou hast done nothing wrong, good Puck--handsome Puck," said the
+king, chucking his favorite under the chin. "I have need of thee.
+Here is my signet-ring. Bring me straight hither a young and handsome
+peasant, one who has never been seen by the court, nor any inhabitant
+of the palace. He must be intelligent, conscientious, and trustworthy.
+Dost thou know of such a one?"
+
+"Yes, your majesty, I think I do. My friend, young Paudeen O'Rafferty,
+the son of the old forest-keeper, has just returned from Ireland,
+where he was carried by the fairies at his christening, and has been
+kept ever since until now, trying to get through the rent made by Mr.
+O'Connell in the pockets of his relatives. He's as tight an Irish lad
+as your majesty ever saw; and as for his honesty, I'll endorse it with
+both hands. The O'Raffertys are constitutionally honest."
+
+"Well, bring him hither at once. I shall be ready to receive him."
+
+Puck, with his funny face entirely restored to good humor, left the
+palace by a private gate, and running across a beautiful meadow,
+disappeared in the dark green forest. Idle lingerer as he was, he felt
+a strong inclination, at every hazel-copse he passed, to stop and have
+a chat with the rabbits he knew were hid beneath it; and more than
+once he was on the point of running up to a friendly deer and kissing
+his cold, black nose, just for auld lang syne. But, for a wonder, he
+was constant to his errand, and ran straight on--not stopping even to
+throw stones at a squirrel by the way--till he came to the forester's
+hut.
+
+He found the old forester and his wife alone. They received him
+kindly, for, notwithstanding his mad pranks, Puck was a favorite every
+where, and especially among the poor and humble, who were always safe
+from his mischievous propensities. The young Paudeen was out a little
+bit in the forest, but would return directly.
+
+"And what brings good Master Puck from among the great lords and
+beautiful ladies of the coort to our poor little shieling, not bigger
+nor betther than the mud cabins of ould Ireland itself?" inquired the
+old woman, who had grown, with age and toil, wrinkled deaf and sour.
+
+"I'll explain all that as soon as Paudeen comes home," replied the
+grave and mysterious Puck; "but, in the meantime, how do you get on
+Mr. O'Rafferty, and what is the news in the forest?"
+
+"We get on but poorly," said the old forester, "and the news is, that
+the people at the other side of the forest, where the potatoes have
+all rotted, and the land is wore down to its bare bones, for want of
+rest like, are very bad. Some of the women and childhers have already
+starved, and the men have for the most part took to dhrinken and
+fighten, till things is in a mighty bad way."
+
+"Yes," chimed in the old woman, who seemed to have caught by instinct
+the subject of conversation, "and the poor stharven people say, too,
+that there is plenty of money squandhered upon extravagance by the
+king and his coort to give them all bread; and that the forests that
+is kept for the deers and craythurs to be killed for the spoort of the
+big folks, would give every man a bit of fresh land, and that the
+potatoes would grow well enough then."
+
+"Auch, Peggy, will ye have us hung for parjery, out and out!"
+exclaimed the terrified husband, casting a deprecating look at Puck.
+"Poor craythur, she doesn't know what she is saying."
+
+At this juncture the young Paudeen made his appearance, and put a stop
+to a conversation that was becoming decidedly stupid. He made his
+respects cordially to Puck; and when he heard his errand, seemed
+amazed and delighted. After a good deal of difficulty, the old lady
+was made to understand what was the desire of the king.
+
+"Hooh!" exclaimed the old crone, leaping from her seat and dancing
+about the room, "the dhrame's come true at last! Och, hullybaloo!
+didn't I know that the pretty Paudeen wasn't born for the pig-stye!
+Bedad, but he'll ruffle the gentles! Wont you, darlint?" and the old
+woman fell upon her son's neck, smothering him with kisses, while the
+poor youth could hardly keep his legs under the vigor of her maternal
+caresses.
+
+
+PART II.
+
+In a few days after the interview of Puck and Paudeen in the hut of
+the forester, there was great excitement at the court of Fairyland.
+The fashionable milliners and dress-makers never had seen such a
+time--orders from the aristocracy poured in upon them by scores, and
+their doors were beset by fashionable carriages, and little fairy
+footmen caparisoned in long coats with many capes, and broad, red
+bands fastened with shining buckles round their hats. The great
+_artistes_ who were at the head of these establishments saw themselves
+amassing fortunes from the sudden influx of fashionable custom. But
+the poor little fairy seamstresses, who sat up all night, sometimes
+without time to eat or sleep, from sunset to sunset, so that all these
+splendid dresses might be finished in time--they did not fare so well.
+They grew pale and sick, and sat swaying and swinging about as they
+worked, until one might have thought them the ghosts of fairy workers,
+come back for a ghostly midnight frolic in their old haunts. It was
+melancholy enough, truly; but then nobody knew any thing about it. The
+rich ladies, when their splendid robes came home, did not stop to
+think that good, earnest, faithful fairy hearts had embroidered the
+roses that adorned the skirts from their own cheeks, and spangled them
+with the broken fragments of their youth's faded dreams. If they had--
+
+Well, and if they had?
+
+That is not at all to the purport of my story; and so I will proceed
+to let the reader into the secret of all this flutter and fluster. A
+great prince had made his appearance at the court of Paterflor, and
+had created almost as great an excitement in Fairyland as a new prima
+donna with bright eyes and a _sfogato_ voice among mere mortals.
+Nobody knew exactly who he was, but he came from a great way off, and
+had a name as long as a province, and, beside being incalculably
+wealthy, it was universally voted (ladies vote in Fairyland) that he
+was the very handsomest love of a fairy knight that ever jingled
+spurs, or sighed at the feet of beauty. He had come to court evidently
+with the "highest recommendations" to the king, such as would have
+procured him immediate access into the first "circles," even in
+Philadelphia, where society lives behind barred doors, and goes about
+armed cap-a-pie against encroachment or intrusion. He had been at once
+received at the royal table, and a splendid suite of apartments had
+been assigned him in the palace itself. Such extraordinary attentions
+from the imperial family, of course, made the stranger a favorite and
+a welcome guest wherever he appeared; and there was not a lady at
+court who would not have given her eyes--if it would not have spoiled
+her beauty--for a smile from his magnificent mouth.
+
+It was discovered, however, at a very early stage of the proceedings,
+that the chief object of the prince's admiration was the lady Dewbell,
+who, proud as she was, could not help feeling flattered by the evident
+and special devotion of one for whom the whole of her sex were dying.
+Sir Timothy Lawn, who, from pique or melancholy, or from some unknown
+cause, had left the court the very day after the arrival of the new
+prince, was not entirely forgotten, but was laid away carefully on a
+back shelf of her heart; and the lady Dewbell never had been so
+beautiful, so fascinating, so joyous and irresistible. Courts are as
+fickle as coquettes; and before the month had passed, in a series of
+brilliant _fetes_ and entertainments, at all of which the prince and
+princess were the reigning toast, it was regarded as a settled thing
+that there would, ere the maple leaves grew red in the dying gaze of
+the year, be a royal marriage in Fairyland.
+
+But while to all around the beautiful Dewbell was ever the same
+careless, saucy and happy creature as ever, in her heart she nursed a
+bitter sorrow. After many and severe struggles, she was forced at last
+to make to herself the humiliating acknowledgment that she deeply and
+truly loved Sir Timothy Lawn, that noble and chivalric spirit, whom
+her unworthy trifling had driven--so her frightened heart interpreted
+it--in disgust from her. Compelled in common courtesy to receive the
+devoted attentions of the stranger prince, and to hear every day and
+every hour repeated the earnest solicitations of her father that she
+should school herself to regard the stranger as her future husband,
+her little fairy heart was quite broken with its ceaseless struggles.
+Her pride and self-will were entirely vanquished, and she felt herself
+truly the most miserable of fairy maidens. Suicide is of course a
+thing strictly prohibited among immortals; but had it been otherwise,
+I sadly fear that one of the lady Dewbell's spider-web silk hose would
+some morning have been found without a garter, and she herself hanging
+like a beauteous exhalation among the elm-leaves in the morning
+sunshine. Oh, had Sir Timothy been there then, he would have found,
+instead of his imperious and tantalizing coquette, the tenderest and
+truest of disconsolate maidens, ready to melt into his arms between
+the delicious pause of a sigh and a kiss. "Naughty, cruel Sir Timothy!
+Horrid creature! to take all my nonsense for real earnest, and to go
+away and leave me to be persecuted to death!" exclaimed the lady
+Dewbell, with an uncontrollable burst of tears, as she threw herself,
+her toilet half finished, and her hair all strewn over her face and
+shoulders, upon her little praying cushion. "What will become of poor
+Bell!"
+
+"What ails my daughter?" said the sweet, soft voice of the queen
+mother, as she knelt tenderly over her child, and pressed her head to
+her bosom. "Tell your sorrows to your mother."
+
+"Oh, mother, _I_ am the most wretched fairy that ever existed. I don't
+want to marry that odious, red-haired stranger; and my father has made
+me promise that the wedding shall take place on Halloween--and I--I
+have consented. But I love Sir Timothy; and I wont marry any body but
+him," sobbed the poor creature, convulsively, as she cast herself upon
+the floor, and looked up to her mother, terrified and half frantic.
+
+"But, dearest, you know you laughed at poor Sir Timothy's vows--and he
+is so sensitive."
+
+"Oh, yes, I know I did, but I'll never do so any more. _If_ Sir
+Timothy will only come back and forgive me, and marry me, just this
+once, I will never, never offend him again as long as I live--never,
+never, never! Do, mamma, do make him come back!"
+
+"Poor child! I will certainly do all I can. But you have promised to
+be married on Halloween."
+
+"Oh, yes, but that is a good fortnight off, and you can bring Sir
+Timothy back before then, you know, and he can kill this horrid
+stranger, and then every body will be _so_ happy!" and the face of the
+volatile creature began already to re-clothe itself in smiles.
+
+"I fear you are mistaken, love," said her mother, solemnly, and
+shaking her head in an impressive manner, she added, "do not deceive
+yourself with such fallacies, my daughter; your princely word is
+passed, your father's royal honor is pledged, and you must be married
+on Halloween."
+
+The lady Dewbell, sobbing hysterically, again looked up. She was
+alone; at the same moment the cat-and-baby face of Puck glanced by the
+window, and a wild, mischievous laugh melted away into a song, of
+which the lady only caught the two last lines:
+
+    "He rideth fast, and he rideth well,
+     But his heart still clings to the pretty Bell."
+
+"Oh, bless thee, dear Puck!" sighed the haply wondering lady, rising
+and leaning from the window. "May thy sweet prophecy come true!"
+
+
+PART III.
+
+'T is Halloween midnight. Through the tall windows of the venerable
+church streamed in the broad moonlight, in bright silver floods, that
+lost themselves in the profound recesses of the distant aisles, or
+fell like many-colored snow-flakes upon the marble floor. Entering
+without sound, came up the middle aisle the royal wedding-procession.
+First walked the father, the royal Paterflor, looking stern and
+determined, yet, it must be confessed, a little roguish about the
+crowsfeet. Upon his arm leaned his pale and stricken daughter, the
+once proud, joyous and imperious Princess Dewbell. She was pale as a
+lily's cup, and drooping as its stem. She never raised her head from
+her bosom, and her eyes, once sparkling like fountains of light, were
+hidden beneath their willowy lids. Next comes the "red-haired prince,"
+as the lady Dewbell had scornfully denominated him, (his head _was_ a
+little inclined to flame, dear reader, between you and me,)
+respectfully conducting the ever sweet and placid Queen Woodbine; and
+after them a troop of merry and gayly-dressed fairies, both ladies and
+gentlemen, but very demure and solemn; while Puck, in the united
+capacity of Hymen and Grand Usher, was dodging about with his flaming
+torch, now in front, now in rear, now here, now there, and every where
+imparting an air of grotesqueness to the whole affair.
+
+At the altar the party stopped, and ranging themselves in the approved
+order for such occasions, the priest--a grave and reverend bullfrog,
+whose surplice was scrupulously neat and tidy--proceeded with the
+ceremony. When he came to the question, "dost thou, my daughter,
+freely and voluntarily bestow thy hand and thy affections upon this
+man, Paudeen O'Rafferty, commonly called Pat?"
+
+The pale and shrinking lady raised her head and opened her great
+ox-like eyes; the bridegroom looked sheepish and hung his head; King
+Paterflor seemed suddenly troubled with a severe fit of coughing, and
+the priest could scarcely forbear a chuckle.
+
+"Father, dear father, what is the meaning of this cruel joke?"
+exclaimed the poor lady Dewbell, running to her father and catching
+hold of his arm. But the old king's cough was still very troublesome.
+She then appealed to the priest, but he seemed deaf, and only made a
+grum kind of noise in his throat, that sounded a good deal like "Pat
+O'Rafferty."
+
+"Who, then, are you, sir?" demanded she, at last, of the groom,
+turning suddenly and imperiously upon him her piercing gaze.
+
+"So plaze yer ladyship, I am Paudeen O'Rafferty, the son of the
+forester--at yer ladyship's sarvice."
+
+The fairy princess was about to faint, in the most approved manner,
+and had already selected a convenient cushion upon which to fall, when
+a tall and noble form crossed the moon-ray, and Sir Timothy Lawn stood
+before her.
+
+"Beloved princess," said he, kneeling, and respectfully taking her
+hand, "I hope my presence is not disagreeable to the queen of my
+heart, for whose love I have so long pined. Speak to me frankly, sweet
+lady Dewbell, tell me, can you love me? Will you permit me to call you
+mine forever?"
+
+The lady Dewbell changed her intention respecting the cushion upon
+which she had intended to faint, and, somehow, found herself before
+she was half conscious of it, in her lover's arms. An explanation
+ensued; the prince Paudeen gave up his post of honor to Sir Timothy;
+the ceremony was concluded on the spot; and as the gay and joyous
+party left the church, Puck was seen sitting at the organ accompanying
+himself in a sort of wild yet sweet chant, of which the lady Dewbell
+easily distinguished--
+
+    "Oh, a merry tale will the gossips tell,
+     Of the happy mishap of the proud lady Bell."
+
+
+
+
+A NIGHT THOUGHT.
+
+BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.
+
+
+      Long have I gazed upon all lovely things,
+        Until my soul was melted into song,
+      Melted with love till from its thousand springs
+        The stream of adoration, swift and strong,
+      Swept in its ardor, drowning brain and tongue,
+    Till what I most would say was borne away unsung.
+
+      The brook is silent when it mirrors most
+        Whate'er is grand or beautiful above;
+      The billow which would woo the flowery coast
+        Dies in the first expression of its love;
+      And could the bard consign to living breath
+    Feelings too deep for thought, the utterance were death!
+
+      The starless heavens at noon are a delight;
+        The clouds a wonder in their varying play,
+      And beautiful when from their mountainous height
+        The lightning's hand illumes the wall of day:--
+      The noisy storm bursts down--and passing brings
+    The rainbow poised in air on unsubstantial wings.
+
+      But most I love the melancholy night--
+        When with fixed gaze I single out a star
+      A feeling floods me with a tender light--
+        A sense of an existence from afar,
+      A life in other spheres of love and bliss,
+    Communion of true souls--a loneliness in this!
+
+      There is a sadness in the midnight sky--
+        An answering fullness in the heart and brain,
+      Which tells the spirit's vain attempt to fly
+        And occupy those distant worlds again.
+      At such an hour Death's were a loving trust,
+    If life could then depart in its contempt of dust.
+
+      It may be that this deep and longing sense
+        Is but the prophecy of life to come;
+      It may be that the soul in going hence
+        May find in some bright star its promised home;
+      And that the Eden lost forever here
+    Smiles welcome to me now from yon suspended sphere.
+
+      There is a wisdom in the light of stars,
+        A wordless lore which summons me away--
+      This ignorance belongs to earth which bars
+        The spirit in these darkened walls of clay,
+      And stifles all the soul's aspiring breath;--
+    True knowledge only dawns within the gales of Death.
+
+      Imprisoned thus, why fear we then to meet
+        The angel who shall ope the dungeon-door,
+      And break these galling fetters from our feet,
+        To lead us up from Time's benighted shore?
+      Is it for love of this dark cell of dust,
+    Which, tenantless, awakes but horror and disgust?
+
+      Long have I mused upon all lovely things;
+        But thou, oh Death! art lovelier than all;
+      Thou sheddest from thy recompensing wings
+        A glory which is hidden by the pall--
+      The excess of radiance falling from thy plume
+    Throws from the gates of Time a shadow on the tomb.
+
+
+
+
+THE BARD.
+
+BY S. ANNA LEWIS.
+
+
+    Why should my anxious heart repine
+    That Wealth and Power can ne'er be mine,
+      And Love has flown--
+    That Friendship changes as the breeze?
+    Mine is a joy unknown to these;
+      In Song's bright zone,
+    To sit by Helicon serene,
+    And hear the waves of Hippocrene
+      Lave Phoebus' throne.
+
+    Here deathless lyres the strains prolong,
+    That gush from living founts of song,
+      Without a cross;
+    Here spirits never feel the weight
+    Of Wrong, or Envy, or of Hate,
+      Or earthly loss;
+    The pomp of Pelf--the pride of Birth--
+    The gilded trappings of this earth
+      Return to dross.
+
+    Oh, ye! who would forget the ills
+    Of earth, and all the bosom fills
+      With agony!
+    Come dwell with me in Fancy's dream,
+    Beside this lovely fabled stream
+      Of minstrelsy;
+    And let its draughts celestial roll
+    Into the deep wells of thy soul
+      Eternally.
+
+    God always sets along the way
+    Of weary souls some beacon ray
+      Of light divine;
+    And only when my spirit's wings
+    Are weary in the quest of springs
+      Of Song, I pine;
+    If I could always heavenward fly,
+    And never earthward turn mine eye,
+      Bliss would be mine.
+
+
+
+
+THE WILL.
+
+BY MISS E. A. DUPUY
+
+
+PART I.
+
+    There is peace in the Night of the Early Dead--
+    It will yield to a glorious morrow! _Clarke_.
+
+Amid all the brightness and bloom which the imagination conjures up,
+when we think of the sunny islands lying within the tropics, many
+mournful associations arise and cast a sadness over the picture. Very
+few have not had within the circle of their relatives, or friends,
+some cherished one, who has vainly sought the balmy breezes of those
+favored spots, with the feverish hope that amid their loveliness Death
+would forget to launch his arrows for them.
+
+Alas! to die among strangers is usually the fate of those who are thus
+lured from their homes by a deceitful hope. There, where Nature wears
+a perpetual verdure--where the fervid sun brings forth a luxuriance of
+vegetation unknown in more northern regions, the wearied spirit sinks
+to repose, soothed, or saddened, by the glow of existence around.
+
+A spacious apartment on the southern side of a highly ornamented
+villa, opened into a magnificent garden, filled with orange-trees,
+oleanders, and many other gorgeous flowers peculiar to the climate of
+Cuba; while in the distance the sunlight gleamed upon a row of
+towering palms, whose stately columns, crowned by their verdant
+coronal, resembled the pillars of some mighty temple, which found a
+fitting canopy in the blue arch of heaven, glowing with the gorgeous
+hues of a tropical sunset.
+
+The floor of this room was inlaid with marble of different colors, and
+the couch and windows were draped with snowy lace, lightly embroidered
+at the edges, and looped with cords of blue and silver--tables with
+marble tops, supporting porcelain vases filled with flowers, were
+placed between the windows, for these ephemeral children of sunshine
+were dear to the heart of the dying one. Beside one of these stood a
+large cushioned chair, in which reclined a young man of delicate
+features and wasted form. He appeared in the last stages of his fell
+disease, and the friends who had received him beneath their roof to
+die, wondered that he should have been deluded with the hope that
+health could ever again reanimate his bowed and shrunken form. There
+was an expression of care upon his sharpened features--a feverish
+restlessness in his manner, which betrayed the spirit's unrest.
+
+At his feet sat a young girl, whose brilliant complexion and
+pale-brown hair betrayed her Saxon origin; the finely rounded figure,
+the delicately formed feet and hands, and the gracefully turned head
+and bust, were all evidences of the grade of life to which she
+belonged. She held the burning hand of the invalid between her own
+soft, cool palms, and sung in a sweet low voice an old ballad which
+told of the ancient greatness of the Saxon race. At a short distance
+from them sat an elderly lady, clad in deep mourning, and her saddened
+countenance corresponded well with her weeds.
+
+The young man made an impatient movement, and said--"Sing not to me
+England's former prowess, dear Edith. What to the dying can such
+themes be but a bitter mockery? Take your guitar, my sister, and throw
+your soul into its vibrating strings, while you sing me such a lay as
+I can fancy the angels of Heaven to be pouring forth around the throne
+of God."
+
+"Shall I sing the chants of our church, dearest Edgar?" said Edith in
+a subdued voice.
+
+"Yes--yes--they breathe peace and resignation into my restless soul.
+When I am dying, my sister, stifle your own feelings as you love me,
+and pour into my failing senses those magnificent strains. If God sees
+fit to tear me from you before I can legally provide for you and my
+beloved mother, I shall be enabled to forget the bitter truth in
+listening to your sweet voice. You promise me this, Edith?"
+
+"I do--Heaven will sustain me even then, my darling brother, and give
+me power to forget my own anguish in soothing your last moments."
+
+Edith Euston pressed his hand to her lips, and raising from the floor
+a guitar which lay beside her, she poured forth a strain of melody
+which seemed to soothe the senses of the invalid to rest. His eyes
+closed, and an expression of repose rested on his worn features.
+
+Twilight deepened over the earth--a single ray of light, from the
+reddened sky, fell through the open window upon the figure of the
+young girl, and the mother, who sat silent and abstracted, thought as
+she glanced upon her that even in a higher world her beloved Edith
+could wear no lovelier outward semblance than was now hers. There was
+an expression of elevated feeling, of pure tenderness in her upturned
+face which revealed the high and noble soul within. One fitted to
+suffer and conquer in the dark struggle which she felt awaited her.
+
+Hers were not the only eyes which contemplated that lovely picture of
+sisterly devotion upon that twilight eve. Another stood without,
+beneath the shadow of a high hedge, and gazed upon the unconscious
+musician with even deeper admiration; and his dark, expressive
+features lighted up with an emotion almost of reverence. The stars
+came forth in the translucent depths of ether; the young moon cast her
+tremulous light over the garden, yet still the intruder lingered in
+his place of concealment. Twice he put the boughs aside, as if to
+approach the room and announce his presence, but again receded, as if
+irresolute and uncertain as to the effect his presence might produce.
+
+At length all became silent. The tones of the instrument died slowly
+away, and the voice of the singer ceased to pour forth its song. The
+windows were still unclosed, for the invalid had reached that
+distressing stage in his malady, when his oppressed breathing required
+a constant circulation of free air. A lamp burning beneath an
+alabaster shade was swung from the centre of the ceiling, and its
+mellow lustre diffused a faint moonlight radiance throughout the
+apartment.
+
+With suppressed breathing the two ladies watched the sleep of the sick
+youth, and he who had so earnestly observed every movement of Edith,
+ventured to approach so near the open window that the heavy and
+interrupted respiration of young Euston was distinctly audible to him;
+while his eagle eye sought to penetrate the shadow in which his
+features reposed, that he might read upon them the ravages made by
+approaching dissolution.
+
+As he stood thus, the moonlight revealed a tall, well proportioned
+figure, clad in a suit of black, well fitted to his form. His
+prominent features and flashing black eyes were half concealed by a
+large straw hat, which was carelessly placed upon his head. As he
+gazed upon the sleeping form, his lips curled, and a strange
+expression of exultation came to his face; his eye wandered
+triumphantly to the fair brow of Edith.
+
+"Twice rejected," he muttered half audibly--"twice rejected, and with
+scorn, by yon dainty girl; now methinks my vengeance is almost within
+my grasp. I hold her future destiny in my power; for this boy _cannot_
+drag out his existence another week. Yes, Edith--to labor you have not
+been bred--to beg you will be ashamed, and he who vainly hopes that
+time will be granted him to deprive me of my inheritance, will perish
+from my path, just as he believes himself on the verge of consummating
+his hatred to me."
+
+Edith softly arose, and making a sign to her mother, glided
+noiselessly from the room by a distant window, which opened to the
+floor. The intruder hesitated a moment, and then followed her with
+light and rapid steps. The flutter of her white dress guided him to
+the retreat she had chosen, and she had scarcely thrown herself upon a
+rustic seat beneath the shelter of some orange-boughs, and given vent
+to her painfully repressed emotion, by a burst of tears, when the dark
+stranger stood before her. She started up and would have fled, but he
+spoke, and the sound of his voice seemed to bind her to the spot as by
+a spell.
+
+"Why would you fly from me, Edith?" he asked. "I come in the spirit of
+good-will to you and yours."
+
+A struggle seemed to be passing in the mind of the young girl. She
+wiped her tears away, and after a pause answered in a tone which
+faltered at first, but grew firm, and even haughty as she proceeded,
+
+"What has brought you hither, Mr. Barclay? Yet why do I ask? To exult
+in the fate of your unfortunate victim; to watch each painful breath
+which brings him nearer to his grave, with the certainty that the
+very eagerness with which he desires a few more days of existence,
+that he may fulfill a sacred duty, is fast wearing away the faint
+thread that yet binds him to life. Oh false, unfeeling man! depart, I
+pray you, if one human instinct yet remains within your callous heart,
+and leave my unhappy brother to die in peace."
+
+She turned to depart, but Barclay stepped forward and placed his hand
+on her arm, as if to detain her. She shrunk from his touch with an
+expression of loathing, which called the crimson to his cheek, but he
+suppressed his emotion, and said calmly--
+
+"I knew that you would soon need a protector, Miss Euston, and I came
+hither with the faint hope that I might be able to overcome your cruel
+prejudices against me--that I might become to you a friend at least,
+if no dearer title were allowed me."
+
+"You a friend to _me_!" exclaimed Edith impetuously. "You, who lured
+my brother from his home, to wreck his existence in the life of
+dissipation to which you tempted him. Ever feeble from his boyhood,
+you knew that little was needed to destroy his frail constitution--yet,
+because he stood between you and the possession of wealth, his life
+was offered as the sacrifice to your criminal cupidity. And now you
+come hither to watch the last fluttering throes of existence, fearful
+that Death may delay his arrows until he shall have passed that hour
+which entitles him to dispose of his property--and disappoint your
+hopes, by bequeathing his wealth to those who are dearest to him."
+
+"You are excited, Edith. You judge me too severely. Edgar's own
+headlong passions destroyed him. I merely urged him to do as others of
+his years and station, without foreseeing such fatal results. My love
+for you would have prompted me to save your brother."
+
+"Speak not to me of love--dare not approach the sister of your victim
+with proffers of affection. The death of Edgar may leave me
+penniless--nearly friendless--I have been tenderly nurtured, but I
+would sooner embrace a life of sternest self-denial, of utter poverty,
+than link myself with infamy in your person. Leave me--and dare not
+approach the room of my brother, to imbitter his last hours by your
+presence."
+
+"And your mother, my fair heroine?" said Barclay, in a tone of sarcasm
+bordering on contempt. "What will become of her if you persist in the
+rejection of the only person in the wide world on whom you have any
+claim? She is old, feeble, broken in health and spirit. Ah! will not
+your proud heart faint when you behold her sharing this life of
+poverty and self-denial, which seems to you so much more attractive
+than the home and protection I offer you?"
+
+Edith stifled the tears that sprung anew to her eyes, and after a
+brief struggle said with composure--
+
+"My mother is too honorable--she has too bitter a disdain of meanness
+ever to wish her child to sacrifice the truth and integrity of her
+soul, by accepting the hand of one for whom she has no respect."
+
+"By Heaven!" said Barclay passionately, "you force me to throw away
+the scabbard and declare war to the knife. Be it so, then. Yonder weak
+boy cannot survive five of the ten days yet required to complete his
+majority. Then comes to me--yes to _me_--all his wealth; and only as
+_my_ wife shall one ray of my prosperity shine upon you. The gray
+hairs of your only parent may be brought to the grave by want and
+sorrow, and unless you relent toward me my heart shall be steeled to
+her sufferings."
+
+At this picture, which was only too likely to be realized, the courage
+of the unhappy Edith forsook her, and she exclaimed in faltering
+tones--
+
+"My dear, dear mother! for her sake any other sacrifice might be
+borne--but not this--not this. My brother yet lives, and Heaven may in
+pity prolong his existence beyond the hour he so anxiously prays to
+see. Then we escape your power."
+
+Barclay laughed mockingly.
+
+"This is the fifteenth, and he is not of age until the twenty-fifth,
+exactly at the second hour of the morning. One moment only before that
+time should Death claim his victim the estate is mine, and you
+dependent on my bounty. Think you that the frail and wasted ghost of a
+man who struggles for breath in yonder room can live through another
+week? Hope--yes, hope for the best, for despair will come soon enough.
+I feel as secure of my inheritance as though it were already mine."
+
+Edith proudly motioned him from her path, and fled toward the house,
+with his mocking words still ringing in her ears. Her brother yet
+slept, and as she gazed upon his sunken features it seemed to her as
+if death were already stamped upon them, and she bent her head above
+his still face, to convince herself that he yet breathed.
+
+Barclay and Euston were distantly related, and had both been educated
+by an eccentric kinsman, with the belief among their connections that
+he designed dividing his ample fortune between them. To the surprise
+and chagrin of Barclay, he found on the death of Colonel Euston that
+the whole of his estate was bequeathed to his young cousin, encumbered
+with an annuity to himself, which appeared to one of his expensive
+tastes, and lavish prodigality, as absolute poverty.
+
+Edgar Euston was then but seventeen years of age, and of a delicate
+bodily organization, which did not promise length of days. A clause in
+Colonel Euston's will offered a temptation to Barclay, which he had
+not sufficient principle to resist. If Euston died before attaining
+his majority the estate was to pass into the hands of his kinsman, and
+no mention was made of the mother or sister of the young heir. Barclay
+reflected that if he could remove Euston from his path, before he
+attained his twenty-first year, the coveted wealth would yet be his.
+
+From that hour he made every effort to win the confidence and
+affection of young Euston. He was his senior by nearly ten years, and
+possessed a knowledge of the world, and a fascination of manner which
+was extremely attractive to a youth who had passed the greater portion
+of his life, at a country residence, in the society of his mother and
+sister. Euston entered one of our Northern colleges, and under the
+auspices of his kinsman he soon achieved a reputation which was far
+more applauded by the wild students than agreeable to the professors.
+He blindly followed wherever Barclay led, and before he entered his
+twenty-first year he returned to his early home, with a constitution
+completely broken by the reckless life he had led, and the symptoms of
+early decay in his flushed cheek and hollow cough. Vain had been the
+entreaties and remonstrances of his mother and sister; under the
+influence of his tempter, they were utterly disregarded--until the
+hand of disease was laid upon him, and he felt that the only atonement
+he could offer for all the suffering he had inflicted upon them would
+probably be denied to him.
+
+He earnestly desired to live, that he might reach that age which would
+entitle him to make a legal transfer of his property to those who were
+deservedly dear to him, for in the event of his death without a will,
+his mother and sister would be left entirely dependent on the tender
+mercies of his successor. An unfortunate lawsuit had deprived his
+mother of the property which had become hers on the death of his
+father, and his own reckless extravagance had dissipated more than the
+annual revenue of his own property since it came into his possession.
+
+Too late he discovered the baseness of Barclay's motives, and
+renounced all intercourse with him--but he would not thus be cast off.
+He had seen and loved the noble-hearted Edith, and he forced his
+hypocritical offers of service upon the afflicted family, until Edith
+distinctly assured him that he need never hope for a return to his
+passion.
+
+Euston had long since abandoned all hope of recovery, but he sought
+the mild climate of Cuba, trusting that the fatal day might be
+deferred until he had secured independence to his family, but his
+physician feared that the very eagerness of his wishes would
+eventually defeat them. It was mournful, and deeply touching, to
+witness that clinging to existence in one so young, not from love of
+life itself, but from a desire to perform an act of justice. That
+completed, his mission on earth was ended, and Death might claim him
+without a murmur.
+
+The hours dragged heavily on toward the desired day, and each one as
+it passed appeared to hurry the poor invalid with rapid strides toward
+the grave, that seemed eager to claim its prey. Barclay had not again
+ventured to intrude on Edith, but he nightly hovered around the room
+of the dying youth, and gloated on the wasted and death-like form
+which held his earthly fortunes in his hands.
+
+A skillful physician had accompanied Euston from his native land, and
+his unremitting attention, aided by the tender nursing of his
+affectionate sister, seemed as if they would eventually reap their
+reward in the preservation of life beyond the hour of his majority.
+
+In pain and weariness time slowly waned, but it still left him life
+and an unclouded mind; and the bold, bad heart, that nightly watched
+him, feared that the wealth he so ardently coveted, might yet elude
+his grasp.
+
+The evening of the twenty-fifth at last arrived. Euston reclined in
+his chair as we first beheld him, wrapped in a brocade dressing-gown,
+whose brilliant colors made his extreme pallor the more remarkable; a
+table was drawn close beside him, and on it, at his own desire, was
+placed his repeater, from which his eyes scarcely wandered. His breath
+came slowly and gaspingly, and at brief intervals his physician
+moistened his parched lips with a restorative cordial, and murmured
+words of encouragement in his ear.
+
+As before, Edith sat at his feet, with her guitar, ready to stifle her
+deep emotion, and fulfill her promise to sing to him while his parting
+soul was struggling for release from its earthly tenement. His mother
+leaned over his chair, and bathed his cold brow with her burning
+tears; in the back-ground sat a clergyman, gazing on the scene with
+absorbing interest.
+
+Each one in that hushed room felt the approach of the stern tyrant,
+and all prayed fervently that his dart might be stayed yet a few
+hours.
+
+"My sister, sing to me. Soothe me into quietness by the loved tones of
+your voice. It is my _only_ hope for life beyond the desired hour,"
+murmured the dying youth.
+
+With tremulous fingers Edith touched the chords, and poured forth the
+solemn strains to which he loved to listen, and he sunk back and
+closed his eyes. At first her voice faltered, but she gradually
+regained her self-command, and never had those clear, rich tones
+uttered a sweeter strain, than that which floated around the
+fluttering spirit, which struggled to release itself from the
+attenuated form of the early doomed.
+
+Barclay stood without, watching the scene with breathless interest,
+and a terrible struggle was passing in his dark and stormy soul.
+Euston might live beyond the hour of two, and he would then be a
+beggar. His eye wandered toward Edith, so nobly devoted, so purely
+beautiful; and the tempter whispered,
+
+"She might save you--ennoble you; the love, the sweet influence of
+such a woman are all powerful. Once yours, you could surround her with
+such an atmosphere of care and tenderness, that her heart must be won
+to love you--to forget the past. Without her, you are doomed--doomed.
+What matters a few more moments of existence to one like him, when the
+eternal welfare of a human being hangs trembling in the balance?
+Deprived of the means of living, Edith will have no choice--she must
+marry you, or debase her pride of soul before the iron sway of
+poverty. Her mother is old--infirm; and for her sake, the daughter
+will listen to your proffers of love. Take your destiny into your own
+hands. Cowardly soul! why falter now? It is but completing your own
+work. He is _your_ victim--you know it, and feel it in every pulse of
+your throbbing heart. Years of usefulness might have been his, but for
+you; then complete the sacrifice without hesitation. What avails it
+to have accomplished so much, if the reward escapes you at the last
+moment?"
+
+Such were the wild thoughts that oppressed his soul during those
+terrible hours. He saw that the parchment which disinherited him was
+placed beside Euston, and the pen stood in the inkstand, ready to do
+its service, so soon as the hand of the watch pointed to the hour of
+two; and he ground his teeth in impotent rage, as the moments flitted
+by, and Euston yet continued to breathe.
+
+Terrible is the watch of love beside the flitting soul which parts in
+peace; but how much more awful was that vigil, in which the anguish of
+bereavement was doubly embittered by the fear of future want to those
+who had been reared amid all the refinements of luxury. The mother
+looked upon her remaining child, and felt that she was not formed to
+struggle with poverty and neglect, and the daughter bent her earful
+eyes on that venerable form, and in the depths of her soul, prayed
+that her old age might be spared the grinding cares of want.
+
+The watch struck the half hour--then the quarter--and a feeble motion
+of Euston stopped the hand of Edith as she swept it over the strings
+of her instrument. She arose and stood beside him; a breathless
+silence reigned throughout the apartment, only broken by the
+monotonous ticking of the watch, which struck upon the excited nerves
+of those around with a sound as distinct as the reverberations of
+thunder.
+
+Not a word was uttered until the hand pointed to the hour, then, as if
+endued with sudden energy, the dying man stretched forth his hand, and
+grasping the pen, said in a firm, distinct voice,
+
+"Now let me sign my name, and yield up my spirit to the angel that has
+been beckoning me away for hours. My mother--my sister, God has
+vouchsafed to me a mercy I did not deserve. Thank Heaven! your
+interests are safe. You are free from _his_ power."
+
+At that instant a strange cry was heard; a bird flew into the room,
+and, dazzled by the light, flapped his wings against the shade of the
+lamp, overturned it, and left the apartment in utter darkness. In the
+confusion of the moment, a figure glided through the open window, and
+stood beside the chair of Euston. He noiselessly placed his firm grasp
+upon his laboring breast, and held it there a single instant. A faint
+rattling sound was heard, and Edith wildly called for lights.
+
+Noiselessly as he had entered glided that dark form from the side of
+his victim, and buried itself in the shadows of the trees without.
+Many lights flashed into the room--they glared coldly on the face of
+the dead, and the mother sunk senseless in the arms of her daughter.
+
+
+PART II.
+
+Several months have passed away, and Mrs. Euston and her daughter have
+returned to their native land. A single room in an obscure
+boarding-house in the heart of a southern city was occupied by both.
+The expenses of their voyage to New Orleans, and a few months sojourn
+in their present abode, humble as it was, had nearly exhausted their
+slender resources. Edith had made many efforts to procure a few
+scholars to instruct in music and drawing, but the departure of the
+greater portion of the wealthy, during the unhealthy season, had
+deprived her of those she had been able to obtain. She thought of
+going out as a daily governess, but the feeble health and deep
+dejection of her mother, offered an insuperable objection to such an
+arrangement. When she left her alone even for an hour, she usually
+found her in such a state of nervous excitement on her return, as was
+painful to behold.
+
+Edith is seated near the only window of their sordid apartment in the
+afternoon of a sultry summer day; the sun is shining without with
+overpowering splendor; a heated vapor rises from the paved streets and
+seems to shimmer in the breathless atmosphere. Edith had lost all the
+freshness and roundness of youth; her cheek was deadly white, and her
+emaciated form seemed to indicate the approach of the terrible disease
+of which her brother had died. She was sewing industriously, and her
+air of weariness and lassitude betrayed the strong mastery of the
+spirit over the body, in the continuance of her employment.
+
+Mrs. Euston was lying on the bed; and twenty years seemed to have
+passed over her since the night of her son's death. The oppressive
+heat had induced her to remove her cap, and her long hair, white as
+the snows of winter, lay around her wasted and furrowed features. From
+infancy the respect and observance due to one of high station had been
+bestowed upon her, and the reverse in their fortunes was more than she
+could bear. At first, her high-toned feelings had shrunk from
+obligations to the new heir, and she approved of Edith's rejection;
+but as time passed, amid privations to which she had never been
+accustomed, her very soul revolted against their miserable mode of
+living.
+
+To a woman of refined feelings and vivid imagination, the coarse and
+sordid realities around her were sufficiently heart-sickening, without
+having the terrible fear forced upon her that her only child was
+hurrying to the grave through her exertions to keep them literally
+from starvation. Her daughter now thought she slept, but her mind was
+far too busily occupied to permit the sweet influences of slumber to
+soothe her into a momentary forgetfulness of her bitter grief.
+Suddenly she unclosed her eyes, and spoke.
+
+"Edith, my child, lay aside that work--such constant employment is
+destroying you. Is it not time that we heard from Robert Barclay?
+Surely he will not be relentless, when he hears that your health is
+failing. After all, Edith, you need not be so averse to receiving
+assistance from him; the property he holds is rightfully ours."
+
+"Mother," replied Edith, a faint flush mounting to her cheek, "for
+your sake I have submitted to humiliate myself before our ruthless
+kinsman, but I fear it will be in vain. Only as his wife will my
+claims on his humanity and justice be acknowledged. Would you not
+shrink, dearest mother, from condemning your child to such a doom?
+Could you not better bear to stand above my grave, and know me at
+peace within it, than to behold me wedded to this unprincipled man, to
+whose pernicious example my brother owed his early doom?"
+
+"Speak not of dying, my daughter," said the poor mother, hysterically,
+"I cannot bear it; I am haunted by the fear that I shall at last be
+left on earth alone. I daily behold you fading before my eyes without
+the power to avert the fate I see written upon your pale cheek and
+wasted form. As Robert's wife you would have a luxurious home, the
+means of gratifying refined tastes, and of contributing to the
+happiness of others. He may atone to me, by the preservation of one
+child, for the destruction of the other."
+
+"Mother, your fears for me blind you to the truth. Are not mental
+griefs far more difficult to bear than the privations of poverty,
+galling as they are? As Mr. Barclay's wife, I should loathe myself for
+the hypocrisy I should be compelled to practice toward him; and the
+wealth for which I had sold myself, would allow me leisure to brood
+over my own unworthiness, until madness might be the result. No, no,
+mother--come what may, I never can be so untrue to myself as to become
+the wife of Robert Barclay."
+
+"God help us, then!" said Mrs. Euston, despondingly.
+
+A carriage drove to the door, and a gentleman alighted from it. Edith
+heard the bustle, but she did not look out to see what occasioned it,
+and she was startled from her painful reverie by a knock on the door.
+She opened it, and started back with a faint cry as she recognized
+Barclay.
+
+"The landlady told me to come up," he said, as he glanced around the
+wretched apartment, and a slight twinge of remorse touched his heart
+as he remarked the changed appearance of Edith. She motioned him to
+enter, while Mrs. Euston arose from the bed, and offered him a seat.
+
+"I concluded it would be best to reply to your communication in
+person," said he to Mrs. Euston, as he took the offered chair. "I come
+with the most liberal intentions, provided Miss Euston will listen to
+reason. I am grieved to see you in a place so unsuited to your former
+station as this wretched apartment."
+
+"And yet," said Edith, "I have passed some pleasant hours in this
+room, comfortless as it looks. So long as I had the hope of being able
+to provide for our wants by my own exertions, I found contentment in
+its humble shelter."
+
+"Your happiness must then be truly independent of outward
+circumstances," replied Barclay, with a touch of his old sarcasm. "I
+supposed, from the tenor of your mother's petition, that you had begun
+to repent of your high-toned language to me in our last interview, and
+would now accede to terms you once spurned, as the price of my
+assistance to you and yours."
+
+Edith curbed her high spirit, and calmly replied, "You misunderstood
+my mother's words. As the mother of the late heir, she justly
+considers herself entitled to a pittance from your estate, and she
+claimed from your humanity, what she was hopeless of obtaining from
+your sense of justice. For myself, I hoped for nothing from either,
+but I acquiesced in her application. I am sorry that you have founded
+on it expectations which must prove fallacious."
+
+"Then, madam, I need remain no longer," said Barclay, addressing Mrs.
+Euston. "Your daughter remembers our interview previous to, and after,
+the death of her brother; the only terms on which I would assist you
+were then explicitly expressed."
+
+Mrs. Euston caught his hand, and bowed her venerable head upon it.
+
+"Have mercy, Robert, upon my gray hairs--my daughter; look at her--she
+is dying by inches--she is stifling in this wretched spot. The money
+that was my son's should surely buy a shelter for us. Leave us not
+helpless, hopeless. My God! my God! give me eloquence to plead for my
+child!" and she threw herself upon the floor, and raised her clasped
+hands to heaven.
+
+"Madam," said Barclay, "it only rests with your daughter to have mercy
+upon you and herself. Where, I ask you, is her filial piety, when she
+beholds you suffer thus, and relents not toward one who offers her a
+love that has survived coldness, contempt, contumely."
+
+Edith approached her mother, and assisted her to rise.
+
+"My dearest mother, calm yourself. Humble not yourself thus before our
+oppressor. God is just--is merciful. He will not forget the widow and
+the orphan in their extremity. Leave us, Mr. Barclay; had my wishes
+alone been consulted, you never would have been called on thus to
+witness our misfortunes."
+
+Barclay bowed, and haughtily strode from the room.
+
+"Another month of privation," he muttered, "and she will surely be
+mine or Death's. It does not much matter to which she belongs. Ah, if
+she only knew all!" and he sprung into his cabriolet, and dashed off
+toward the more aristocratic portion of the city.
+
+In the hope that Edith would be forced to relent, Barclay had remained
+in New Orleans thus late in the season, and he resolved to linger yet
+a little longer, until want and suffering should leave her no choice.
+His passion for her was one of those insanities to which men of his
+violent character are often liable. He desired her as the one great
+gift, which was to purify, to exalt him in the scale of humanity. The
+delicate beauty of her person, the sensibility of her soul, the grace
+of her manner, rendered her irresistibly attractive to him; but so
+selfish was his love, that he would sooner have seen her perish at his
+feet, than have rendered her assistance, except at the price proposed.
+
+Another month passed by, and still there was no news of Edith or her
+mother. He grasped the daily paper, almost with a sensation of fear,
+and glanced at the column of deaths, which at that season usually
+contains a goodly array. Their names were not yet among them, or
+perchance in their poverty and obscurity they would not find
+admittance even among the daily list of mortality.
+
+The yellow fever had commenced its annual ravages, and Barclay
+retreated to a country-house in the vicinity, owned by a friend, and
+dispatched a confidential servant to inquire concerning Mrs. Euston
+and her daughter. They were still in the same place, but the mother
+had been ill, and was still confined to her bed.
+
+One morning, about two weeks afterward, Barclay was seated in a
+delightful little saloon, over a late breakfast. The room was
+furnished with every appliance of modern luxury, and the morning air
+stirred the branches of noble trees without, whose verdant shade
+completely shut out the glare of the sun. A servant entered, and
+presented to him a letter which had just been left. The irregular hand
+with which it was directed, prevented him from recognizing the writing
+of Edith, and when he opened the missive, which had evidently been
+blotted with her bitter tears, a flush of triumph mounted to his
+cheek, and he exclaimed with an oath,
+
+"Mine at last!--I knew it must end thus!"
+
+The letter contained the following words:
+
+     "After a night of such suffering as casts all I have
+     previously endured into the shade, I address you. My
+     mother now lies before me in that heavy and death-like
+     sleep which follows utter exhaustion. Her state of
+     health for the last month has demanded my constant
+     care, and the precarious remuneration I have been able
+     to obtain for sewing, I have thus been compelled to
+     give up. We have parted with every souvenir of our
+     better days--even our clothing has been sacrificed,
+     until we have but a change of garments left; and now
+     our landlady insists on being paid the small sum we owe
+     her, or we must leave her house to-day. She came into
+     our room last evening, and the scene which ensued threw
+     my mother into such a state of nervous excitement, that
+     she has not yet recovered from it.
+
+     "I cannot disguise from myself that she is very ill. If
+     she awakes to a renewal of the same anguish, I dare not
+     contemplate the consequences. You know that I do not
+     love you, Mr. Barclay. I make no pretension to a change
+     in my feelings; repugnant as it must be to a heart of
+     sensibility, I must view this transaction as a matter
+     of bargain and sale. I will accept your late offer, to
+     save my mother from further suffering, and to gain a
+     home for her declining years.
+
+     "For myself, I will endeavor to be to you--but why
+     should I promise any thing for myself. God alone can
+     give me strength to live after the sacrifice is
+     completed.
+
+                                                  "EDITH."
+
+There was much in this letter that was wounding to his vanity, and
+bitter to his feelings; but he had triumphed! The stately pride of
+this girl was humbled before him--her spirit bowed in the dust before
+the gaunt spectre she had thought herself capable of braving. She
+would be his--the fair, the pure in heart, would link herself to vice,
+infamy and crime, for money. Money! the world's god! See the countless
+millions groveling upon the earth before the great idol--the golden
+calf, which so often brings with it as bitter a curse as was denounced
+against the people of old, when they forsook the living and true God
+for its worship.
+
+Can it not buy every thing--even woman's love, or the semblance of it,
+which would serve him just as well? He, the murderer of the brother,
+would purchase the compliance of the sister with this magical agent;
+but--and his heart quailed at the thought--could it buy self-respect?
+Could it enable him to look into the clear eye of that woman he would
+call his wife, and say, "My soul is worthy to be linked with thine in
+the realms of eternity."
+
+No--he felt that the sacrilegious union must be unblessed on earth,
+and severed in heaven, yet he shrunk not from his purpose.
+
+He lost no time in seeking Edith; Mrs. Euston was yet buried in the
+leaden slumber produced by a powerful narcotic. The unhappy girl
+received him alone, and he remarked that his words of impassioned love
+brought no color to her marble cheek--no emotion to her soul; she
+seemed to have steeled herself for the interview, and it was not until
+he pressed the kiss of betrothal upon her pallid lips, that she
+betrayed any sensibility--then a thrill, a shudder pervaded her whole
+frame, and he supported her nearly insensible form several moments
+before she regained power to sustain herself. Could he have looked
+into that breaking heart, and have read there all the bitter loathing,
+the agonized struggles for self-control, would he have persisted in
+his suit? Yes--for this was a part of his vengeance for the slights
+she had put upon him; and in the future, if she did not play the part
+he thus forced upon her, with all the devotion he should exact, had he
+not bitter words at his command to taunt her with the scene of that
+morning?
+
+A physician was called in, who advised the removal of Mrs. Euston
+while she slept; and arrangements were soon made to accomplish it. The
+family to whom Barclay's present retreat belonged, were spending the
+summer at the north, and their house had been left at his disposal. He
+determined to remove Mrs. Euston and her daughter thither, while he
+took up his own abode, until the day of his marriage, with a bachelor
+friend in the neighborhood.
+
+Edith demanded an interval of a week before their union took place,
+which he reluctantly granted. Naturally prodigal, he employed the time
+in ordering the most elegant _trousseau_ for his bride. She who so
+lately was struggling with bitter want, was now surrounded by servants
+eager to anticipate every wish, while Barclay played the devoted
+lover. Edith prayed earnestly for power to regard him with such
+feelings as alone could hallow the union they were about to form. Vain
+were her lonely struggles--her tearful supplications; a spectral form
+seemed to rise ever between them, and reproach her that she had been
+so untrue to herself, even for the preservation of a mother.
+
+The only thing that consoled her for her great sacrifice, was that her
+beloved mother seemed to revive to some sense of enjoyment, when she
+again found herself surrounded by that comfort to which she had been
+accustomed. Weakened in mind as in body, Mrs. Euston fondly flattered
+herself that her daughter might yet be happy amid the splendors of
+wealth; and the poor mother welcomed the arbiter of their future fate
+with smiles and courteous words, to which he listened with politeness,
+and scorned as the hollow offspring of necessity.
+
+The dreaded day at length arrived, and with the calmness of exhausted
+emotion, Edith prepared herself for the ceremony which was to consign
+her to the protection of Barclay. She believed her earthly fate
+sealed, and resignation was all she could command.
+
+Amid all her suffering, there was one thought which arose perpetually
+before her; there was one human being on earth who would have risked
+his life to serve or save her, and she knew that a heart worthy of her
+love would hear the history of her enforced marriage with bitter
+disappointment and anguish.
+
+Near the home of her infancy dwelt a family of sons and daughters with
+whom she had been reared in habits of intimacy. Between herself and
+the eldest son a strong attachment had grown up; it had never been
+expressed in words, yet each felt as well assured of the affection of
+the other, as if a thousand protestations had been uttered. About the
+time that Mrs. Euston and her daughter left their own home to travel
+with their beloved invalid, Walter Atwood bade adieu to his paternal
+home, on a tour to Europe, where he was to complete his professional
+education as a medical man.
+
+Mrs. Euston's place passed into the hands of strangers, and after a
+few months all intercourse by letter ceased between their former
+friends and themselves. After the death of her son, the bereaved
+mother would not consent to return to their former neighborhood, and
+thus all trace of them was lost to the Atwoods; but Edith knew in her
+deep heart that Walter would return--would seek her; and it was this
+conviction which gave her firmness to resist so long the overtures of
+Barclay.
+
+Now all was at an end; another hour and the right even to think of him
+would no longer be hers. Her mother entered her room, folded her to
+her breast, and whispered,
+
+"The hour has arrived, my child. Robert is here with the clergyman. Do
+not keep them waiting."
+
+"I am quite ready, mother," said Edith, calmly, and she advanced
+without hesitation toward the door, for she heard an impatient step
+without, which she well knew. Barclay awaited her in the hall--he
+impetuously seized her hand and drew it beneath his arm.
+
+At that moment the door-bell was violently pulled, and both turned
+impulsively to see who made so imperious a demand for admittance.
+
+At the open door stood two figures, one of a young man, who appeared
+deeply agitated, for his features, beneath the light of the lamps,
+seemed white and rigid, as if cut from marble. Over his shoulder
+appeared a swarthy face, with a pair of bright, keen eyes, gleaming
+from beneath overhanging brows.
+
+Edith and Barclay both uttered an exclamation--but they were very
+different in their character. In the impulse of the moment, the former
+drew her hand forcibly from him who sought to retain it, and with one
+bound, was in the arms of the foremost stranger, as she exclaimed,
+
+"Walter--my saviour--my preserver! you have come at last!"
+
+The face of Atwood lost its unnatural rigidity as he pressed her to
+his heart, and said,
+
+"Thank Heaven! I am not then too late!"
+
+Barclay advanced threateningly,
+
+"What does this mean, sir? Are you aware that such conduct in my house
+is not to be tolerated--that you shall answer for it to me with your
+life?"
+
+"It means, Mr. Barclay, that I come with authority to prevent the
+unholy alliance you were about to force upon this helpless and
+unprotected girl, to place the seal upon your crimes, by clasping in
+wedlock the hand of the sister with that which is red with the
+brother's blood."
+
+"'T is false--the boy killed himself, as Edith herself knows full
+well. Am I to be held accountable for the dissipation of a young fool,
+who, when once the curb was removed, went headlong to destruction
+without the necessity of any prompting from me."
+
+"We will waive that part of the question, if you please, Mr. Barclay.
+I have brought with me one who can prove much more than that. Come
+forward, Antoine."
+
+The Frenchman advanced, and Barclay grew pale as he recognized him.
+
+"Let us retire to a private room," continued Atwood, in a lower
+tone--"I would not have Mrs. Euston and her daughter hear too
+suddenly the developments I am prepared to make."
+
+Then turning to Edith he said--
+
+"You are saved, my dear Edith. Retire with your mother, while I settle
+with Mr. Barclay."
+
+Mechanically Barclay led the way into an adjoining room. When there,
+he turned haughtily and said--
+
+"Now, sir, explain yourself--tell me why my privacy is thus invaded,
+and--"
+
+Atwood interrupted him.
+
+"It is useless to attempt bravado with me, sir. Your whole career is
+too intimately known to me to render it of any avail. You know that
+from my boyhood I have loved Miss Euston, for you may remember a
+conversation which took place between us several years since, when you
+were received as a visiter at her mother's house. Jealousy enabled you
+to penetrate what had been carefully veiled from others, and you taxed
+me with what I would not deny. Do you remember the words you used to
+the boy you then spoke to? That you would move heaven and earth to win
+Edith Euston."
+
+"To what does all this tend?" asked Barclay, in an irritated tone.
+
+"Patience, and you will see. I returned from Europe and found that
+Mrs. Euston's family had left for Havanna. Her lawsuit had gone
+against her, and she had lost her home. Nothing more was known of her.
+I lost no time in following her. I reached Cuba, and after many
+inquiries, traced her to the house of the family which had received
+her beneath their roof. There I heard the history of her son's unhappy
+death, at the moment he was about to confer independence upon his
+mother and sister. _You_ were mentioned as a visiter after his death;
+your _generous_ offer to share with Miss Euston as your wife the
+wealth which should have been hers was dwelt on. All this aroused a
+vague suspicion in my mind. I made minute inquiries, and traced you
+through all the orgies of your dissipation. One night I was following
+up the inquiry, and I entered a tavern much frequented by foreigners.
+A man sat apart in gloomy silence. One of his comrades said--
+
+"'Antoine grieves over the loss of his bird. All the money the
+American paid him does not make him forget that he sold his best
+friend!'
+
+"By an electric chain of thought, the incident which attended poor
+Euston's last moments, occurred to me. I approached the man, and
+addressed him in French, for I saw that he was a native of that
+country. I spoke of his bird. He shook his head and said--
+
+"'It is not the loss of the bird, monsieur, but the use that was made
+of him, that troubles my conscience.'
+
+"In short, to condense a long story, I learned from Antoine, that he
+remained in your lodgings several days, until the mackaw he sold to
+you became sufficiently accustomed to you to be caressed without
+biting. During that time you had a room darkened, and required him to
+train the bird to fly at a light and overturn it. When he was
+dismissed, his curiosity was excited, and he watched your movements.
+He nightly dogged your steps, and traced you to the garden of the
+villa. He stood within a few feet of you on the night of Euston's
+death, and beheld the use to which you put his bird. His eyes,
+accustomed to the gloom without, beheld your dark form glide to the
+side of your victim. He saw your murderous hand pressed upon the
+breast of the dying youth."
+
+"'T is false--false. I defy him to prove it."
+
+"It is true, sir--the evidence is such as would condemn you in any
+court; and now listen to me. I offer you lenient terms, in
+consideration of the ties of relationship which bind you to those you
+have so cruelly oppressed. One third of the fortune for which you have
+paid so fearful a price shall be yours, if you will sign a paper I
+have with me, which will restore the remainder to Mrs. Euston. If you
+refuse, I have in my pocket a writ of arrest, and the officers are in
+the shrubbery awaiting my orders to execute it. Comply with my terms
+and I suffer you to escape."
+
+Thus confronted by imminent danger, Barclay seemed to lose his courage
+and presence of mind. He measured the floor with rapid steps a few
+moments, and then turning to Atwood motioned for the paper, to which
+he affixed his signature without uttering a word.
+
+"There is yet another condition," said Atwood.
+
+"Leave this country within forty-eight hours. If, after that time, I
+am made aware of your presence within the jurisdiction of the United
+States, I will have you arrested as a murderer. The peace of mind of
+those I have rescued from your power shall not be periled by your
+presence within the same land they inhabit." Barclay ground his teeth
+with rage.
+
+"I _shall_ leave it, be assured, but not to escape from this absurd
+charge."
+
+"Go then. I care not from what motive."
+
+Another instant, and Barclay had passed from the room. Edith and her
+mother traveled to their former home in the beautiful land of Florida,
+under the protection of Atwood, and there, amid rejoicing friends,
+surrounded by all the happy associations of her bright youth, she gave
+her hand to her faithful lover.
+
+Barclay perished in a street brawl, in a foreign land, and the whole
+of her brother's estate finally devolved upon her.
+
+
+
+
+A VOICE FOR POLAND.
+
+BY WM. H. C. HOSMER.
+
+
+    Up, for encounter stern
+      While unsheathed weapons gleam;
+    The beacon-fires of Freedom burn,
+      Her banners wildly stream;
+    Awake! and drink at purple springs--
+    Lo! the "White Eagle" flaps his wings
+      With a rejoicing scream,
+    That sends an old, heroic thrill
+    Through hearts that are unconquered still.
+
+    Leap to your saddles, leap!
+      Tried wielders of the lance,
+    And charge as when ye broke the sleep
+      Of Europe, at the call of France:
+    The knightly deeds of other years
+    Eclipse, ye matchless cavaliers!
+      While plume and penon dance--
+    That prince, upon his phantom steed,
+    In Ellster lost your ranks shall lead.
+
+    Flock round the altar, flock!
+      And swear ye will be free;
+    Then rush to brave the battle shock
+      Like surges of a maddened sea;
+    Death, with a red and shattered brand
+    Yet clinging to the rigid hand,
+      A blissful fate would be,
+    Contrasted with that darker doom
+    A branded brow--a living tomb.
+
+    Speed to the combat, speed!
+      And beat oppression down,
+    Or win, by martrydom, the meed
+      Of high and shadowless renown;
+    Ye weary exiles, from afar
+    Came back! and make the savage Czar
+      In terror clutch his crown;
+    While wronged and vengeful millions pour
+    Defiance at his palace-door.
+
+    Throng forth with souls to dare,
+      From huts and ruined halls!
+    On the deep midnight of despair
+      A beam of ancient glory falls:
+    The knout, the chain and dungeon cave
+    To frenzy have aroused the brave;
+      Dismembered Poland calls,
+    And through a land opprest, betrayed,
+    Stalks Kosciusko's frowning shade.
+
+
+
+
+TO HER WHO CAN UNDERSTAND IT.
+
+BY MAYNE REID.
+
+
+    They tell me, lady, that thy heart is changed--
+      That on thy lip there is another name;
+    I'll not believe it--though for life estranged--
+      I know thy love's lone worship is the same.
+    The bee that wanders on the summer breath,
+      May wanton safely among leaves and flowers,
+    But by the honied jar it clings till death--
+      There is no change for hearts that loved like ours.
+
+    You may not mock me--'tis an idle game--
+      The lip may lie, the eye with bright beguiling
+    May, from the world, conceal a suffering flame,
+      But 'tis the eye and not the heart is smiling;
+    And I, too, have that power of deceiving,
+      By the strong pride of an unfeeling will,
+    The cold and cunning world in its believing--
+      What boots it all? The heart will suffer still.
+
+    Comes there not o'er thy spirit, when 'tis dreaming
+      In the lone hours of the voiceless night,
+    When the sweet past like a new present seeming,
+      Brings back those rosy hours of love and light?
+    Comes there not o'er thy dreaming spirit then
+      Delicious joy--although 'tis but a vision--
+    That we have met, caressed and kissed again,
+      And revel still among those sweets Elysian?
+
+    Comes there not o'er thy spirit when it wakes,
+      And finds, with sleep, the vision too hath parted
+    A lone depression, till thy proud heart aches,
+      And from thy burning orb the tear hath started?
+    And with sad memories through thy bosom thronging,
+      Within thy heart's most secret deep recesses
+    Feel'st thou not then an agony of longing
+      To dream again of those divine caresses?
+
+    To dream them o'er and o'er, or deem them real,
+      While penitence is speaking in thy sighs--
+    For this, unlike thy dream, is not ideal--
+      It brings the pallid cheek, the moistened eyes:
+    Then, lady, mock not love so deeply hearted,
+      With that light seeming which deceit can give--
+    The love I promised thee, when last we parted,
+      Shall never be another's while _you_ live.
+
+
+[Illustration: Engraved by W. E. Tu
+A PIC NIC ON OLDEN TIME.
+Engraved Expressly for Graham's magazine]
+
+
+
+
+A PIC-NIC IN OLDEN TIME.
+
+BY QUEVEDO.
+
+[SEE ENGRAVING.]
+
+
+Joy is as old as the universe, yet as young as a June rose: and a
+pic-nic has of all places been its delight, since the little quiet
+family _fetes champetres_ of Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. So it
+is of no especial consequence in what reign of what kingdom our clever
+artist has laid his scene--and sooth to say, from the diversified and
+pleasantly incongruous costume and accessories of the picture, it
+might puzzle an uninitiated to tell. But we, who are in the secrets of
+Maga, and to whom the very brain-workings of her poets and painters
+are as palpable as the crystal curdling of the lake beneath the filmy
+breath of the Frost King, of course know all about it, and will
+whisper in your ear the key to the pretty harmonies of wood and sky
+and happy faces which he has spread out in a sort of visible cavatina,
+or dear little love-song, beneath your eye.
+
+It was a gay time at Sweetbriar Lodge--for the fair Alice Hawthorn had
+just been married to the Squire of Deerdale, and the happy pair
+(new-married people were even in those times happy, although they were
+not so set down in the newspapers,) had determined to spend the
+honeymoon quietly at home, like sensible people, instead of posting
+off to Bath or Brighton; or mewing themselves up in some outlandish
+corner of the country, where they could see and hear nothing but
+themselves, until they were ready to commence the married life by
+being cloyed with each other's society. The season was mid-summer, and
+the weather so balmy and beautiful that after wandering about in the
+woods and fields all day, and watching the moon creep stealthily up
+the sky to view herself in the fountain, one felt a longing to make
+his bed on the fresh turf under the katydid's bower, and sleep there.
+Of course I don't mean the young and happy bridegroom. He never
+dreamed of being absent from his Alice; and he even felt quite jealous
+of her little sister Emma, who used sometimes to come and put her
+laughing, roguish face and curly head between the lovers, as they were
+sitting on the sofa or reclining on the green turf by the little
+fountain.
+
+But Alice had another sister, older than herself, and who had already
+refused several excellent offers of marriage--declaring that she
+intended to live and die single, unless she should fall in love with
+some wandering minstrel or prince in disguise, like Lalla Rookh. Her
+name was Hortensia; but on account of her proud indifference to the
+attentions and compliments which were every where offered to her
+wonderful beauty, she was usually called Haughty Hawthorn--a name
+which seemed to please her better than all the flatteries of which she
+was the object. She was already twenty-two, and ripening into the full
+magnificence of glorious womanhood--her heart yet untouched by the
+electric dart of love, and her fancy free as the birds of air.
+
+Now it was quite natural that the gentle Alice, whom love had made so
+happy, should willingly enter into a conspiracy with her husband and a
+parcel of the young people of the neighborhood against the peace and
+comfort of her haughty sister--deeming of course--as I myself am also
+of opinion--that a young lady out of love ought to be supremely
+miserable, whatever she herself may think about it.
+
+Keeping in view the peculiar requisites required by Haughty in a
+lover, the plan was to get up an old-fashioned pic-nic, at which a
+young friend of Squire Deerdale, who was studying for an artist, and
+had just returned from Italy, where he had picked up a little music as
+well as painting, should be introduced after a mysterious fashion,
+which would be sure to inflame the imagination of the loveless lady.
+The artist, according to the squire, was handsome as a prince and
+eloquent as a minstrel, and his extensive practice in Rome had made
+him perfect master of the fine arts, the art of making love included.
+So the pic-nic was proposed that very evening, to take place the next
+day. Hortensia, who was fond of frolick and fun as the best of them,
+albeit not yet in love, fell at once into the snare; and the squire
+carelessly led the conversation to turn upon the sudden and unexpected
+arrival of the young Duke of St. James upon his magnificent estate
+adjoining Sweetbriar Lodge, which he said had taken place that very
+day.
+
+"The duke," said the squire, "is, as you all have heard, one of the
+most romantic and sentimental youths in the world, and quite out of
+the way of our ordinary extravagant, matter-of-fact young nobility. I
+had the pleasure of meeting him when I was in Rome, and could not help
+being charmed with him. He read and wrote poetry divinely, played the
+mandolin like St. Cecilia, and sung like an improvisatore. I met him
+to-day, as he was approaching home in his carriage, and found him, as
+well as I could judge from a five minutes' conversation, the same as
+ever. I say nothing--but should a fresh-looking, golden-haired,
+dreamy-eyed youth be seen at our pic-nic to-morrow, I hope he will be
+greeted with the courtesy and welcome due not only to a neighbor but a
+man of genius."
+
+This adroitly concocted speech was drank in like wine by the
+unsuspicious Hortensia. A duke! a poet! a romantic man of genius! What
+was it made her heart beat so rapidly?--_her_ heart, that had never
+beat out of time save over the page of the poet or the novelist--or
+may be in the trance of some beautiful midnight dream, such as love to
+hover around the pillows of fair maidens, and who can blame them?
+
+The next morning, as Willis says of one of his fine days, was astray
+from Paradise; and bright and early our pic-nickers, comprising a
+goodly company of young people, married and single, with several
+beautiful children, including of course the roguish Emma, were on the
+field selected for the day's campaign. It was a lovely spot. Under a
+noble oak whose limbs, rounded into a leafy dome, shed a palpitating
+shadow around a sweet little fountain, guarded by a marble naiad,
+gathered the merry company upon the green velvet ottoman,
+daisy-spangled, that ran around this splendid natural saloon, bower
+and drawing-room combined. The day had fulfilled the golden promise of
+the early morning; the air, impregnated with a sparkling, effervescing
+sunshine, was as bewitching as the breath of champagne foam, and our
+adventurers were in the liveliest and gayest spirits.
+
+Noon was culminating, and the less excitable and more worldly portion
+of the company began to be thinking seriously of the bountiful
+refection which had been provided for the grand occasion. Hortensia,
+it was observed by Squire Deerdale and his wife, and the others who
+were in the secret, had seemed absent and thoughtful, all the morning,
+and little Emma had teased her sufficiently for not playing with her
+as usual. At this moment a young man was seen coming down the broad
+sloping glade at the foot of which the party were seated. The squire
+immediately rose and welcomed the stranger, introducing him to his
+bride and sister-in-law, and expressing his pleasure that he had come.
+"We almost began to fear," he added, "that you had forgotten our
+humble festival."
+
+"A _fete_ thus embellished," replied the stranger, bowing with
+peculiar grace to the ladies, and glancing admiringly at Hortensia,
+"is not an affair to be so easily forgotten by a wanderer who comes,
+after years of exile, to revive beneath the blue skies and bluer eyes
+of his native land."
+
+"But your mandolin, Signor Foreigner; I hope you have not forgotten
+that?"
+
+"Oh no indeed," returned the stranger with a musical laugh, "I never
+forget my little friend, whose harmonies have often been my only
+company. Here it comes," pointing to a lad who just then came up,
+bearing a handsome though outlandish-looking guitar gingerly across
+his arm.
+
+Another of the party had also brought his guitar, and the two were
+soon tinkling away at different parts of the grounds--the latter
+surrounded by half a dozen young men and women, and several beautiful
+children; while the stranger, throwing himself on the grass at the
+feet of Hortensia, upon whose lap nestled the little Emma, began a
+simple ballad of the olden time--while the squire and his bride stood
+against the old oak behind Hortensia. At length the strain of the
+young musician changed, subsiding into low and plaintive undulations.
+
+"It is time for us to go," whispered Alice to her husband; "we are
+evidently _de trop_ here"--and the wedded pair glided noiselessly off,
+casting mischievous glances at the haughty Hortensia, who sat
+absorbed in the music, and tears of sympathy and rapture ready to fall
+from her eyes. It was a clear case of love at first sight.
+
+From this pleasant reverie both musician and listener were suddenly
+roused by little Emma, who, raising her head and shaking back the long
+ringlets from her face, exclaimed,
+
+"Oh, sister, hear that! There goes the champagne, and I am so hungry.
+Come, let us go to dinner."
+
+"Excuse me, madam," exclaimed the stranger, ceasing to play and
+springing to his feet, "your beautiful little monitor is right. I was
+already forgetting myself and venturing to dream as of old;" and he
+offered his arm to Hortensia, with that polite freedom not only
+permitted, but enjoined, by the etiquette of the pic-nic.
+
+"And do you call it forgetfulness to dream?" inquired Hortensia.
+
+"With so fair a reality before me, yes; but at other times to dream is
+to live."
+
+"Oh, yes, it _is_ nice to dream!" broke in the little Emma. "Almost as
+nice as a wedding. Now last night I dreamt that you were married,
+Haughty, like sister Alice."
+
+A lambent rosy flame seemed to envelop for an instant the beautiful
+Hortensia, disappearing instantly, yet leaving its scarlet traces on
+cheek and brow.
+
+"What say you, my pretty one," said the stranger, patting the lovely
+child upon the head, "what say you to a sandwich and a glass of wine
+with me, here on the greensward? (They had now approached the
+_table_--if a snow-white damask spread upon the velvet grass, and
+loaded with tempting viands could be called so.) Is not that better
+than dreams?"
+
+"I love wine, sir, but mamma and sister say I shouldn't drink it,
+because it makes my eyes red. Now _your_ eyes are as bright as stars.
+Do you drink wine?"
+
+It was the stranger's turn to blush. And this little childish prattle
+seemed to have removed the barrier of strangership from between the
+two young people, who exchanged glances of a sort of merry vexation,
+and seemed to understand each other as if they were old friends.
+
+That was a merry meal, "all under the greenwood tree," and on the
+margin of that sweet little fountain, whose waters came up to the very
+lip of the turf, which it refreshed with a sparkling coolness that
+ever renewed the brightness of the flowers upon its bosom. After the
+dinner was over, a dance was proposed, and the services of the
+handsome stranger, as musician, were cheerfully offered and promptly
+accepted. It was observed, however, that Hortensia, usually crazy for
+dancing, strolled pensively about with little Emma at her side, and at
+length seated herself on a little grassy bank, remote from the
+dancers, yet where she could overlook the scene.
+
+There was a little pause in the dance, and Squire Deerdale approached
+the stranger and whispered,
+
+"Do you like her?"
+
+"She's as beautiful as Juno, but I dare not hope that she would ever
+love a poor vagabond like me. She deserves a prince of the blood, at
+the very least."
+
+"Never mind!--_Vedremo_, as we say in Italy;" and with a laugh the
+young man bounded again into the dance, while the stranger redoubled
+his attention to his guitar.
+
+The day began to wane, and the shadows of a neighboring mountain to
+creep slowly across the lea; and yet, so absorbed was that gay company
+in the merry pleasures of the day, that hours glided by unnoticed; and
+it was not until the round, yellow moon rose over the eastern hills,
+as if peeping out to see the sun set, that they thought of breaking up
+a scene of little less than enchantment.
+
+The stranger scarcely left the side of Hortensia, who seemed
+completely subdued and fascinated by the serious eloquence, the
+inexhaustible brilliancy of his conversation, as well as enthralled by
+the classic beauty of his face, and the respectful yet tender glances
+which he from time to time cast upon her face. It may also be supposed
+that the hints casually dropped by the squire the night before,
+respecting his distinguished acquaintance, the young Duke of St.
+James, had not been without their effect. Sooth to say, however, that
+the hitherto cold and impassive Hortensia was really in love, and that
+she had too much self-respect to make any conditions in the bestowal
+of her admiration. She was haughty, proud and ambitious--yet at the
+same time high-minded and generous where her feelings were really
+interested.
+
+Much may be accomplished in an afternoon between two congenial hearts
+that meet for the first time; and it is not at all surprising that on
+their way home the stranger and Hortensia should have lingered a
+little behind the rest of the party, engaged in deep and earnest talk.
+
+"Beautiful being," whispered the stranger, "I have at length found my
+heart's idol, whom in dreams I have ever worshiped. What need of long
+acquaintanceship between hearts made for each other? Lady, I love
+you!"
+
+"Sir, sir, I beg you to pause. You know not what you are saying--you
+cannot mean that--"
+
+"But I tell you he does mean it, though," exclaimed a merry voice
+close at the lady's elbow; and turning round, she saw her mischievous
+brother-in-law, who had been demurely following their tardy footsteps.
+
+"Brother! you here! I--really--am quite astonished!"
+
+"And," interrupted the stranger, while a dark flush came over his
+face, "allow me to say, Squire Deerdale, that I also am astonished at
+this violation of the rights of a friendship even so old and sincere
+as ours."
+
+"Well, well, I beg your pardon, fair lady; and as for you, sir, after
+you have heard my explanation, I shall be prepared to give you any
+satisfaction you may require. You must know, then, my dear old friend,
+that from a few careless words I dropped last evening, by way of joke,
+this young lady has imbibed the idea that you are the young Duke of
+St. James in disguise; and for the purpose of preventing any
+misunderstandings for the future, it is requisite that my sister and
+my friend Walter Willie, the artist, should comprehend one another's
+position fully."
+
+"Good heavens! madam, you cannot believe that I was accessory to this
+mad prank of your brother's? Do not believe it for the world."
+
+"No, no, I acquit you and every body but myself. I am sure I intended
+no harm by my thoughtless joke. Come, come, make up the matter at
+once, so that I may hasten back to Alice, who will begin to grow
+jealous, directly."
+
+"Madam, dear madam, (Hortensia turned away her head with an imperious
+gesture,) I have only to beg your pardon for having too long intruded
+upon your attention, and to take my leave. The poor artist must still
+worship his ideal at a distance. For him there is but the world of
+imagination. No such bright reality as being beloved rests in his
+gloomy future. Farewell!" and the young man, bowing for a moment over
+the hand of Hortensia, withdrew.
+
+"Brother, brother, what have you done!" passionately exclaimed the
+beauty, in a voice choked by sobs. "For a foolish joke you have driven
+away the only being who has ever interested my lonely heart. And now I
+can never, never be happy again."
+
+"But, dear Hortensia, would you stoop to love a mere artist?"
+
+"Stoop, sir,--stoop! I know not what you mean. Think you so meanly of
+me as to believe I would sell myself for wealth and a title? Proud I
+may be--but not, I thank God, mercenary nor mean. And what a lofty,
+noble spirit is that of your friend! What lord or duke could match the
+height of his intellect or the gorgeousness of his imagination. Oh,
+too soon my beautiful dream is broken!" and the young lady, all power
+of her usual self-restraint being lost, wept like a child upon the
+shoulder of her brother.
+
+"Nay, nay, sister dear, weep not," at length said the squire, tenderly
+raising her head and leading her homeward. "All is not lost that is in
+danger. And so that you really _have_ lost your hard little heart to
+my noble, glorious friend, I'll take care that it is soon
+recovered--or at any rate another one quite as good. Come, come, cheer
+up! All will go well."
+
+The squire, although not usually rated as a prophet, predicted rightly
+for once; for the very next day saw young Walter Willie at Sweetbriar
+Lodge, with a face as handsome and happy as the morning. Hortensia was
+ill, and must not be disturbed; and at this information his features
+suddenly became overcast, as you may have seen a spring sky by a thick
+cloud, springing up from nobody knows where. However, the squire
+entered directly after, and whispered a few words to his guest, which
+seemed to restore in a measure the brightness of his look.
+
+"And you really think, then, that I may hope?"
+
+"Nay, my friend, you may do as you like about that. All men may hope,
+you know Shakspeare says. But I tell you that Hortensia has fallen in
+love with your foolish face--it's just like her!--and that's all about
+it. Come in and take some breakfast. Oh, I forgot--you've no appetite.
+Of course not. Well, you'll find some nice fresh dew in those
+morning-glories yonder, and I will rejoin you in a minute. We 'll make
+a day of it."
+
+That evening the moon shone a million times brighter, the sky was a
+million times bluer, and the nightingale sung a million times sweeter
+than ever before. At least so thought the beautiful Hortensia and her
+artist-lover, as they strolled, arm-in-arm, through the woody lawn
+that skirted the garden of Sweetbriar Lodge, and held sweet converse
+of immortal things by gazing into each other's eyes. And so ends our
+veracious history of the Pic-Nic in Olden Time.
+
+
+
+
+TO THE VIOLET.
+
+BY H. T. TUCKERMAN.
+
+
+    Sweet trophy of life's morning, fresh and calm,
+      Dropped from the gleanings of relentless time,
+    How from thy dainty chalice steals the balm
+      That hung like incense o'er its dewy prime!
+
+    The lily's stateliness thou dost not own,
+      Nor glow voluptuous of the damask rose,
+    Thou canst not emulate the laurel's crown,
+      Nor, like the Cereus, watch while all repose.
+
+    And these gay rivals of parterre and field
+      May freely drink the sunshine and the dew,
+    But only unto thee does heaven yield
+      The pure reflection of her cloudless blue.
+
+    Thy tint will sometimes darken till it wear
+      A purple such as decked the eastern kings,
+    And yet, like innocence, all unaware
+      Its tribute to the wind thy blossom flings.
+
+    Symbol of what is cherished and untold,
+      Thy fragrance oft reveals thee to the sight,
+    Peering in beauty from the common mould,
+      As casual blessings the forlorn requite.
+
+    Thy image upon Laura's robe was wrought,
+      O'er which her poet with devotion mused,
+    And gentle souls, I ween, have ever caught
+      From thee a solace that the world refused.
+
+    The Tuscan flower-girls delight to cheer
+      Each pensive exile with thy scented leaves,
+    Fit largess of a clime to fancy dear,
+      Which a new blandishment from thee receives.
+
+    Grief's frenzy, when it melts, of thee will rave,
+      As of a thing too winsome to decay,
+    And thus Laertes at his sister's grave
+      Bids violets spring from her unsullied clay.
+
+    Lowly incentive to celestial thought!
+      We ne'er with listless step can pass thee by,
+    For thou with tender embassies art fraught,
+      Like the fond beaming of a northern eye.
+
+    Hence thou art sacred to our human needs;
+      Laid on the maiden's white and throbbing breast
+    Thy delicate odor for the absent pleads,
+      And mourners strew thee where their idols rest.
+
+    In those wild hours when feeling chafed its bound,
+      And deepened more that utterance was denied,
+    In thee persuasive messengers I found
+      That reached the haven of love's wayward tide.
+
+    And I have borne thee to the couch of death
+      When naught remained to do but wait and pray,
+    And marked the sudden flush and quickened breath
+      That proved thee dear though all had passed away!
+
+
+
+
+THEY MAY TELL OF A CLIME.
+
+TO ---- ----.
+
+BY CHARLES E. TRAIL.
+
+
+    They may tell of a clime more delightful than this,
+      The land of the orange, the myrtle and vine;
+    Where the roses blush red beneath Zephyr's warm kiss,
+      And the bright beams of summer unceasingly shine.
+    But I know a sweet valley, a beautiful spot,
+      Where the turf is so green, and the breezes are bland;
+    And methinks, if you'll share there my ivy-crowned cot,
+      There'll be no place on earth like my own native land.
+
+    A palace 'neath Italy's star-covered sky,
+      Unblest by thy presence would desolate be;
+    But cheered by the light of thy soft beaming eye,
+      Ah! sweet were a tent in the desert with thee.
+    For 'tis love--O! 'tis love which thus hallows the ground,
+      And brightens the gloom of the anchorite's cell;
+    And the Eden of earth--wheresoe'er it be found--
+      Is the spot where the heart's cherished idol doth dwell.
+
+    Then come to my cottage--though cool be the shade,
+      And verdant the sod 'neath the wide-spreading bough--
+    Where the wood-dove its nest 'mid the foliage hath made,
+      Yet lone is that cottage, and desolate now.
+    For as the green forest, bereft of the dove,
+      No more with sweet echoes would musical be--
+    Even so is the rose-mantled bower of love,
+      Unblest and uncheered, if not gladdened by thee.
+
+
+
+
+A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM
+
+BY C. A. WASHBURN.
+
+
+I dreamed that for a long time I courted Charlotte--what need of
+dreaming? It was true. Nevertheless I dreamed that for a long time I
+courted Charlotte, and at last, which was not true, married her. And I
+thought that Charlotte and I lived very happily together.
+
+She loved me better than she ever thought she could before we were
+married, for I loved her exceedingly, and was very kind to her.
+
+I remember how long it was that I wooed her. Always hoping, though
+sometimes fearing that she would never love me so as to marry me; how,
+when at last we were married, and I carried her home to my pretty
+cottage, I could hardly contain myself for joy; and when I saw her
+seated in our own parlor on the wedding eve, I could not keep a tear
+from trickling down my cheek; and how she kissed away the tear, and
+when she knew the cause, how she burst into a flood of tears, and said
+she would love me the better for my having loved her so; and how that
+we were from that time wholly united in heart and sympathy.
+
+Then, in the course of time, we had two darling children, which we
+both loved--and I thought my cup of happiness completed. I had been an
+ambitious man in my youth, and had experienced much of the
+disappointment incident to a life for fame. But when God had given us
+two such lovely children, I thought it was abusing his mercy to
+neglect them for the applause of the world--and so devoted myself
+entirely to their welfare. If I worked hard and was inclined to feel
+peevish and cross, I thought how that I was laboring to make happy,
+and good, and great, the dear boys, and I forgot every thing else. If
+I became tired of the turmoil of life, I was the more happy when I got
+home, for the children were always waiting and glad to see me, and
+their presence immediately banished all anxiety and care. They seemed
+so happy when I came--for Charlotte used to teach them to prize my
+presence by dating their pleasures by my arrival; that I thought it
+joy enough for one mortal to have looked upon the impersonation of
+innocence and joy in his own children.
+
+Then, when the boys were asleep, how we used to talk about them; how
+anxious we were when either of them was restless or unquiet! How we
+used to reckon on the joy they would give us in age, and how in the
+happiness of our lot we shed tears of happines and joy! With what
+fervor did we unite in prayer for their health and preservation, and
+wish all the world as happy as we were. We became selfish in our joy,
+and felt to care little for any thing but home, and in our enjoyment
+of the gift we had like to have forgotten the Giver.
+
+But at length Charlie, the younger boy, was sick, and we feared he
+would die. We then remembered in whose hands his life was, and, I
+believe, ever after regarded our treasures as trusts committed to our
+keeping. Charlie suffered great pain, but he complained not. His very
+submission smote our hearts, and though we could not think he was to
+die, yet we thought he was too good to live. Benny could no longer
+smile upon us, but watched by his brother's bed without speaking or
+moving, unless to do him some service. We felt anxious about Charles,
+yet forbore to speak of our anxiety, though when he was asleep we
+could no longer conceal our sorrow and fears. And when one day the
+physician imprudently said in his hearing that he feared Charles would
+die, he looked at him in surprise, as if he had not thought of that;
+and kissing the fevered brow of his sick brother, he came and stood by
+his mother's side, and looking in her face as much as to say you wont
+let brother die, he saw a tear in the clear blue eye of his mother,
+and he sobbed aloud; and Charlotte could contain herself no longer,
+but dropped hot tears on his face faster than she could kiss them
+away. Then I feared if Charlie should die lest Benny should die too;
+and then I knew that Charlotte could not bear all this, and I prayed
+in my heart to God for Charles. And the next day, when the good
+physician said the danger was past, we felt to thank God that he had
+so chastened our affections, and ever loved him the more.
+
+So we lived in love and happiness for many years, and all that time
+not a shade of discord passed between us; and I often thought what a
+dreary world this had been to me if Charlotte had never been mine. I
+used to pity my bachelor neighbor, and, as I thought, I could see the
+tear of disappointment in his eye when he witnessed my happy lot. I
+saw it was a vision, and only the figure of Margaret, my once loved
+and pretty sister, who existed then but in the land of spirits, was
+before me.
+
+And I told Margaret of the vision, and could not repress a sigh that
+it was not reality; and musing long on what I was, and what I might
+have been had nature dealt with me more kindly, until the vision
+returned. Again I lived the life of youth's fancy.
+
+But the boys now began to mingle a little with the world, and we
+feared we were not equal to the task of educating them. We trembled
+when we thought of the dangers before them, though we could not
+believe it possible that they should ever do wrong. Alas! what trouble
+was before us!
+
+I had carried home a box of strawberries, and set them in the pantry,
+and setting myself down in the library, waited for Charlotte to come
+home from shopping. I saw Charlie come from the pantry, but thought
+nothing at the time, and when Benny came in, bade him bring them to me
+that I might divide them between them--they were gone; Charles must
+have taken them, for no one else had been in the pantry. I called him
+to me, and asked if he had taken them. I asked without concern, for I
+knew if he had, he did it supposing it to be right. He said, "No,
+sir." "Ah," said I, "you did." He then inquired what ones I meant, and
+I told him, and told him he must confess it, or I must punish him. But
+when I talked so seriously of punishment, he seemed confounded. He
+turned pale, and only said, "I did not do it." That was a trying
+moment; and when Charlotte came in, we considered long and anxiously
+what we ought to do. Should we let the theft go unpunished, and the
+falsehood to be repeated. Again we urged him to confess. The answer
+was still the same. There was no alternative but a resort to what I
+had prayed Heaven might spare me. I punished him severely, but he
+confessed not. I wished I had not begun, but now I must go on. I still
+increased the castigation, and it was only when I told him that I
+would stop when he owned the theft, and not before, that he confessed
+he had taken the berries.
+
+After this cruel punishment he went out and found Benny, who had been
+crying piteously all the time, and then my two boys went and hid
+themselves. I would have suffered the rack to have recalled that hour.
+It was too late. On going into the kitchen shortly after, I found a
+poor woman of the neighborhood with the box, which she said her
+thievish son had confessed he stole from the pantry. Perhaps some
+parents imagine the feelings of Charlotte and myself when we made this
+discovery. But they are few. The boys both shunned us, and we dreaded
+to see them. But at last we sent for them to come in, and they dared
+not refuse to obey. I took Charles in my arms. I asked him to forgive
+me; I told him who took the berries; I shed tears without measure; I
+begged him to forgive me--to kiss me as he was wont. He could not do
+it. It was cold and mechanical. His little heart seemed broke. Had he
+died I thought I could have borne it, but I could not endure this.
+When he slept he was fitful and troubled; ah! his troubles could not
+be greater than mine. I slept not that night; no, nor for many nights
+after that; but I watched him in his sleep, and many a hot tear did I
+drop on his cheek, which he wiped off as poison; and for many weeks I
+would rise several times every night, and go and gaze on his yet
+pretty face, on which was stamped the curse for my own cruel haste.
+
+In the midst of these sore trials, the lovely face of Margaret again
+appeared before me, and again the vision vanished into nothing. And I
+told her this part of the dream, and even then could not suppress a
+tear that it was a dream, and that the children of W---- could never
+have an existence or a name.
+
+Then the kind Margaret spoke words of comfort to me, and made me
+repress the half-formed feeling of discontent.
+
+"Have you not," said she, "said you would be satisfied for only one
+hour of the love of Charlotte?"
+
+"True," I replied, "and that dream was worth more than all my life
+before."
+
+"Have you not known in that the joys of a parent, and have you not
+seen what sorrows and trials might have been yours, from which you
+have now escaped? And do you now complain of your lot, W----? You know
+not the designs of Providence. Will not Charlotte be yours in the
+world to come?"
+
+"God grant it!" said I; "but where will be Benny and Charles? They can
+never be, and I shall die, and the flame of parental love will burn in
+me, and never can it have an object."
+
+"Hush you!" said Margaret, "cannot God give you in the other world
+those spirits of fancy? Did you not enjoy them in the dream, and
+cannot the same power make you enjoy them in Elysium? Is it nothing
+that God has done for you in showing you what might have been, and
+what can be _there_? Are you still ungrateful, and do you still
+distrust his goodness? Is it nothing that he has kept you from
+temptation, and that you have so clear a conscience? Will you not be
+worthy of Charlotte in heaven; and have you no gratitude for all this?
+Have you not dear friends still; and will not Margaret be a
+guardian-angel to you so long as you sojourn in this valley of tears?"
+
+"Ah!" said I, "I am blest beyond my deserts, and I will no more
+complain, but thank my heavenly Father for the dream-children he hath
+given me."
+
+I felt reproved by the words of Margaret, for I felt I had often
+indulged in useless repinings; and I determined I would do so no more,
+but patiently await my time to enjoy the loved ones, both real and
+ideal, in heaven. I again turned to speak to Margaret--but Margaret
+had vanished to the land of spirits, and I was alone, the solitary man
+I had long been. It was but a dream within a dream.
+
+
+
+
+PASSED AWAY.
+
+BY W. WALLACE SHAW.
+
+
+    With wearied step, and heavy heart,
+      O'erburdened with life's woes--
+    My soul bowed down with grief and care
+      The orphan only knows--
+    I strayed along old ocean's shore,
+    Where I had wandered oft before,
+      My grief to hide from men;
+
+    I listened--something seemed to say--
+      The joys that once did fill thy breast
+    Where, oh! where are they?
+      A voice that mingled with the roar
+      Of dashing waves against the shore,
+        In hollow tone, replied--
+        "They _bloomed_; and _died_!"
+
+
+
+
+AN EVENING SONG,
+
+BY PROFESSOR WM. CAMPBELL.
+
+[AN EXTRACT.]
+
+
+    Lyre of my soul, awake--thy chords are few,
+      Feeble their tones and low,
+    Wet with the morning and the evening dew
+      Of ceaseless wo.
+    The time hath been to me and thee, my lyre,
+        When soul of fire
+    Was ours, and notes and aspirations bold
+    Of higher hopes and prouder promise told--
+        Those days have flown--
+          Now we are old,
+            Old and alone!
+
+    Old in our youth--for sorrow maketh old,
+      And disappointment withereth the frame,
+      And harsh neglect will smother up the flame,
+    That else had proudly burned--and the cold
+      Offcasting of affection will repel
+    The warm life-current back upon the heart,
+      And choke it nigh to bursting--yet 't is well,
+    And wise-intended, that the venomed dart
+      Shall bear its sure and speedy remedy.
+      Why should the wretched wish to live? to be
+      One in this cold wide world--ever to feel
+      That others feel not--wounds that will not heal--
+    A bruised, though yet unbroken spirit's strife--
+    A waning and a wasting out of life--
+      A longing after loving--and the curse
+              To know
+    One's self unknown--
+      In secrecy a hopeless hope to nurse--
+        Down to the grave to go
+    Unloved--alone!
+
+    Yet not alone! Pardon, thou gentle breeze,
+      That comest o'er the waters with the tread
+      Of beauty stealing to the sufferer's bed,
+    To cool the burning brow, and whisper peace.
+    Pardon, ye sweet wild flow'rets, that each morn
+      Woo us to brush the dew-drop from the lid
+    Of tearful innocence, and meekly warn
+      Of worth in garb of lowliest texture hid.
+    Beings of gentlest life, ye murmuring streams,
+    Lull of our waking, music of our dreams,
+    Ye things of artless merriment, that throw
+    Around you gladness, wheresoe'er ye flow--
+    And ye dark mountains, down whose changeful sides
+    The mystic guardian, giant shadow strides,
+    Whose kindly frown, howe'er the storms prevail,
+    Peace and repose ensureth to the vale--
+    Ye tall proud forests, that forever sway
+    In kingly fury, or in graceful play--
+    Ye bright blue waters whose untiring drip
+      Against this island shore doth lightly break,
+    Gentle and noiseless as the parting lip
+      Of dreaming infant on its mother's cheek,
+    Pardon my rash averment--pardon, ye
+      Flow'rets and streamlets, mountains, woods and waves,
+    That pour into the soul a melody,
+      Like to the far down music of the caves
+    Of ocean, heard not, felt not, save within,
+    Seeking to joy the darker depths to win--
+      Oh! while your sweet and sacred voices steal
+        Into my spirit, as the joyous fall
+      Of the warm sunbeam on the frozen rill,
+        To wake the voice that slumbereth, and call
+          To bear you company
+    In your glad hymnings, let the wretched own
+        He cannot be
+              Alone!
+
+    Never alone!--awake, my soul--on high
+      The glorious sun his thousand rays has flung
+    Athwart the vaulted sky--
+      Lo! there the heavens their mighty harp have strung,
+        The gold, the silver and the crimson chord,
+        To hymn their evening hymn unto the Lord.
+    Hark! heard ye not that glorious burst of song,
+      Which, touched by hands unseen, those chords sent forth,
+    Bidding the attuned spheres the notes prolong
+      Deeper and louder, till the trembling earth
+        Catcheth the thrilling strain--
+        Echoeth back again--
+    From the bosom of ocean a voice
+    Pealeth forth, and the mountains rejoice
+    And the plains and the woods and the valleys rebound,
+    And the Universe all is a creature of sound,
+      That runneth his race
+      Through the infinite regions of infinite space,
+        Till arrived at the throne
+        Of HIM who alone
+    Is worthy of honor and glory and praise.
+
+    And it is ever thus--morn, noon and eve,
+      And in the still midnight, undying
+    Choirs of creation's minstrels weave
+      Sweet symphony of incense, vying
+    In wrapt intricacy of endless songs.
+      Ever, oh ever thus they sing,
+    But to our soul's dull ear belongs
+        Seldom the trancing sense
+      To list the universal worshiping,
+    Thrill with the glorious theme, and drink its eloquence.
+
+    Mocking all our soul's desiring,
+      Distant now the notes are stealing,
+    And the minstrels high reining,
+      Drapery blue their forms concealing.
+
+
+
+
+THE OCEAN-BURIED.
+
+COMPOSED, AND DEDICATED TO MISSES HARRIET AND MARY HALSEY,
+
+Of Blooming Grove, O. C., N. Y.,
+
+BY MISS AGNES H. JONES.
+
+
+=Andantino Soave=.
+
+
+[Illustration: music]
+
+   "Bury me not in the deep, deep sea." The words came faint and mournfully,
+   From the pallid lips of a youth who lay On the cabin couch where,
+
+[Illustration: music]
+
+    day by day, He had wasted and pined, till o'er his brow The death shade
+    had slowly pass'd, and now, When the land and his fond loved home were
+    nigh, They had gath'rd around to see him die.
+
+
+    Let my death-slumber be where a mother's prayer
+    And sister's tears can be blended there.
+    Oh, it will be sweet ere the heart's throb is o'er,
+    To know, when its fountain shall gush no more,
+    That those it so fondly has yearn'd for will come,
+    To plant the first wild-flower of spring on my tomb.
+    Let me lie where lov'd ones can weep over me--
+    Bury me not in the deep, deep sea!
+
+    And there is another, her tears would be shed
+    For him who lays far in an ocean bed;
+    In hours that it pains me to think of now,
+    She has twin'd these locks and kiss'd this brow--
+    In this hair she has wreathed shall the sea-snake hiss?
+    The brow she has press'd shall the cold wave kiss?
+    For the sake of that bright one that wails for me,
+    Bury me not in the deep, deep sea!
+
+    "She hath been in my dreams"--his voice failed short,
+    They gave no heed to his dying prayer.--
+    They have lowered him o'er the vessel's side--
+    Above him hath closed the solemn tide.
+    Where to dip her wing the wild fowl rests--
+    Where the blue waves dance with their foamy crests--
+    Where the billows bound and the winds sport free,
+    They have buried him there, in the deep, deep sea.
+
+
+
+
+REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.
+
+
+     _Calaynos: A Tragedy. By George H. Boker, E. H. Butler
+     & Co. Philadelphia, pp. 218._
+
+The spirit of English poetry has been for years eminently lyric; the
+few attempts at the epic or dramatic having been laid aside, if not
+permanently, at least for a time. The age has been too busy in working
+out, with machinery and steam, its own great epic thought, to find
+leisure to listen to any thing longer than a single bugle-blast
+encouraging its advancement. We cannot but believe, however, if we may
+be allowed an analogical inference, that the age is fast approaching
+the climax of its utilitarian inventions, and that man, instead of
+chasing through unknown regions every will-o-wisp of his brain, in the
+hope of bringing it a captive to the Patent-office, will sit modestly
+down to apply to their various uses the discoveries already made. Then
+will the healthy feast of literature once more begin, and the public
+cease to be surfeited by the watery hash which has been daily set
+steaming before them. In the volume under consideration we think we
+can discern the promise of the return of the good old spirit of
+English poetry--of solid honest thought expressed in straight forward
+Saxon. The story, which is one of the chivalrous days of Spain, while
+it is devoid of trick is full of thrilling interest, and its style,
+while it is eminently poetical, neither swells into bombast nor
+descends to the foppery so common among the verse-makers of our day.
+There is a stately, old-fashioned tread in the diction, as of a man in
+armor, who, should he attempt to gather flowers of mere prettiness,
+would crush them at the first touch of his iron gauntlet, and who, if
+he seems to move ungracefully at times, owes his motion to his weight
+of mail. Calaynos, the hero, is in every respect a nobleman, not only
+in blood, but what is better, in mind. He is a scholar, one who, in
+the words of Dona Alda his wife,
+
+      --uses time as usurers do their gold,
+    Making each moment pay him double interest.
+
+He is a philosopher--
+
+    Things nigh impossible are plain to him;
+    His trenchant will, like a fine-tempered blade,
+    With unturned edge, cleaves through the baser iron.
+
+He is generous and has
+
+      --a predetermined trust in man;
+
+and holds that
+
+    He who hates man must scorn the Source of man,
+    And challenge as unwise his awful Maker.
+
+The character of Dona Alda is noble and womanly--her chief trait being
+her great pride and jealous care of her honor. She conceives that no
+one will brave the
+
+      --peril, such as he must brook,
+    Who dares to love the wife of great Calaynos.
+
+Her maid, Martina, tells her that
+
+      --Queens of Spain
+    Have had their paramours--
+
+and she replies,
+
+      --So might it be,
+   _Yet never hap to bride of a Calaynos_!
+
+Don Luis, the villain of the plot, thus paints his own picture:
+
+      --I was not formed for good:
+    To what Fate orders I must needs submit:
+    The sin not mine, but His who made me thus--
+    Not in my will but in my nature lodged.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+    I will grasp the stable goods of life,
+    Nor care how foul the hand that does the deed.
+
+Martina is admirably drawn; her wit is excellent, and as exhaustless
+as it is keen. She says of Calaynos--
+
+    He looks on pleasure as a kind of sin,
+    Calls pastime waste-time----
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+    I heard a man, who spent a mortal life
+    In hoarding up all kinds of stones and ores,
+    Call one, who spitted flies upon a pin,
+    A fool to pass his precious lifetime thus.
+
+She says of Oliver, Calayno's secretary,
+
+    Yes, there he goes--
+    Backward and forward, like a weaver's shuttle,
+    Spinning some web of wisdom most divine.
+
+She addresses him thus--
+
+    Our clay, the preachers say, was warmed to life;
+    But yours, your dull, cold mud, was froze to being.
+    _I would not be the oyster that you are
+    For all the pearls of wisdom in your shell!_
+
+All the persons of the play are vivid and life-like. With the
+beginning of the third act the interest becomes intense, and nothing
+could be more vigorous and touching than the action and depth of
+pathos toward the close of the piece. Every page teems with fine
+thoughts and images, which lead us to believe that the mine from which
+this book is a specimen, contains a golden vein of poetry which will
+go far to enrich our native literature.
+
+
+     _Literary Sketches and Letters: Being the Final
+     Memorials of Charles Lamb, Never before Published. By
+     Thomas Noon Talfourd. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1
+     vol. 12mo._
+
+The present work is important in more respects than one. It was needed
+to clear up the obscurity which rested on several points of Lamb's
+life, and it was needed to account for some of the peculiarities of
+his character. The volume proves that this most genial and kindly of
+humorists was tried by as severe a calamity as ever broke down the
+energies of a great spirit, and the frailties commonly associated with
+his name seem almost as nothing compared with the stern duties he
+performed from his early manhood to his death. The present volume is
+calculated to increase that personal sympathy and love for him, which
+has ever distinguished the readers of Lamb from the readers of other
+authors, and also to add a sentiment of profound respect for his
+virtues and his fortitude. The truth is that Lamb's intellect was one
+of the largest and strongest, as well as one of the finest, among the
+great contemporary authors of his time, and it was altogether owing to
+circumstances, and those of a peculiarly calamitous character, that
+this ample mind left but inadequate testimonials of its power and
+fertility. He is, and probably will be, chiefly known as an original
+and somewhat whimsical essayist, but his essays, inimitable of their
+kind, were but the playthings of his intellect.
+
+Talfourd has performed his editorial duties with his usual taste and
+judgment, and with all that sweetness and grace of expression which
+ever distinguishes the author of Ion. His sketches of Lamb's
+companions are additions to the literary history of the present
+century. Lamb's own letters, which constitute the peculiar charm of
+the book, are admirable--the serious ones being vivid transcripts of
+his moods of mind, and some of them almost painful in their direct
+expression of agony, and the semi-serious rioting in mirth, mischief
+and whim, full of wit and meaning, and full also of character and
+kindliness. One of his early letters he closes, as being from his
+correspondent's "afflicted, headachey, sore-throatey, humble servant."
+In another he calls Hoole's translation of Tasso "more vapid than
+smallest small beer, 'sun-vinegared.'" In speaking of Hazlitt's
+intention to print a political pamphlet at his own expense, he comes
+out with a general maxim, which has found many disciples: "The first
+duty of an author, I take it, is never to pay any thing." When Hannah
+More's Coelebs in Search of a Wife appeared, it was lent to him by a
+precise lady to read. He thought it among the poorest of common
+novels, and returned it with this stanza written in the beginning:
+
+    If ever I marry a wife
+      I'd marry a landlord's daughter,
+    For then I may sit in the bar,
+      And drink cold brandy-and-water.
+
+In speaking of his troubles toward the close of his life, he has a
+strange, humorous imagination, in every way worthy of his peculiar
+genius: "My bedfellows are cough and cramp; _we sleep three in a
+bed_."
+
+The present volume is elegantly printed, and will doubtless have a
+run. It is full of matter, and that of the most interesting kind. No
+reader of Lamb, especially, will be without it.
+
+
+
+     _Modern French Literature. By L. Raymond de Vericour.
+     Edited by W. S. Chase, A. M. Boston: Gould, Kendall &
+     Lincoln. 1 vol. 12mo._
+
+This work is the English production of a native Frenchman, and was
+written for one of Chambers's series of books for the people. It is
+edited, with notes alluding particularly to writers prominent in the
+late French Revolution, by a young American scholar, who has recently
+resided in France. The book, though deficient and sometimes incorrect
+in details, deserves much praise for its general correctness and
+accuracy. The author, though by no means a critic of the first class,
+is altogether above the herd of Grub street hacks who commonly
+undertake the popularizing of literary history. He is no Winstansley
+and no Cibber. The range of his reading appears to be extensive. His
+judgments are somewhat those of a school-master, but one of the
+highest grade. There are several amusing errors relating to the
+position of English authors, to some of which we cannot help alluding,
+as they seem to have escaped the vigilant eye of the editor. Speaking
+of Guizot and Sismondi as the leaders of the school of French
+philosophical historians, he remarks that "the English language
+possesses some good specimens of this class of history; the most
+remarkable are Gibbon's Decline and Fall and the works of Mr. Millar."
+This is as if the author had said that England possessed some good
+specimens of the Romantic Drama, the most remarkable being
+Shakspeare's Macbeth and the works of Mr. Colman.
+
+Again, in speaking of the novels of Paul de Kock, and protesting
+against those English critics who call him the first writer of his
+time and country, he says that it is as ridiculous as it would be in
+Frenchmen to exalt the novels of Charles Dickens above Ivanhoe,
+_Philip Augustus_ and Eugene Aram, The idea of a Frenchman thinking it
+a paradox to rank Dickens above James, or even Bulwer, shows how
+difficult it is for a foreigner, especially a Frenchman, to pass
+beyond the external form of English literature.
+
+The author deserves the praise of being a sensible man, in the English
+meaning of the phrase. There is one sentence in his introductory
+which proves that his mind has escaped one besetting sin of the French
+intellect, which has prevented its successful cultivation of politics
+as a practical science. In speaking of the histories of Thiers and
+Mignet, he says that they "have hatched a swarm of _Jeunes Prances_,
+vociferating in their wild aberrations, emphatic eulogies on Marat,
+Coulhon and Robespierre, and breathing a love of blood and
+destruction, which they call the progressive march of events."
+
+
+     _Rise and Fall of Louis Philippe, Ex-King of the
+     French, Giving a History of the French Revolution from,
+     its Commencement in 1789. By Benj. Perley Poore,
+     Boston: Wm. D. Ticknor & Co. 1 vol. 12mo._
+
+Of all the publications we have seen relating to Louis Philippe this
+is the most complete and the most agreeable. The author, from his long
+residence in Paris, and from his position as Historical Agent of the
+State of Massachusetts, was enabled to collect a large mass of matter
+relating to French history, and also to learn a great deal respecting
+the Orleans dynasty, which would not naturally find its way into
+print. The present volume, though it has little in relation to the
+first French Revolution not generally known by students, embodies a
+large number of important facts respecting Louis Philippe, which we
+believe are now published for the first time. The biography itself has
+the interest of a romance, for few heroes of novels ever were, in
+imagination, subjected to the changes of fortune which Louis
+encountered in reality. Mr. Poore's view of his character is not more
+flattering than that which commonly obtains--on both sides of the
+Atlantic. To sustain this disparaging opinion of his subject, however,
+he is compelled to suppose policy and hypocrisy as the springs of many
+actions which a reasonable charity would pronounce virtuous and
+humane. It must be conceded that the conduct of the king during the
+last few days of his reign was feeble, if not cowardly, but his
+uniform character in other periods of his life was that of a man
+possessing singular readiness and coolness in times of peril, and
+encountering obstacles with a courage as serene as it was adventurous.
+
+
+     _The Tenant of Wildfield Hall. By Acton Bell, Author of
+     Wurthuring Heights.. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1
+     vol. 12mo._
+
+The appearance of this novel, so soon after the publication of
+Wurthuring Heights, is an indication of Mr. Bell's intention to be a
+frequent visiter, or visitation, of the public. We are afraid that the
+personages he introduces to his readers will consist chiefly of one
+class of mankind, and this class not the most pleasing. He is a
+monomaniac on the subject of man's rascality and brutality, and crowds
+his page with forcible delineations of offensive characters and
+disgusting events. The power he displays is of a high but limited
+order, and is exercised chiefly to make his readers uncomfortable. To
+be sure the present novel is not so bad as Wurthuring Heights in the
+matter of animal ferocity and impish diabolism; but still most of the
+characters, to use a quaint illustration of an eccentric divine, "are
+engaged in laying up for themselves considerable grants of land in the
+bottomless pit," and brutality, blasphemy and cruelty constitute their
+stock in trade. The author is not so much a delineator of human life
+as of inhuman life. There are doubtless many scenes in The Tenant of
+Wildfield Hall drawn with great force and pictorial truth, and which
+freeze the blood and "shiver along the arteries;" but we think that
+the author's process in conceiving character is rather logical than
+imaginative, and consequently that he deals too much in unmixed
+malignity and selfishness. The present novel, with all its peculiar
+merits, lacks all those elements of interest which come from the
+generous and gentle affections. His champagne enlivens, but there is
+arsenic in it.
+
+
+     _Brothers and Sisters. By Frederika Bremer. Translated
+     by Mary Howitt. New York: Harper & Brothers._
+
+This is by no means one of Miss Bremer's best productions, but it is
+not on that account a commonplace production. The pathos, the
+cheerfulness, the elevation, the sweet humane home-feeling of the
+Swedish novelist, are here in much of their old power, with the
+addition of universal philanthropy and the rights of labor. But we
+fear that the original vein of our authoress is exhausted, and that
+she is now repealing herself. It is a great mistake to suppose that a
+new story, new names of characters, additional sentiments nicely
+packed in new sentences, make a new novel, when the whole tone and
+spirit of the production continually reminds the reader of the
+authors previous efforts. It is no depreciation of Miss Bremer's
+really fine powers to assert, that she lacks the creative energy of
+Scott, or the ever active fancy and various observation of Dickens.
+
+
+     _Grantley Manor. By Lady Georgiana Fullerton. New York:
+     D. Appleton & Co. 1 vol. 12mo._
+
+This is altogether one of the finest novels which have appeared for
+many years. It is written with much beauty of style; evinces a
+creative as well as cultivated mind, and contains a variety of
+characters which are not only interesting in themselves, but have a
+necessary connection with the plot and purpose. The mind of the author
+has that combination of shrewdness and romantic fervor, of sense and
+passion, so necessary to every novelist who desires to idealize
+without contradicting the experience of common life.
+
+
+EDITOR'S TABLE.
+
+To the readers of "Graham."--A series of misfortunes having bereft me
+of any proprietory interest in this Magazine, the present publishers
+have made a liberal arrangement with me, and for the future, the
+editorial and pictorial departments of Graham's Magazine will be under
+the charge of Joseph R. Chandler, Esq., J. Bayard Taylor, Esq., and
+myself.
+
+It is due to the subscribers to "Graham" from me, to state, that from
+the first hour I took charge of it, the warmest support and
+encouragement were given me, and from two not very profitable
+magazines "Graham" sprung at once into boundless popularity and
+circulation. Money, as every subscriber knows, was freely expended
+upon it, and an energy untiring and sleepless was devoted to its
+business management, and had I not, in an evil hour, forgotten my own
+true interests, and devoted that capital and industry to another
+business which should have been confined exclusively to the magazine,
+I should to-day have been under no necessity--not even of writing this
+notice.
+
+I come back to my first love with an ardor undiminished, and an energy
+not enervated, with high hopes and very bold purposes. What can be
+done in the next three years, time, that great solver of doubts, must
+tell. What a daring enterprize in business can do, I have already
+shown in Graham's Magazine and the North American--and, alas! I have
+also shown what folly can do, when business is forgotten--but I can
+yet show the world that he who started life a poor boy, with but eight
+dollars in his pocket, and has run such a career as mine, is hard to
+be put down by the calumnies or ingratitude of any. Feeling,
+therefore, that having lost one battle, "there is time enough to win
+another," I enter upon the work of the "redemption of Graham," with
+the very confident purposes of a man who never doubted his ability to
+succeed, and who asks no odds in a fair encounter.
+
+                                                      GEO. R. GRAHAM.
+
+
+An Acquisition.--Our readers will share in the pleasure with which it
+is announced, that JOSEPH R. CHANDLER, Esq., the accomplished writer,
+and former editor of "_The United States Gazette_," will hereafter be
+"_one of us_" in the editorial management of Graham's Magazine. There
+are few writers in the language who equal, and none excel Mr. Chandler
+in graceful and pathetic composition. His sketches live in the hearts
+of readers, while they are heart-histories recognized by thousands in
+every part of the laud. An article from Mr. Chandler's pen may be
+looked for in every number, and this will cause each number to be
+looked for anxiously.
+
+
+Editors Looking Up.--It is expected that an early number of "Graham"
+will be graced with a portrait of our distinguished rival of the
+"Lady's Book," that gentleman having "in the handsomest manner," as
+they say in theatricals, sat for a picture of his goodly countenance
+and proportions. At our command this has been transferred to steel, to
+be handed over to the readers of "Graham," by Armstrong, an artist
+whose ability is a fair warrant for a fine picture. Now if any of our
+fair readers fall in love with Godey, we shall take it as a formal
+slight, and shall insist upon having our face _run_ through an edition
+of a magazine, to be gazed at and loved by thousands of as fine
+looking people as can be crowded upon a subscription book.
+
+
+W. E. TUCKER, ESQ.--We are very much gratified to be able to state,
+that an arrangement has been made by the proprietors of "Graham" with
+Mr. W. E. Tucker, whose exquisite title-pages and other gems in the
+way of engraving are familiar to our readers, and that _for the year
+1849, he engraves exclusively for Graham's Magazine_.
+
+This is but the beginning of arrangements proposed to revive the
+original splendor of the pictorial department of this magazine, while
+the literary arrangements are in the same style of liberality which
+has ever distinguished "Graham." "There is a good time a-coming boys"
+in 1849.
+
+
+Sketches From Europe.--In the present absorbing state of affairs
+abroad, it will please our readers to know, that we have engaged an
+accomplished writer to furnish sketches of European manners, events
+and society, such as escape the daily journals, for the pages of the
+magazine. These sketches will occasionally be illustrated with
+engravings of scenery and persons taken on the spot, and cannot fail
+to add to the value of "Graham."
+
+
+Gems From Late Readings.--We shall introduce into the next number of
+Graham a department which we think cannot fail to be of interest, by
+selections from authors which it is not possible for all the readers
+of Graham to have seen. Culling such passages as may strike us in our
+reading as worthy of wide circulation and preservation.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine Vol XXXIII No. 4
+October 1848, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, OCTOBER 1848 ***
+
+***** This file should be named 30116.txt or 30116.zip *****
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+
+
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+
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