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Chapter 3 No.3

Word Count: 55536    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

eel it and succumb, for I was well assured, that if such a one could be won, she was worth winning. I shuddered when I reflected how few hours had elapsed since she had been

othes and some few trinkets, and a small sum of money, which beyond dispute was her own, it being found in a desk on which her name was engraved, and of which she had the key. That

o foresee his death, there can be no doubt that he would not have forgotten to make due provision fo

Fosseux, nor ever expected anything; our connection was free from all pecu

innocent as it was, an expression of archness would occasionally flit and vanish again into one of softness and repose. An acute physiognomist, perhaps, might have been led to suspect, from the form of the mouth and the compression of the lips, that the repose of Mademoiselle d'Ermay's features was the result of a strong will and a haughty spirit rather than a natural quality. Be that as it may, to eyes untutored in that science this slight sym

ecessity I was under of setting out that very night for Versailles, whither my duty called me, and would detain me for some time. I was even on the point of resigning my commission; and but for the Prince de Beauveau, I really believe I should have added this to the already pretty long list of my follies. Mere chance, however, enabled me to make my stay at Versailles serviceab

aughter of her mother's care, when an old aunt brought her desolate condition under the notice of the Archbishop of Paris, by whose recommendation and influence she was placed in a convent in this capital, and received the usual education of a nun, which, though it failed to stifle generous

sinterestedness, and may thence infer how faithful and devoted a friend she is cap

th her, avowed his sentiments, and won her heart. Nothing was easier than to elope from the convent, as M. de Fosseux proposed; but the young lady at once rejected so romantic a mode of proceeding, and went to the superior and simply demanded her liberty. It might have been expected that she would be asked what she was about to do, and whether s

I, "your friend is,

had too much experience of convent life ever to go there again; but I believe she has some secret but honorable resource which affords her a dece

rved her for kitchen, and the one in which she received me was simply, and would have appeared poorly, furnished, but for the exquisite cleanliness and neatness, which gave it an air of elegance. After due inquiries concerning her health, I proceeded t

"to see you in such

," said she, "with my slender m

in which many succeed; but to efface the recollection of so bloody a catastrophe, whilst pressing my suit in perhaps the self-same well-remembered words and expressions of its lamented victim, seemed so all but hopeless an undertaking, that it required the stimulus of the most ardent passion not to shrink from it in despair. I had, however, some chances in my favor; I was young, though some years older than Mademoiselle d'Ermay; and as time has now shorn me of personal attractions, I may perhaps be allowed to boast that I was considered a good-looking fellow; finally, in the eyes of such a woman as I then loved, I had one special recommendation-I was poor. Now Mademoiselle d'Ermay, though caring little for the conventional rules of society, was scrupulous to the last degree in all that related to sentiment, generosity and disinterestedness, insomuch that the only circumstance which annoyed her in her connexion with M.

ur passion. Love can no more find entrance into my bosom, and you

ur friends, diamonds, or such valuables as tempt the plunderer, but to renounce love at your age, and with your beauty, that were indeed too much, especially when you have inspired such a passion as mine; and oh! consider the diffic

rance, I succeeded in weakening her objections, and in satisfying her scruples, and she consented to receive my addresses. She eve

are lavish of oaths-if I accept them, I shall look on them as binding. Is there not some ancient poet who says

e all the oaths his mistress seems to doubt? Where is he who would hesitate to swear that h

nd remained for some moments in an attitude of deep and silent admiration. A

e Beauveau, when Mademoiselle d'Ermay undertook the management of my affairs, called on my creditors in person, examined their claims, obtained time for payment, struck out usurious demands; and, when my brother at length thought proper to come to my aid, paid the stipulated sums to each with such business-like accuracy, that my creditors gave me no further trouble, and in a very short space of time I was completely free from all claims and incumbrances. She held that a gentleman's word should be his bond, and that no other security ought to be necessary or required. When I reflected on the change which had taken place in the course of my life, and on the growing ascendancy which Eugenie exercised over me, and when I saw my foolish fancies and ill-formed plans give way, as they continually did, before the influence of her firm and well-regulated mind, I blushed to think how poor a figure I made, and what a mere puppet I was in the hands of a clever but imperious woman. Far from seeing love in all the care she bestowed upon me, I saw only a spirit of domination which hurt my pride. Even Zephirine, the opera-dancer, deceiving and abandoning me as she did at the very moment when I was harassed by debts contracted for and by her, had less deeply wounded my self-love than did Mademoiselle d'Ermay in thus devoting hersel

f you resume service you must be less with me, and it is not

at livings and rich abbeys, did not think themselves at all called upon to reside on their several preferments, but lived in Paris and about the court, where their course of life was not always strictly evangelical. One of them, whose name I shall not mention, as it is not material to my story, had remarked Mademoiselle d'Ermay. What had particularly taken his fancy, as he said in a letter which Eugenie put into my h

"trying to wean Elmire from the gallants of the court, by of

this right reverend gentleman pleased me, I could never stoop to such a mere bargaining as this; but I lov

ition in life; yet at the same time I knew she had nothing, for her father was not dead, as Madame de T. supposed, and had never sent her a single sou. I

ecome necessary to me. What would have become of me if Eugenie had accepted the offers of that libertine priest and left me! So in the middle of the night I mounted my horse and went back to Paris. I found her, as usual, thinking of me, and hoping, if not expecting, my speedy return. I then took to play, but its chances failed to excite me.

e avaricious, Mademoiselle d'Ermay had taught me to know the value of money. I had known poverty and endured most of its attendant privations

s to finish the story he has begun, and who, having disclosed one half of his secret, has some misg

ing whether I ought not to require you to swear that you will never reveal to any mortal ear what I am about to relate (the perspiration stood in la

wen

said I to myself, "should I not be able to love this pretty girl whom they propose I should marry? She is, perhaps, even handsomer than Mademoiselle d'Ermay; and who knows but she may love as well, and without subjecting me to that sort of sway I feel so onerous?" I reflected, too, on the false position in which I was placed. I lived with a mistress, of whom I was not the first lover, but only the second. Nevertheless, I knew Mademoiselle d'Ermay's character so well, was so fully assured of her inviolate fidelity, and still felt so much attached to her, that I could not make up my mind one way or the other, and was in a most lamentable state of indecision. I had without much difficulty thus far concealed from her the death of my brother; but if I absented myself and went into Dauphiné, though only just to look at the lady proposed for my wife, she would guess all, and, on my return, my contemplated abandonment would be repaid by her taking leave of me for ever. Some plausible pretext for leaving her was therefore necessary-a mission, or something of the sort, from government, on business in the north of France, whilst I hastened to the south, and tried to find in the love beaming from other eyes a release from that which had hitherto chained me to Paris. The absolute necessity of concealing this new secret made me a totally different man to what I was wont to be. I became moody and abstracted; and, whilst brooding in silence over my own t

u, Eugeni

u know me? I am not chan

same woman. Her very voice was alter

Eugenie!

hts of my mind were written on my forehead; and the first words

fair, unhappy it is true, but pure of heart and discreet in conduct. I might, like my companions, have taken the veil and passed my life in a cloister, without either pain or pleasure. M. de Fosseux saw me, and fell in love with me. You can never know what p

coming, but merely for the purpose of saying a few words to calm her

confiding in the honor of the man I love with a feeling of security, which is at once my joy and my pride; faithful, I never asked but for faith; and, poor as I am, have I not rejected offers to be rich? Thus much then have I done for you and for M. de Fosseux; but M. de Fosseux deceived me; he ceased to love me, he was in treaty for a wealthy bride, and, cowardly as perfidious, heaped upon me the outward signs and tokens of a love he no longer felt; and why? Because he wished not to abandon me till the last moment-because he wished to deceive me until he could no longer wear a mask. This, marquis, was what M. de Fosseux intended to do, and this was what he would have d

t more fierce expression, her voice became hoarser, her gestures more violent, and, with her i

knew not what. No, never did Clairon, nor Dusmenil, nor your Siddons, whom I had seen some years before in England, so freeze my

whom are you speakin

pable of a similar crime-of such base perfidy? Do you imagine it to be possible

I again; "No! I will ne

quis?" retorted she sharply; "I

emed in combination to deceive me. I would have given all I was

at my feet-myself stretched in the gory mire of the Place Beauveau-the dagger yet in the dead man's breast-the blood with which I was covered-my cries, my tea

ud cry, and was about to rush out

one I struck the traitor

rings, and a gold watch, rolled glittering on the floor, and seemed to hem me in on all sides with their sparkl

as a coward; many is the time I have boldly faced danger, and have, too, exposed my life through mere fool-hardiness; but a man may have courage, yet not all

troubled sleep, in which I had been haunted by some fearful dream. Mademoiselle d'Ermay was at my side, with her sweet countenance, her words of love, and her ten

were ill, and remain there alone and without help! Oh, my friend! however troublesome you may think me, I will never

n, and replaced my head on the pillow. Ah! said she to hersel

little blood this spring time?-yet you would not be prevailed on to follow it. Your physician himself says that one bl

ad diligently followed this scent, and, after tracing them to various haunts, at last succeeded in capturing both; but they proved, most clearly and incontestably, that they were both at Ronen on the night of the murder, and all the other researches of the police had been in vain. Knowing all these circumstances as I did, they now recurred to my mind in such force as to bring on a fresh attack and another fit, which had obliged them again to call in my surgeon. What he found it necessary to do I know not; I only know that the result was long doubtful, and that nothing could equal the sorrow and assiduous care of Mademoiselle d'Ermay so long as that doubt lasted. At length I came to myself.... She was at the foot of my bed, and in that sort of half-sleep which will sometimes overtake even the most wakeful and indefatigable nurses. I but partly opened my eyes, and carefully avoided making the slightest noise or movement. Her head rested on one of her hands, leaving somewhat more than the side-face and her fair cheek, now blanched by anxiety and watching, and the beautiful hair that hung in clustering curls over her white forehead, open to my view. Sleep often betrays our most secret thoughts, and the stuff of which dreams are made is sometimes revealed by involuntary movements. I narrowly watched her countenance; but no, there was nothing-she slept as calmly as a child. "She! she!" said I to myself-"she commit a murder! Could that white and delicate hand grasp a poniard, and strike the man she loved a

e, "do not laugh at me; you know I cannot bear to see even a chicken killed." I had, indeed, remarked that, though in housekeeping affairs she was always active and vigilant, she never went into the kitchen. I was in a dreadful state of uncertainty, for, in spite of all my reasonings on the subject, there was still th

ng his narrative for a moment, "demanded

eans sure of my own sanity, and Mademoiselle d'Ermay wou

monly take their color from his waking thoughts, I have discovered, whilst listening to the indistinct mutterings which fell from you

ried I, in a

ngs towards you now,-you do me that justice; but yo

x! for God's sake, Eugenie,

d that from the first moment of our connection, I never mentioned or alluded to M. de Fosseux,-you must have made me forget him. Oh! believe me, my chevalier, I swear-and you know how sacred I hold an oath

ptible cloud did rest for an instant on her calm brow, it was easily accounted for by her anxiety for me. At length one morning I awoke

mist

moise

oiselle; wh

hurch; it is Sunday,"

church of St. Roch, as she never faile

that I saw, scattered before me on the floor of my study. But no, there was nothing of the sort. Was it, then, a dream-a frightful illusion, and the mere forerunner of my illness? By some strange contradiction, or some magnetic power which a strong will exercises over a feeble one, I felt that I loved Eugenie a hundred times better than ever, and crawled back again to my bed, convinced that I had been mistaken, and the victim of a fearful dream. I then considered the case in another point of view, and asked myself whether, even supposing Mademoiselle d'Ermay to be guilty, she had not some excuse for her crime? What could be more base and dishonorable than to abandon so fond and devoted a woman? Had not M. de Fosseux deserved his fate? And I, who had entertained the same design, and had been on the point of committing the very same act of treachery, and for the very sa

moiselle d'Ermay returned from church. She ca

I, "I have muc

r; you are still too w

lear, and my delirium past; so listen.

e to congratulate you on your acces

ings; one is to go for a time to my estate in Dauphiné, and the other to get married. Sure

dead), "and especially the Princess Elizabeth, his majesty's sister, are very strait in

eek we wer

your wife?"

g for her, and shall continue t

d my marriage was not blamed; on the contrary, it was approved. It was an event which every body seemed to have expected, and, taking place, as it did as soon as I became rich, was voted to be alike honorable to Madem

merly to go sometimes to the

arquise

e boards who attracted my attention: she was cal

t for your recalling her to my mind I

e indulgence and her own indolence she neglected her dancing-a talent soon lost without constant practice-and she has grown fat and lost her agility. The Engli

ination of her manners, that she conceived the warmest affection for her, and no mother-in-law ever loved a daughter better. My good fortune excited some jealousy, and the beauty of my wife much admiration. A gentleman in the neighborhood fell in love with her, and was bold enough to declare his passion; she instantly, and without th

whilst we were in Dauphiné, and I wished to return without delay to Paris; but my wife dissuaded me. "You are no longer in the army," said she; "you left it

well I did so, for we passed in peace and retirement that period which was so fatal

e Marigny), I have been led through life by my wife; but she strewed the path with flowers, whilst the circumstance which, as it were, compelled me to marry her saved me from th

of mind to control your imagination and to become thoroughly conv

to that moment enjoyed invariable good health, and though she was upwards of fifty, her smile retained all its sweetness

he to me one day, "and I have some few requests t

ll my former oaths, and which, considering our long attachm

ace and tranquillity, end your days where your father and mother died and are buried; and, that you may have no inducement to remain in Paris or ever return to it, sell your

going to die amidst the tombs of my ancestors and of mingling my ashes with theirs, a feeling of piety which melted me to tears. Eugenie, once feeling as

just and merciful. He pardons the repenta

a wish to that effect, and I persuaded myself that if she could now see me she would approve of the change in my resolution. When I had once made up my mind to remain in Paris, it was no longer requisite or convenient to sell my house; and to tell you the truth, I was very desirous to keep it. I had inhabited it from my youth; I had improved and embellished it, and it recalled to my remembrance the only woman that I had ever sincerely loved. My whole life had been spent in it; in it had been acted the whole drama of my existence, and there was not a corner nor a piece of furniture in it which did not awaken some thought or recollection. I resolved then to live and die in Paris. But, my friend, though our dwellings of brick and mortar are more durable than those of our own mortal clay, they, nevertheless, from time to time require repair, or they would fall into a state of utter dilapidation. Several months ago, my people told me that some tiling was wanted to the roof, and that the floor

; "then she had kill

d man

usehold

T'S DAUGHTER.

R THE

sentially to your comfort. Without it, it is impossible that you sho

s son, Cuthbert, just t

her who sitteth upon the throne, to that of the handmaiden who grindeth behind the mill, can frugality-in other words, system and self-denial as

written, as if God would mark his contempt of mere material riches by the hands into which he suffers them to fall. Although, fall where they will, and on whom they will,

tler affirms to be the indispensable condition upon which it has pleased our Creator that we should hold our being:-that of controlling our own action

rge many-windowed house, which, fronted with handsome iron rails round the area, is built of fine brick, and ornamented with abundan

several places, they are falling into tatters. His face-the features of which are very finely cut, and still bear the traces of a once very remarkable b

tattered boy cheerily whistling over his work-now and then casting up his eyes at the closed windows of the handsome house, upon which the beams of the rising su

d, as he casts his eyes first upwards, then downwards, th

should arise "with healing on its wings"-is diffusing the cheering effulgence of the dawn, calling forth the fresh

pours, for a few short moments, its fresh, crisp, cheering airs into the closest and most noisome of her quarters. He cares not for that delicious brightness whic

eshing stillness of the hour, to do with him? He only lifts up his eyes to examine a house: he only casts them

in the very depths of his moral degradation and suffering-the seeds of better things might be germinating.

ir cans against area rails; butcher-boys swinging their trays. Presently were heard, immediately below where the man was sitting, the sounds of awakening life;-unlocking of doors, opening of windows, the pert voices of the women servants, and the surly responses of the men; shutters above began to be unfolde

n casting a wistful glance backwards at the house, unt

lace which once

et seemed mechanically to direct his footsteps towards the north. At length, he slowly entered one of the larger streets in the neighborhood of Portland Place. His attention was excited by a bustle at the door of one of the houses, and he looked up. There was a fun

oked at the effigies of death, and at death itself, hundreds and hundreds of times, with neglige

t dreadful curiosity, he staggered, rather than walked forward; supporting himself as he went agains

of the longest, clearest, and quickest sights that I ever remember

Wins

une 29

wenty-

uld no longer support him. He

thought; and they were about to call a policeman, and bid him take charge of him; when a lady,

len down, as I take it, in a fit, or something of the sort. Policeman, hadn't

n here. Mr. Pearson is in the house, and

othly under her bonnet-cap; her black silk cloak still hung upon her shoulders; her bonnet rested upon a pole screen in the dining-room. It seemed by this that she was not a regular inhabitant of the house in which she exercised authority. Nothing could be more gentle and kind than the expression of

s the house apothecary. Whilst waiting for him, she stood with her eyes fixed upon the face of the stranger; and

ng the proceedings of those without, until the arrangements of a very simple funeral were terminated, and the little procession,

eturned to the sofa, showed that she

y-a beauty, however, arising rather from their form and color, than from their expression, which was more painful than interesting. Again t

a dreamy and unsettled look. He seeme

oubts. His eyes met hers; and, as they d

nd what is it?

il you are able to be removed," said the lady. "I

did no

wish to be sent f

he ans

you would wish

thi

e time, with his eyes

aid, "Tell m

rength enough to proceed to the place to which you w

ut what hou

for the reception of

! what

ho have no

of charit

rtl

g creature, whose funeral-Do you

gravity, approaching to sever

did she c

given up what little money she had to supply the wants-perhaps-who knows?-t

the charity; she r

o submit herself t

ing between bitterness and contempt at t

father?" sa

a

very wretched

lied, "I am m

h might have produced a rich harvest of happi

ul recoiled at his aspect: she saw nothing

ived," he

ow

yself. If pleasure be but the forerunner of satiety-if life be but a cheat-if delight be but the precursor of misery-a delusion of flat

r conscience at the very moment you utter them disclaims. She who is gone-a broken-hearted victim of

a tone that

pray

my other daughter?-

lieve, about tw

alone in

no child

into the street?" he suddenl

ed to the assistance of sick and helpless

icked up out of some kennel by the police. You would have don

hout rep

g with agony? Ella! Ella! if I could only have kept my Ella, she would

rescued her from your heartless selfishness." To herself she added-for her heart was glo

e with me than you are," he sai

e felt only for you-I h

I nev

ev

rue," said

R THE

Winsta

me of goodness, is Julian Winstanley? A name of some pr

ame from. This bird of gay plumage was hatched in a dusky hole and corner of th

ung fellow as ever was

ing of Hogarth's picture of the 'Miser's Heir.' What say you to him, Blake, with your con

well as other things; but I am not in the humor for preac

at Oxford easily, Penrose says, if he would)-or because he has got countless heaps of gold at his banker's; and nobody to ask him a why or a wherefore; may do, in all things, just what he likes-or because he can drink like a fish, dance like Vestris, ride lik

ing. The reasons are too obv

billiards. To-morrow he goes to the ball at Bicester; and see if he does not beat us all at dancing there,

for aught I know," said the philosophe

pale, affected young man, who stood by, and was grandson to an earl; "

here is of difference after all; and, in my opinion, it lies in the tradition. Wealth and distinction are like old wine, the better for keeping. Time adds a value, mello

"A fig for your philosophy!" reso

ked on with his qui

tity, has no effect upon them; never renders their heads unsteady-was never known to do so. But you must allow me to pity Julian Winstanley;

ely dressed than the occasion required. Julian Winstanley was, undoubtedly. It had been his mother's i

him waltzing with a very pretty girl, who is, upon her side, exquisitely dressed also. She wears the fairest of white tulles, and the richest of white satins, and has a bouquet of the flowers from the choicest

ce of fashion, and fashion is all-powerful. So Julian, who is only starting in the career of extravagance, and in its golden age of restless profusion, and far removed, as yet, from that iron age which usually succeeds it-namely, that of selfish covetousness-is quite prepared to cast himself at her feet-which with a little good manage

on found innumerable new opportunities for spending money. He became a prey to imaginary necessities. His carriages, his horses, his villas and their furniture, his dinners, his wines, his yachts;-her fêtes in the morning and her balls in the eveni

R THE

six? Make it ten, and he will spend twelve. Th

ave been perfect, only that the income fell short a certain, not very large, sum. This was a sad business. A few hundreds more, and he would have been quite at ease-he had them not-he began to feel rather poor. A letter arrives from his man of busi

gance-it is a bottomless cha

hings that perhaps may never recur. The prudent man economizes something else; the imprudent man goes to his capital

an's income makes all mighty smooth, and the consequent diminution of his future revenue is a trifle, not felt, and not worth thinking of. Desires increase with the means to gratify them. He w

and his wife had, by the nineteenth year of their marriage, eaten out the whole core and marrow of their fortunes. Th

description have seldom overflowing nurseries; the mother is usually too fine a lady to look after her children herself. She is contented with hiring some h

or what. I know not. All I know, is, there was some internal injury, the cause of which no medical man who was consulted could detect. The other, and only remaining child, was a fine, handsome, spirited girl, of whom Mrs. Nurse thought proper to be excessively proud and fond. And how were these little children educated? Educated is an inappropriate word. There was no capacity for education on the part of Nurse; but Mr. and Mrs. Winstanley, thoug

earned, a lesson-which, for want of comprehending the absurdly long words of which it seemed purposely composed, it was almost impossible she should l

or no. Sometimes the children were taken to stare about them in church; but not often, for Mrs. Winstanley was in the habit of fulfilling the commandment very literally, and making Sunday a day of rest. Commonly she spent the forenoon in bed; only getting up in time

rbearing, and tyrannical-as much so as such a little creature could be. They were fast growing up in

s were numberless; more especially to her helpless sister, whose languid health and

with that whining voice of yours, enough to drive one mad. Why can't you brighten up a little, and come and pl

; pray don't! My hip hurts me;

ter with it; only you're so ill-natured, you never will do any thing I ask. Nurse,

told me to come, and stay in the da

o before, came in with her sewing in her hand,

d; but come and make this tiresome girl play with me. There she sits

r chair. "Pray, don't. I'll go and play; but inde

st mind me, Matty; you came here to mind

together. It was difficult to say what the features of her face might have been: they were so crumpled, and scarred, and s

ying, "What ails you, Miss? I hope it isn't true th

her eyes were filled with t

hip does

ly! At night, sometimes, wh

know that,

lways talking of it; but, for my part, I don

ying that. How cruel you are to set Nurse

ilst Matty stood silently by, her eyes

t had pleased God to spare me my si

t with indignant contempt. It would seem as if she thought it almost too grea

uch as you serve

e who cares!

away, saying, "I should like, for my part, to hear who this important one is, tha

ina! only hear how shocking yo

o mighty bad, Mrs. Matty? You? A charity girl? I heard Nurse say, but yesterday, that she wondered her mistress wo

d many perishing like me, and saved us from wickedness, and taught us to know His holy

little awe-stric

f, and said, "she hated to hea

atty?" asked Clementina, gentl

ant of who made and keeps you and all of us! Sure! Sure!" Matty kept

about all that," sa

rity to presume to insinuate a wan

ying with her bird, whose golden cage stood upon it; but, as she did so, she listened

and nothing gives me any ease or amusement; and I think it very hard-I can't help thinking it hard-that I should have to suffer every thing, and

ke you, once, Mi

a contemptuous shru

's very horrid and ugly, I know, and I don't wonder as Nurse calls me rubbish, and hates to

like that, for your face is all cut t

ery bad in liquor, and seeking a quarrel with anything-for something he must have to quarrel with. Well! One evening-O! I shall never forget it-a cold, sleety, winter day it was, and the wind rushing up our court, and the snow falling thick, and the blackened drops, and great lumps of snow coming splashing down, and the foul water oozing in under the doorsill, and all such a mess; and the poor, tired, or half-drunk creatures coming in splashed and dripping, and quarrelling for the nighest places to the fire, and swearing all the time to make one's hair stand on end; and father coming in, all wet and bedabbled, and his hat stuck at the top of his head, and his cheeks re

upon the story. She forgot her pride and her insolence in th

being burned,"

ible,

a, impatiently; "w

er's knee, and he had made a cradle for me, like, of his great strong arms: and his head was bent dow

little woman,'

at least, I thought her more beautiful than the angels of heaven-standing on the

sleeves, and a white rose in her hair. She had thrown a large bonnet over it-but now it was tossed off, and lay with her shawl upon the floor. Bad as I was-O! in such horrid pain-the sight of tha

who could she

apothecary's young bride, as he had just brought home

ously, with a gesture that

ntina

t child like you! and into such a dreadful pla

ne to go but a little mite of a shop-boy-for Mr. Stringer had but just begun business-what does she do, but catches up a bottle of stuff for burns, claps her bonnet over her pretty white rose, throws her shawl on, and, dressed in her beautiful new w

, poor dear. Don't groan so badly, poor child! You a

e cried, till at last he seemed as if he could contain h

said the young lady.

d then went on, 'It was all of you-you big brute-you-you pushed your own baby i

ng lady, gently. 'Lay the child upon the bed,' t

woman began; 'not a penny to bless

father's voic

he lady to spend in more gin? Give 'em nothing, ma'am-give none of us not

serable apartment. Too true, there was not an a

-for some poor creature had lent an old shawl to throw over me-took me and carried me after her: and a turn of the alley which led into the court, brought us out into the street, where the apothecary's shop stood. I wa

silent for some tim

ly an apothecary's wife," she went on; "and was her name Stri

Bullem-that was the na

d they ke

sure th

did you st

ing, but I was quick enough. She found what bad ways I was bringing up in; that I had never once heard of Our

her, but said nothing. Matty, in brok

quity in which she had found me. And as I lay in my bed, one day, and they

to adopt all the poor neglected c

a pearl. Let me keep this poor little one. I don't mean to be foolish-indeed I don't-I will only clothe her, and feed her, and send her to the charity school: indeed, they will h

cold-hearted, selfish young man, but he couldn't refuse her; and so, when I got better, I was sent to one of the great charity schools

of Matt

ed would prove; and that in providing for the religious and moral education of this wretched child, she was preparing the means of a religious education-imperfect, yet still in some sort a sound religious education-for two children of wealth and luxury, as to such things, most entirely destitute. Bu

the two girls. From this day, a sort of acquaintance arose with Matty, which

em, not unwilling, in those paths which are indeed paths of pleasantness and peace. She read the Bible with th

a teacher could not lead them very far; but she brought them on Our Saviour's way. And though

R THE

he reign of Mrs. Nurse had closed. She was superseded by a regular governess-a foreigner. A French lady was chosen to undertake the task of forming two English girls to become English wives and mothers. The F

iety. As for Julian Winstanley himself, he detested reflection, abhorred every thing approaching

to be constantly amused, or he found home intolerable.

school-room, and saw very little of their parents; but when they were once brought out, and

nths of every year were passed; the remaining six being spent either in travelling, or at watering-places, or at some hired house in the country. They lived as a privileged order, sev

separation which used to hide the very existence of want and misery and sin from the happier and the better; and the obscure dwellings of the London poor hav

t sixteen or seventeen years. She was beginning to get rather tired of

and improvements. Her receiving-rooms had to be newly furnished, a new open carriage

behalf. So said the mother, and so thought the father. The love he felt for his daughters was perhaps the only ten

ng of pure affections, could he have worthily indulged them.

o keep up the ball; what with little parties and concerts, the opera, the French plays, and so forth, she contrived to escape the horror of a domestic evening.

Ella was a noble creature; a figure and form the most perfect that I ever beheld-features of matchless symmetry-eyes dark, large, and lustrous-hair in floods of rich brown waves-a ha

rling. Nothing was too good for Ella; nothing was to be spared that could please or adorn Ella. To ride with her in the Pa

an impetuous, proud, haughty beauty; a contemptuous disregarder of the weak, the wanting, and, above all, the low, or the ugly;-living for the day, as her father lived

, diffused from the beautiful being. She was no angel of light.

y had sown, had fructified at first, but the briars and thorns were gathering fast around

that she would not suffer this. She found herself still welcomed when she did come; for both the girls loved her, and she perfectly adored them. So she came, bringing her little

R THE

head from me?-Why, I can see you are coloring crimson

! I am sure I don't care. No, not...

u, Ella; and what's more, you love him. And if you don

-Upon my word! I like him, and

t you say. Wal

if they have, I tel

very well! If that be really so, then

!-what m

my peace. He is young, and he is volatile enough.... And, indeed, I have wondered, Ella, sometimes, how you e

sed their attendant, that they might have a comfortable chat together. And then the hair came all tumbling over her shoulders, and upon her white muslin d

most intolerable

ooked down, an

well tell

ht to own-say what you ought to say-that you do not quite hat

Did I say I

id. Or, that he was

I don't hat

ves you, and adores you-and all that. Very easily said. But far more th

hed into her face, and such an ex

rms around her sister, a

am so-so happy! But tell me-tell me-all, f

ball, didn't you?-You were a little jealous, were you not, you silly thing

But tell me all he said.

ight; and, if you would give him the least atom of encouragement, I was to take no notice, and he woul

u say such a

at was what I

h you are,

se, I was to writ

d not

e the existence o

s of the infinite. None can have deeply loved-when or how in other respects it may have been-but they h

ay do nothing of all this-bu

he had many excellent qualities. He was warm-hearted, generous to excess, had

t halo which surrounded her lover would seem somewhat to pale. The young man even appeared to feel this, in some degree, himself. He always, y

t-what shall we do? Oh, misery! mi

ars; but she would not give way. In pas

y round her; whilst Ella poured

o proud of-that I loved so-who spared nothing upon either of us-

ed forth these passionate lamentations; but she nei

ch experience in the ways of the world; but since our poor mother died, and I have had

lifting up her head:

ss, my dear Ella? Besides, I hoped that it concerned me alone-that things migh

hat was to b

e you have been engaged to dear Lionel, and I have been much alone, I have thought of old things-old things that good

excellent cr

ook he

t is to be done? Can

I fear nothing

ng with a new hope. "I will try-I will venture. It is perhaps great

entina sho

osity, and some of her old injustice. Then, seeing sorrow and pain working upon her sister's face as she spoke thus, she stopped herself, and cried-"Oh! I am a brute-worse

he effort would be vain,-vain as those she had herself made; yet there was

, to the door, with feelings o

impetuous Ella. Through the hall-all marbles and guilding-and her hand was upon the lock of the library door. Sh

ritated voice from within; "go

-Ella; pray le

opened t

bookcases fitted with splendidly bound books-seldom, if ever, opened. His pale, wan, haggard face and degraded figure, formed a fearful contrast to the splendid scene around h

ow rapidly suffused with a deep crimson flush; but, as if electrified by a sudden

ms; but he clenched the phial still faster in hi

you come

cion which had seized her-"what are you about? what is that?" stretching out

. "Let me alone-leave me alone! what are you about? Be quiet, I say, or by...." And

s round his, lifted up her earnest imploring face, crying, "Father-father! papa-

escape from her clasping arms. "Have done, and let me alone. Will you have don

er-never! till

ha

ha

aid more calmly, "Let me be, Ella! and if it will be any satisfaction to you, I will thrust the bottle into th

risen from her knees. She followed him, and again laid that hand upon his arm-that soft, fair hand, of whose beauty he was wont to be so proud. It trembled violently now; but as if impelled with

ise me that you will ne

wh

if I must speak out," she said,

overing his face with his hands, groaned-"Yes-yes, Ella! all you say is true. I am a wretch who is unworthy to-and more-who will not live." He burst forth at last with a loud voice; and his hands falling from hi

lled me," she cried, bursting into tears. "Oh, papa! papa! Do not! do n

ow what ha

u have lost a great d

st a large sum of money at cards-and more," he added, setting his teeth,

pay! We can sell-we can make any sacrifice-any sacrifice on earth to pay. Only think

while; then, in a cool, a

ill of sale for a

le! What is a

took my bill of sale, took it for twice as much as the things would really bring; but the rascal thought he had no alternative. I wa

t-b

in my favor. I staked my zero against another man's thousands-never mind how many-and I lost, and have only my zero to offer in payment. That is to say, my note of hand; and how much do yo

real. Such things are not mere words. They ar

er way out of it. To be sure, one might run-one might play the part of a cowardly, dishonorable rascal, and run for it, Ella, i

onor of the one course or the other, there seems little to choose. Only-only-if you lived

labor, until I have paid all-extremely

nly ripened in this fearful extremity-"even spadefuls at a time have done som

nt self-indulgence, until, squeeze him as you would, there was not one drop of virtue left in him. Crush him, as fate is crushing me at this moment; and I tell

his terrible speech-but, "No

if that were any excuse for him. "Then you prefer the other scheme? I thought, he went on, "to

asped, rather

tone of greater seriousness. "You wish, Ella, to preserve

could think of th

ting rid of it is mine, and I hold myself at liberty to make use of it or not, at my own good pleasure. As for my ever living to pay my debt, it's folly to talk of it. I have not, and never shall acquire, the means. I have neither the virtue nor the industry. I tell you, I am utterly good for nothing. I am a rascal-a scoundrel, and a despicable knave. I played for a large sum-meaning to take it if I won it-and not being able to pay, I lost it-and that, I have still sense of honor enough left to call a rascally proceeding. Now there is one way, and one way only, of cancelling all this in the eye of the world. When a man destroys hims

ica," she said

I to live there when I am there? To be sure,

he bill of sale. Did you

he must have something to live upon. If he is t

provid

u w

gift-is at least my own. Lionel has been ge

t like-no man would like-to have to maintain a wife's father,

will neve

e? I tell you, I shall nev

wil

t touch of nature had reached him

eve, that I shall

e," is the energetic expression of that erring man

om, like some noble figure of ruin and despair; yet with

d cherished, were shattered around her, and she felt that she stood a

affluence of nature's finest gifts, might be. Upon another side her lover!-her husband! who was to have been her heart's best treasure! who never was to be hers now. No! upon that her high spirit had at once resolved; never. Impoverished and degraded, as she felt herself to be, never

f a most frail and susceptible temperament, and eminently formed to suffer severely from adverse external circumstances; but sh

pward-she loo

ttle knowledge of it. But such ideas had never been thoroughly realized by her mind; and now, when in the extremity of her destitution

roken,-communion with the better and higher world was at least begun. There was a light-dim and shadowy-but

R THE

worst of her fellow-creatures, had been moved by the sincerity of his distress. The extremity of his misery had raised so

d as was his attire, defiled with dirt, and worn with travel, he had left the house, and had followed, a tearless, but heartbroken m

He had seen his best and loveliest one consigned, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; he had waited quietly until all had dispersed, and every one

lofty tower of the church-steeple. It gilded the church-vane and weathercock; it sparkl

n which his beams fall. And there was a soft wind, too, which stirred among the leaves of a f

e sat down upon the little mound, and hid his face in his hands. He sat there for some time-for a long, long time-and then slowly arose, and with feeble

), indignation having yielded to compassion, was prepared to satisfy the yearning anxiet

at I and the other ladies whom you have seen w

t never struck me to inquire, or

is a kind

faint flush pas

gs had gone on-a consequence inevitable

t the medical attendants: and we admit none but women-and those women of a higher class, of gentle breeding, and refined habits, who have fallen into poverty, and yet who have not been hardened in their sensations by habits, so as that the edge of privation is blunted; or what, perhaps, is still more difficult to bear, that painful sense of publicity unfelt, which renders shelter

within him, for his nature had been much changed; but, only as such natures change. His faults had withered away, but no good qualities seemed as yet to burst forth to flourish in their stead

ew-and who would fain do something in the great vineyard before they are called away. It is our practice for some of us to visit this place every day, to see our patients, attend to their wants and comforts, and, where it is desired, administer by our conversation such helps and solace as we can. I come here pretty often, for I am not o

t, but listened w

y R., but that Lady R. knew nothing about her. It was at the earnest solicitation of the wife of the baker who supplied her family with bread, that Lady R. had given the order; the woman, who was a very plain sort of person, but highly respectable in her way, having assured her that it was a case of the most urgent necessity: that the young lady was utterly penniless and destitute, and in an almost

his elbow upon the table, so that his arm covered in part his face, which w

rovided with a single bed, a sofa, an easy chair, a table, and such o

no one answered it; she therefore gently t

g-gown. One arm was thrown above her head; her hair had gotten from her comb, and fell in waves and curls of the utmost beauty and luxuriance almost to her feet. She lay with her face upward, resting upon the

!" he just

eived us, gave a little start, glanced at the matron, a

I am but just returned from the country. I spend a good deal of my time when in town with the

k ladies;' but she fixed her large, lustrous eyes upon me as I went on speaking-saying n

aid, after a littl

out moving those large mournful eyes, in whic

but took a chair, sat down by the bedside, and laid mine

y returned; and then the tears, which had so slowly gathered i

g so quietly and still, and without convulsion of features-the tears of a strong but softened mind. 'To be sick

good-very goo

it is, perhaps, that I am almost troublesome in offering my society to those here who have not many friends and visitors-especially to the young. I ca

whom I loved, I could get on-better or worse-but I could get on. But she is gone. Others

be like an old friend. Yet, when the old wine is drawn down to the

n,' she said, fixing her lovely eyes, filled with an earnest, intelligent

That, I hope, indeed, would be f

o whom I owe much; but they are both so inferior to myself in habits and education, that I don't think they could hum

o say, 'We must not exact too much from each other. A person may have a very single-hearted and sincere desire to serve us, and yet be somewhat awkwa

ne, and pressed it with some fervor. Yes, that is true. We may, in the pride of our unsubdue

len man. "Shall I pass on to others? Yet there are few events to relate. The history of this li

mit nothing that you can remember of them. She was a

a noble

ed her father, who had been obliged to quit the country; and that she and her sister had found it necessary immediately to set about getting their own livelihood. Only one course was open to either of them-that of becoming governesses

d; but in such cases one cannot choose. My dear Clementina's accomplishments were such as the family in London wanted; mine suited those who offe

I said, 'when the

ked, with some bitterness. 'It would need great faith when one receives

th in Him, the All-wise, Merciful, and Good. We should have it,-should we n

see and know

though we cannot see

ere are moments in life when the cruel blow

have you drank so deep of the cup of sorrow? And have you

nd, and turned her head coldly aw

her why s

peculiar character. If the soul does not put them within itself, none upon earth can bestow them. They are only given of God; and it has not pleased Him to give them to me. No,' she went on, with much emotion. 'If there

her speak thus. I, however, venture

d find help,

ot health and strength to

e they sought it

t who can comma

eryb

that we do not know him at all, it may be as you say. But if we kno

ruth than I had, or have. Yes, that it was-that it must have been-which supported her in circumstances far worse than mine. She was patient, composed, resigned, and, in spi

e perfect in weaknes

s with a searching, earn

tinued, 'how it fared

ow much strength, both of body and sp

aware of it, in

requent struggles for mastery. Then the mother, when she did interfere, was sensible and just; and she supported me when she thought me right, through every thing. If she disapproved, too, I could be hot and unreasonable in my turn, and she gently told me of my fault in private, so as to never impair my authority. She was a wise and excellent woman. A good mother, and a true friend, even to her governess. But it was different with Clementina. Shut up in London, with a family of cold-hearted, proud childre

her. What was to become of her? We

il I had settled her somewhere in comfort. But where was that to be? We had not a friend in the world except one. She had been o

we could. My sister's little purse was reserved for extraordinary expenses; and I contrived out of my own salary to pay a litt

tment was plainly furnished enough; but the walls were of a cheerful color, and the whole furniture was scrupulously clean. The windows stood open, looking upon a space in which a few green trees w

nature. Whilst our health and spirits lasted, we both of us took a pleasure in defying superfluity, in being easy and content upon a pallet bed, and with a crust of bread and a glass of water; but, oh! when sickness comes-deadly sickness! The fever, and the languor, and, above all, the frightful susceptibility to external influences. When upon the hard bed you cannot sleep, though sleep is life to the exhausted frame. When the coarse food you cannot touch-though your body is sinking for w

suddenly lifted up his head, looked round the room where he sat, and through the large cheerful window

t was so long since he had felt or expressed any grateful or amiable sentiment, th

ndness to go on,"

h evidently not belonging to the higher class, sitting with her. She was a person whose appearance would have been almost repulsive from the deep injuries her face had r

med to have left in the world, and the only person from whom she could bear, as it afterwards appeared, to receive an obligation. This

hich were considerable, though every thing was conducted with all the simplicity compatible with decency; and of the charges of the medical man who had attended her: a low unprincipled person, who had sent in an enormous bill, which there were no means of

sister's debts,-she had made an arrangement with a publisher to be a regular contributor to a certain periodical,-she had likewise produced a few rather popular novels. To effect this she had indeed labored night and day,-the day with her pupils, half the night with her pen. She was strong, but human nature could not support this long; and yet

e as she liked him. A wild horror took possession of his countenance-his lips became livid-his cheek ghastly-he mutt

obliged to throw up her situation; soon afterwards the possibility

indifference, upon her hard-earned labors! I was eating into her life! And when the supply ceased, I-I never knew what it

e wicked cease from troubling, and wher

gger has pierced it at last. You need not drive in the

lity had, it is true, irritated her almost beyond bearing, after a

u pain. I ought to be so

y. "And there was another, on whom her young heart dote

poke o

what sh

dy hes

ll me-I ca

r. Go home; and may God give you grace at the eleventh hour, and bring you and you

tormented with a yearning desire to hear all. Tell me; I ask it of you as a fav

sed her, gradually disappeared. That grace took possession of her heart which the wor

more composed. She told me so one day. Then s

as s

oved as she said, 'Do I unde

afraid

rself for a short

so y

es and seasons which the Father ha

o wish to live. Did you never hear that I had a father livin

' I an

heard his most

t, I believ

, I fear, a very-

as s

he cried; 'believe it or not who

began to flow fas

t father home; to have joined our two desolate hearts together; to have brought him to the knowledge of One whose yoke is e

pare, if it were good it should be so. If means would avail, He would provide the means. His work will not stand still because the instrum

he covered his face with his hands,

as I could; and she died: with her last brea

d. 'I often wished in my desolation I could feel angry.' She told me his name; and I promised to make inquiries. I had fortunately the opportunity. I had the pleasure to tell her, that he had made the greatest efforts to find her out, but in vain; that he had remained unmarried and constant to her memory: that what had happened had given a new turn to his character. Habit

ied true and blest, because he was what he was; and that I bade him a fond adieu, until we should meet aga

everted to

ll come back as he went; his heart yet unchanged: defying and despairing. Tell him not-be patient, with him, good kind friend, for my sake. There is good in him:-good he knows not of, himself; that nobody knows of, but his lov

lady, for he who listened fell pr

neither moved nor spoke. Life, however, was not ex

ution was strictly devoted to women of the more refined orders.

orst days he had never wanted energy. His heart was ever strong for good or for bad. What passed within him,

stooping much. From that time, he continued to earn his bread honestly, as an attendant in the very hospital where he had bee

on the sick, his assiduous discharge

our colonies, came to visit him. The two were long together

re clasped together, as if he had departed in the act of prayer. He lies buried in a neighbo

r, earnestly imploring that so it migh

VARIETIES IN E

WARD BULW

L CHAPTER.-THE AB

ds the Rights of Women, the reign of Social Love, and the annihilation of Tyrannical Prejudice. A third, who has the air of a man well to do in the middle class, more modest in his hopes, because he neither wishes to have his head broken by his errand-boy, nor his wife carried off to an Agapemone by his apprentice, does not take Enlightenment a step farther than a siege on Debrett, and a cannonade on the Budget. Illiberal man! the march that he swells will soon trample him under foot. No one fares so ill in a crowd, as the man who is wedged in the middle. A fourth, looking wild and dreamy, as if he had come out of the cave of Trophonius, and who is a mesmerizer and a mystic, thinks Enlightenment is in full career towards the good old days of alchemists and necromancers. A fifth, whom one might take for a Quaker, asserts that the march of Enlightenment is a crusade for universal philanthropy, vegetable diet, and the perpetuation of peace, by means of speeches, which certainly do produce a very contrary effect from the Philippics of

nued from

st rogues I have ever encountered were amazingly well-informed, clever fellows! From dunderheads and dunces we can protect ourselves; but from your sharp-witted gentleman, all enlightenment and no prejudice, we have but to cry, "Heaven defend us!" It is true, that the rogue (let him be ever so enlightened) usually comes to no good himself, (though not before he has done harm enough to his neighbors.) But that only shows that the wor

mere intellectual culture leaves in the human being. Certainly I have no spite against intellect and enlightenment. Heaven forbid I should be such a Goth. I am only the advocate for common sense and fair play. I don't think an able man necessarily an angel; but I think if his heart match his head, and both proceed in the Great March under the divine Oriflamme, he goes as near to the angel as humanity will permit; if not, if he has but a penn'orth of heart to a pound of brains, I say, "Bon jour, mon ange? I see not the starry upward wings, but the grovelling cloven-hoof." I'd rather be obfuscated by the Squire of Hazeldean, than enlightened by Randal Leslie. Every man to his taste. But intellect itself (not in the philosophical, but the ordinary sense of the term) is rarely, if ever, one completed harmonious agency; it is not one faculty, but a compound of many, some of which are often at war with each other, and mar the concord of the whole. Few of us but have some predominant faculty, in itself a strength; but which (usurping unseasonably dominion over the rest) shares the lot of all tyranny, however brilliant, and leaves the empire weak against disaffe

bserves, that the Cow of Isis is to some the divine symbol of knowledge, to others but the milch cow, only regarded for the pounds of butter she will yield. O tendency of our age, to look on Isis as t

PTE

jorities, has barely escaped defeat-thanks to a majority of five. The expenses of his election are said to have been prodigious. "But who can stand against such wealth as Egerton's

ething of gravity, of earnestness and passion, in Beatrice's countenance when carefully examined; her smile at times might be false, but it was rarely ironical, never cynical. Her gestures, though graceful, were unrestrained and frequent. You could see she was a daughter of the south. Her companion, on the contrary, preserved on the fair smooth face, to which years had given scarcely a line or wrinkle, something that might have passed, at first glance for the levity and thoughtlessness of a gay and youthful nature; but the smile, though exquisitely polished, took at times the derision of a sneer. In his manners he was as composed and as free from gesture as an Englishman. His hair was of that red brown with which the Italian painters produce such marvellous effects of color;

ut as if ashamed of his country and his birth, he affected to be a cit

that you discover this girl, can you suppose that her father will ever cons

pes; I knew it before he had gone through exile and penury. How can I know it now? But comfort yourse

hat in despite

nd a still slighter movement in his chair; "look you, this is no question of ifs and buts-it is a question of must and shall-a question of existence to you and to me. When Danton was condemned to the guillotine, he said, flinging a pell

itted to enjoy so long, have you really saved nothing aga

ery indefinite period-had I not every reason to suppose, that, before long, I could so influence his Majesty or his minister, as to obtain a decree that might transfer the whole, unconditionally and absolutely, to myself? And methinks I should have done so, but for this accursed, intermeddling English Milord, who has never ceased to besiege the court or the minister with alleged extenuations of our cousin's rebellion, and proofless assertions that I shared it in order to entangle my kinsman, and betrayed it in

in its whole character; "those were words that might make th

reat amaze; then he glanced ro

nse. Heroics sound well in mixed society; but there is n

nge in the expression of her countenance, which had seemed to b

joy one-half of those ample revenues-

hat if it be the pleasure of the crown to recall

? When you first employed me in your research

n of time. He cannot long remain excluded from the general amnesty, already extended to the other refugees. The person who gave me this information is high in power, and friendly to myself; and he added a piece of advice, on which I acted. 'It was intimated,' said he, 'by one of the partisans of your kinsman, that the exile could give a hostage for his loyalty in the person of his daughter and heiress; that she had arrived at marriageable age; that if she were to

w the E

om my cousin having any fair cause of resentment against me, when all was duly expl

ried the Mar

hould thus have the happiness of becoming myself the guarantee of my kinsman's loyalty-the agent for the restoration of his hon

Emperor c

, only to find out, what has hitherto baffled all our researches, the retreat of our dear kinsfolk, and to make myself a welcome lover to the demoiselle.

some, that he carried off the coxcombry of the words as gracefully as if they

my, and was indubitably acquainted with our cousin's retreat-a secret he has hitherto locked within his bosom? Did you not tell me, that though he was then in England, you could find no occasion even to meet him, but that you had obtained the friendship of the statesman to whom I directed your attention, as his most intimate associate? And yet you, whose charms are usually so irresistible, learn nothing from the statesman, as you see nothing of Milord. Nay, baffled and misled, y

and my fate. Your reproaches are not just. I made such inquiries as were in my power, and I ha

ount. Beatrice did not heed t

ou naturally desired first to know if the daughter lived; if not, you were the heir. If she did, you assured me you desired to effect, through my mediation, some liberal compromise with Alphonso, by which you would have sou

fectual an ally?" asked the Count, still smiling;

sh correspondence, to be revealed to the court; when you sought to seduce the daughter of the Count of Peschiera, the descendant of those who had ruled in Italy, into the

rom the shoulders on which th

our gratitude. You, whose fortunes are bound up

ty! Brother, brother-what, indeed, do I owe to you? The shame and the misery of a life. While yet a child, you condemned me to marry against my will-against my hear

ptly, and clasped her

fled by her sudden passion, "because I gave

cording to the customs of our country, to dispose of my hand. But I forgave you n

e customs of our country, and I was not aware till now that you had wholly disdained them. And," continued the Count, "you were

penni

no fault of mine. I could neither keep the cards

ed me to that renegade Genoese. He owed you money, and, against honor, and I

honor must be paid-old stories these. "What mat

instrument-your spy! Yes, your purs

, you are so extravagant. But c

be free f

arriage with one of these rich island

ed beyond dishonorable temptation. I desire," cried Beatrice wi

d content it; for by this marriage shall our kinsman regain his country, and repossess, at least, half his lands. And if I am not an excellent husband to the demoiselle, it will be her own fault. I have sown my wild oats. Je suis bon prince, when I have things a little my own way. It is my hope and my intention, and certainly it will be my interest, to become digne époux et irréproachable pire de famille. I speak lightly-'tis my way. I mean seriously. The little girl will be very happy with me, and I shall succeed in soothing all resentment her father may reta

Marchesa, irresolutely-and averting her

with your ai

overrate the v

you any wrong, real or supposed, I may have done you in past times. I wish to find again my own dear sister. I may overvalue your aid, but

e with fine flashes of generosity, spirit, honor, and passion, was hers-but uncultured, unguided-spoilt by the worst social examples-easily led into wrong-not always aware where the wrong was-letting affections good or bad whisper

tears, "when you speak to me thus, you know you can do with me what you will

the reconciliation is effected, and our interests and our hearts re-allied. Now, alas! to descend to business. You s

e an appointment with him this day: i

have no fear of your success, if it

e he pleads. I think here that I have some means to control or persuade him. If not-ah, he is of a charact

, or is he

nd not positively p

ying, we can bid high for it. Sur mon ame, I never yet knew money fail with a

ian oligarch. Thus seen, there was in that face, despite all its beauty, something that would have awed back even the fond gaze of love; something hard, collected, inscrutable, remorseless; but this change of countenance did not last long. Evidently thought, though intense for the moment, was not habitual to the man. Evidently he had lived the life which takes all things lightly-so he rose with a look of fatigue,

TER

and withdrew to her own room, to readjust her dress, and remo

pable of so much emotion and so much weakness. In that stately exterior, in that quiet attitude, in that elaborate and finished elegance wh

whole mind on his forehead."[8] The young visitor would never have committed so frank an imprudence. His cheek was pale, and in his step and in his movements there was a languor that spoke of fatigued nerves or delicate health. But the light of the eye and the tone of the voice were those of a mental temperament controlling the bodily-vigorous and energetic. For the rest,

it loses much by translation:-"Hominem liberum et magnif

uld rise beyond the fame of the salons, than to be considered backbiter and gossip; "yet it is always useful," thought Randal Leslie, "to know the foibles-the small social and private springs by which the great are moved. Critical occasions may arise in which such knowledge may be power." And hence, perhaps, (besides a more private motive, soon to be perceived,) Randal did not consider his time thrown away in cultivating Madame di Negra's friendship. For de

, and reciting various eulogies, which Lord this and the Duke of that had passed on the March

who does not offer me his hand, and with it the means to supply tastes that I fear are terribly extravagant;'-since thus you allowed me to divine your natural objects, and upon that understanding our intimacy has been founded, you will pardon me for saying that the admiration you excite amongst the grands seigneurs I have named, only serves to defeat

is ermine the woman to whom he talks of his heart. Ah," continued Beatrice, with a softness of which she was unconscious, but which might have been extremely dangerous to youth less steeled and self-guarded than was Randal Leslie's-"ah, I am less ambitious than you suppose. I have dreamed of a friend, a companion, a protector, with feelings still fresh, undebased by the low round of vulgar

" said Randal; "yet it does not harm

d then, too," said she, raising her head, and with a certain grave pride in her air-"and then, I could not have consented to share my fate with one whom my poverty would cripple. I could not listen to my heart, if it had beat for a lover without fortune, for to him I could then have

wards his fair companion-"ah, I congratulate you sincerel

eaving, and rapidly considered whether, if Beatrice di Negra would indeed be rich, she might answer to himself as a wife; and in

; for an Italian, yes. My for

ith difficulty he restrained himself

continued t

y handsome portion," he repeated aloud-"not for a grand seigneur, indeed, but still for a gentleman of birth and expectations worthy of your choice, if ambition be not your first object. Ah, while you spoke with such endearing eloquence of feelings that were fresh, of a heart that was new, of the happy English home, you might guess that my thoughts ran to my friend who loves

been touched by his honest ingenuous love-so evident, yet rather looked than spoken. I have contrasted the love that honors me with the suitor

ty, do not allow his mind and his nature to appear to advantage. You, it is true, have a taste for letters and poetry rare among your countrywomen. He has not at present-few men have. But what Cimon

ition, the equivocal worship rendered to her beauty, the various debasements to which pecuniary embarrassments had subjected her-(not without design on the part of the count, who, though grasping, was not miserly, and who by precarious and seemingly capricious gifts at one time, and refusals of all aid at another, had involved her in debt in order to retain his hold on her)-so utterly painful and humilia

him rather as the type, the ideal of what a woman in Beatrice's position might desire, in the safety, peace, and honor of a home, in the trust, and constancy, and honest confiding love of its partner! He did not paint an Elysium; he described a haven; he did not glowingly delineate a hero of romance-he soberly portrayed that Representative of the Res

reveries which crept over her as he spok

be relieved from the base and sordid pressure that weighs on me. I cannot say to the man w

ly, make so slight a p

, as the apt proverb expresses it, Madame di Negra extended her hand to Randal, an

ou dou

o not, for I ask

e? H

other has arri

ival announced

nce that will heal long family dissensions, and add to his own fortunes those of an heiress. My brother, like myself, h

Randal. "But how can

ride. She, with her father, sought

part in some political disaff

has baffled all our efforts to discover his retreat. My br

oce

t I have before sought to obtain the secret of our relation's retreat

aid Randal, almost bitterly; "who, close and compa

any secret you sought earnestly to acquire. Nay, more, I believe t

rth makes y

, and remark its change; in spite," said the Marchesa, smiling, and watching Randal while she spoke-"in spite of your habitual self-command. And when I pressed you to own that you had actually seen some one who tallied with that description, your

(which is likely enough,) what could be more simple than my seeking to compare your description with their appearance; and granting that I might suspect some one amongst them to be the man you search for, what more simple, also, than that I should desire to know if you meant him harm or good in discovering h

ow

tell you more. When Audley Egerton first noticed my growing intimacy with you, he said, with his usual dryness of counsel, 'Randal, I do not ask you to discontinue acquaintance wi

you the information she requires. Beware how you betray it. By one such weakness I should judge of your general character. He from whom a woman can extract a secret will never be fit for public life.' Therefore, my dear Marchesa, even supposing

's hand; you seem interested in the success of his suit, and you plead it with a warmth that shows how much you regard what you suppose is his happiness; I will never accept his hand till I can do so without blush for my penury-till my dowry is secured, an

rry Frank if the

or seem irresistible," rep

ndal's eyes, and he

, and drawing on h

r towards aiding your research, that you now

on to fortune, hono

ds whom I dearly love. I will therefore diligently seek to ascertain if, among the refugees I have met with, lurk those who

am a woman o

the door. He paused, a

alth, to induce a young man of your brother'

if any thing from wealth or influence in a foreign sta

roaching Madame di Negra, he lifted he

enough to your p

words he to

er of morality licentious, though m

s and

ust be attributed to distinguished and leading individualities; in the second (250 to 50 B.C.), that the dominant element was the political and national, especially the peculiar constitution and nationality of the Romans; the third (50 B.C. to 1350 A.D.), is remarkable for the number and variety of warlike events, and the gradual decline of the system used in prosecuting wars; in the fourth (A.D. 1350 to 1650), the art of war was greatly advanced, especially in resp

rs were deposited. It comes down to the date of the battle of Breitenfeld, and includes letters from Pappenheim, Gustavus Adolphus, and other leaders of the time, with the rough draughts of the letters of Duke George of Brunswick, Luneberg, to whom the whole collect

selections from Percy's Reliques, each piece being accompanied by a faithful and elegant translation into German, printed on the opposite pa

of Kasan. Austria and Electoral Hesse were not represented. Professor D?derlein was president, and Professor Nagelsbach vice-president. The president opened the general session with a discourse upon the position and value of modern philology. In the meeting of October 2d, Wocher of Ehrinegn read an essay on phonology, or the essential significance of sounds; and Beyer of Erlangen, another on an antique statue in the Munich collection whic

f such proportions as Haroun Alrashid, and Saladin. In ordinary cases when history enters the field where romance has achieved its most brilliant successes, it must be written with the utmost power not to seem pale and lifeless by contrast, but here the simpl

It also has its value for the political student who would make himself acquainted with the intermixtures and relations of the different races in Central Europe. It t

e Pacific Coast. Each state and territory is treated with extreme clearness and comprehensiveness, and with a correctness that seems astonishing, when we consider that the book was written in Germany. This volume is dedicated to Dr. Hermann E. Ludewig, of this city, in three or four pages, giving an account of the motives which induced Dr. Andree to write the work; we translate the dedicatory paragraph: "This book, honored sir, I dedicate to you. The literature of North American history is greatly indebted to your valuable labors; for these ten years no small part of your time has been devotedly spent in

oza's political ideas as of a practical nature, and not at all connected with the analogous theories of modern German metap

of the great Jew can only be correct on the supposition that in substance the idea and the reality are coincident, which supposition Spinoza himself expressly affirms. The radical fault of thi

als are drawn from the writings of Goethe himself, and from the published letters and memoirs upon separate portions of his life. The Italian Journey is the subject of a special disquisition. Goethe's political opinions are also discussed in connection with his beh

of letters, or as a revelation of the character and private history of the greatest man in German literature. The assertion that Goethe was really a man of cold and

f Stuttgart, in October last. We have not seen the book, but the publisher's advertisement is quite

th those of the United States. The author, Herr Meidinger, is an admirer of the present policy of England, and exhibits at length the statistics of the advance made by the

Herr Ettmuller at Quedlinburg. This is said to be greatly superior to the mass of the religious dramas of the time; it has a genuine unity and is not disfig

n German by Professor Kreysig of Elbing. It is designed

Ostseel?nden (The Hanseatic League and the German Knighthood in the Baltic provinces). The author has not merely exhausted the old chronicles of his subject i

the subject of romance literature is treated in its relation to Christianity, but not in a thorough or profound manner, and with too much dogmatism, and

urn, in London. The German copy is the work of the authoress herself. She resides, at Paris, as the wife of the well-known littérateur, Henri Blaz

en Kirchenverfassung in Deutschland (History of the Constitution of the Evangelical Church in German

n German, by Herr Kunzel. It is a warm tribute of admiration for the English statesman, and f

sh readers, has just published, at Darmstadt, a history of the English Revolution, which he dedic

arrative of that country down to the present time, dividing it into seven periods, and givi

agyars. Reguly is now hard at work at Pesth arranging for publication the immense mass of materials gathered on this long expedition, and meanwhile another savan, John Jerney, has just published in two heavy quartos the result of a journey he made for the same pu

e Charaktere (The Political Notabilities of Hungary), just published at Mayence. It contains the b

IV. of Prussia, has just been published at Berlin. It includes all the productions of his Majest

aus dem Norden (Pictures from the North), collected in a journey towar

Vienna, a volume of documents on th

rseding the necessity of study, but guiding it, and rendering it effective. It requires a very careful attention, which may be slighted either by scholar or teacher. It saves time, indeed, by rewarding labor, and by making the everlasting review of the ground unnecessary, fostering by means

. The Almanach du Village is published by the Propagande Démocratique Européene; its editor is M. Joigneaux, a representative, and Pierre Dupont, the democratic poet, is among the contributors. The Almanach Populaire de la France is a more elaborate publication, and boasts a larger circle of writers; Pascal Duprat, Alphonse Esquiros, André Cochut, Fr. Arago, and Victor Schoelcher, are among them. The Almanach des Opprimés, by Hippolyte Magen, is a Voltairian production, devoted to ridiculing the Catholic clergy and the saints

1st, that it confides too much in aristocracy and too little in democracy; 2d, that the legislature may render itself independent of the people by whom it is elected, and betray their interests: 3d, that the authorit

y will be Arabic, and, with few exceptions, hitherto unknown to Occidental students generally. The prices will be made very low, it is hoped not higher than those of ordinary Frenc

vings. The number for October contains articles on the following subjects:-the preservation and restoration of the Cathedrals of France, the Church of St. Paul at Nismes, Stereochromy, the Museum at St. Petersburg, Chinese Monuments discovered in Ireland, the Public Garden and Swimming School at Bordeaux, &c., &c.; it has four large engravi

g, a?rostatics, lighting by gas, Leverrier's planet, gunpowder, and gun-cotton. With respect to the glory of discovering photography, Dr. Figuier restores it to M. Niepce, of Chalon-sur-Saone, proving that he originated the conception, and that Daguerre did nothing more tha

tion, commerce, and finances, and the periodical press and literature of every country which possesses those products of civilization. The constitutions and affairs of Italy, Denmark, Germany, France, Belgium, Switzerland, Spain, Portugal, England, Norway, Sweden, Russia, Turkey, Greece, United States, Mexic

ad been dismissed from the College of Nismes for speaking too highly of Luther. He travelled in France and Switzerland, at the expense of the Government, in order to collect the letters. After the revolution, the influence of the Catholic clergy was such that the new minister of Public Instruction found a thousand difficulties in the way of accepting the labor of M. Bonnett, and the subject was finally referred

distributed, and delivered an oration, marked by the energy and force of youth, but not by its hopefulness. He is now eighty-five years old; and on this occasion, was particularly severe against the communists and socialis

ich promises to be valuable. It was not originally designed for publication, but to satisfy its author's curiosity as to the ideas and aims of the rev

alf dozen years ago. Like those of Pompadour, Crequi, Dubarri, Fouche, Robespierre, and many others, they will undoub

Psychological Aspects. This family of languages is that spoken by the Yoloffs and Bambaras. This prize is simply 1200 francs; it was established by the famous Volney, with a view to aid in the formation of a universal language. An equal prize was also awarded by the Institute to Dr. M. S. Munk, for his work on Sundry Hebrew Grammarians of the Tenth Century; and an honorable mention to Dr. Lorenz Dieffenbach, for his Comparative Dictionary of the Gothic Language. These three gentlemen are Germans, and it is not surprising that they should thus carry off the honors where t

He is a republican, and naturally takes a somewhat different view from that of Madame de la Rochejaquelin's Memoirs. Indeed, he corrects explicitly several geographical and historical errors into which she has fallen. He

in to the present day. The subject is one of great interest, and M. Lacombe has well employed the most e

Tripoli, to Cyrene, where he made some excavations and dug up several fine statues and remarkable inscriptions; M. Ducouret repeats at length the story of tailed men in the interior of Africa, but his veracity is uncommonly doubtful, and his previous travels in countries more familiar have been utterly fruitless; Mariette's report of his journey to Egypt, in which he discovered the Serapeum of Memphis, is particularly interesting. He is a man of uncommon energy and persistence, and almost lost his life in the affair. He was sick four weeks with fevers and ophthalmia, in the desert, where the Egyptian officials refused him water and provisions, so that the wonder is he did not die. The Assembly has voted 30,000 francs to dig out the Serapeum, which was covered with sand in Pliny's time, and will now be found exactly in its antique condition. Mariette is now there, and at the last advices had excavated five hundred different objects in bronze besides twelve sphinxes in granite. Very many travellers

e Institute and approved. In case of very expensive undertakings, like the excavation of the Serapeum, or the expedition lately sent to Babylon,

ncipal facts that have so long been the object of general curiosity, if not of exaggerated expectation. Something is also to be anticipated from the aid of Mohammedan travellers, of whom there are a great number scattered over the interior of the continent in search of adventures or with a view to make fortunes. One of these has published, in Arabic, two works containing his experiences and observations in Darfur and Waday, both of which have been translated into French by M. Perron. The second has just appeared at Paris under the title of Voyage au Ouaday par Cheykh Mohammed Ibn Omar al Tunisi, and is especially valuable, as Waday is a country about which we have before had little, if any, positive information. It lies south of the great desert between

st conspicuous writers of his party, demands that every species of free thought be discountenanced, and M. Barbey d'Aurevilly, in Les Prophètes du Passé, declares that the evil corrupting society is

an Edward E. Salisbury, of Boston. M. de Tassy says: "We must not suppose that in the United States every body is so absorbed in commerce that nothing else can possibly be

s of the Kings will be the subject of thorough discussion. It is also said that one of them will be reconstructed in the Louvre upon his plan, and a sarcophagus cover, which he brought with him, use

of a complete font of Ethiopic letters, at Paris, to be used in printing some two hundred and fifty Ethiopian manuscripts. They will form four printed volumes, and are said

glish, American, and German. Bishop Pallegoix, in Siam, has lately published a Siamese grammar, in Latin, and promises a Lexicon of the same language

draperies of French scepticism, and challenge admiration for the bravery displayed in mocking God, and ridiculing the most profoundly reasoned and firmly settled convictions of mankind. It is becoming fashionable among our young and imperfectly educated magazine and newspaper writers to "pity the weakness" which receives the Christian religion as it was held by our fathers. The drivel of which the veriest fools were made ashamed half a century ago, is revived as if it were a new and immortal flowering of philosophy. By the wise and thoughtful this sort of stuff is regarded with just contempt, and with confidence that though it may exist fo

adventurous traveller; that he has mastered two of the languages of Borneo; that he has penetrated farther into that great and little-known island than any o

usiness, &c., are now announced to be by a Mr. Helps. Most of them have been republished in this country, and much read here. Th

s Kavanagh; Hippolytus and his Age, or, Doctrine and Practice of the Church of Rome under Commodus and Alexander Severus, by the Chevalier Bunsen; China during the War and since the Peace, including Translations of Secret State Papers, by Sir J. F. Davis; Sketches of English Literature, by Mrs. C. L. Balfour; Symbols and Emblems of Early and Midi?val Christian Art, by Louisa Twining; a new work by Dr. Layard, entitled Fresh D

unt Colleges; and it is anticipated, from such a concentration of Nonconformist resources and energies, that the standard of learning among them will be raised still higher than it is at present, though it is

artillery of the atheists, The Vestiges of Creation; and The Leader thereupon declares that, "In proportion as any branch of inquiry rises out of

ng with the delivery of his lectures on moral philosophy in the University of Edinburgh, at the ensuing se

on days which will induce the grave spectator, looking upon the ladies and gentlemen of Young New-York, the former in the rostrum, the latter in the ball-room, to exclaim with the Persian King at Salamis, "All our men have become women, and our women men." This, however, can never be predicated of our friend of "the New Home;" and yet, shall we confess it, we like her better far in the broad west than on the Broad pavé; better in the solitude of the great woods than on the society of great cities; better in the log school-house, than in the tumultuous streets-in a word, better as the chronicler of the doings of the west, than as the critic of the goings-on in the east! So long as she adheres to the former, she is ev

end discoursing thus of the

rvants as fellow-citizens now, the time when they would

ag

th the broom and duster, if we consulted her feelings, expressed an interest in her welfare, and saved her pride as much as possib

ants. Worst of all, it is not true. In no country on earth are servants so well looked to, not only as to wants but as to comforts, as in this. In no other are their labors so light, their liberties so large, their remuneration so liberal, their feelings so freely consulted-nay, in many cases, their whims so foolishly indulged. To no contumely, that we can perceive, are they subjected; but we suppose that Mrs. Kirkland regards their non-admission to our tables, our conversational reunions, or our ballrooms, as the crowning contumely-quite forgetful

barber, or his colored boots, for his comfort, as the barber or the boots is on him for his wages; and perhaps the rich man would be worse put to it by the absence of the boots, than the boots by the absence of the rich man. Generally, we believe, the higher we are in po

rt what we consider a dangerous social fallacy, which is growing and gaining virulence and vigor under false treatment, and producing serious detriment to a large class of our population. The volume itself is, as we have observed, an entertaining, an

extremely attractive account of the Reformation in England. With regard to the relative excellence of these, we incline to the Luther. The simplicity and singleness of style which characterize Mrs. Lee's biography of Cranmer, would render it peculiarly the property of the young, were it not that the great amount of valuable historical information which it contains, as well as the fact that so little is generally known relative to the early history of the English Reformation, commend it equally to the perusal of older and graver students. But in the Luther, we have, in the best sense, a literary work

ntly not distant when the ?sthetics will form as essential a portion of school courses as French or Algebra, we cannot be too grateful to one who has prepared such an eminently practical yet agreeable introduction to such studies. To the general reader who

e publisher of it must have supposed Mr. Boyd possessed of some qualifications for the task undertaken by him, we will be a little more particular than is our wont, and convince him, and convince that part of the public which reads this magazine, that Mr. Boyd's edition of Young is an unendurable imposition. Dr. Young was a writer of singular naturalness of feeling and simplicity of style. As has frequently been observed of his works, lacking the romantic passion and fiery impulse which would commend them most to the tastes of middle life, they are the chosen companions of youth and age. Ther

appy they who

sted to the poet the expressive contr

in would wande

Fain:

reason, reason

rect

cause the best actings of my intellectual powers to be mor

no not

oss: to give i

n a tongue. To cause

th revolution

is earth every hour t

mp, but to sec

&c. But with a view

t in purchase

th: Of something

zeal for

: In the exercise of zeal for

orld to whom the poet's meaning would not be as plain from the text, as from such notes. In other cases, where the

mbs sleep's soft

soul fantasti

ds, or mourned

ods, or, down

swam with pain

pain, seeing no egress up the craggy or precipitous rocks: a use of the word "mantled," which is justified by instanc

xpanded, spread

prosaic feeblenes

hought, too bus

k postern of lo

the stillness o

etchedness per

esert now, and

ed joys, a n

parted days: The bare

tary suggests the idea of making a noble poem contemptible, by cov

ot without its uses. It affords abundant consolation to a vast number of young gentleman whose books produce no profits. Yet we are inclined to believe it is altogether without any foundation in reason; that The Scarlet Letter would have been as popular from Charleston as from Concord. We have an amusing illustration of the feeling on this point, in the last Southern Literary Messenger. The amiable and eminently

name would be familiar as household words; as it is, we dou

oston; at twenty-one had his name changed to H. S. Ellenwood; in 1820 emigrated to North Carolina; and on the 2d of April, 1843, he died, in Wilmington, in that sta

e Cooper, Washington Irving, W. C. Bryant, N. P. Willis, Alfred B. Street, Bayard Taylor, and Dr. Bethune, are among the contributors, and Durand, Huntington, Cole, Cropsey, &c., furnish pictures, from the most striking, beautiful, and least-known scenery in America. The publishers of the world do not this year furnish a volume more admirable. The Book of Home Beauty, containing exquisitely engraved portra

r, and R. H. Stoddard, from the press of Ticknor, Reed, and Field

ly popular series, the Women of the Bible, the Women of the Old and New Testament, and Our Saviour with Prophets and Apostles, all of which are now published in styles to suit the cabinet of art, the drawing-room table, or the library. Another very interesting and richly illustrated work from this house is The Land of Bondage, by Dr. Wainwright, corresponding with the same author's splendid volume, The Pathways and Abiding Places of Our Lord. The Appletons also publish for the coming holidays Mrs. James

Fine

aditions of the schools. They were painted for a Russian gentleman, and were exhibited for a short time in Berlin. Spring is an Italian or Grecian landscape of the antique world, and th

its class ever engraved in this country-may now be purchased at t

now published from the original plate, by Andrews and Meeser, of Philadelphia, at three dollars per copy.

year since excited very general admiration at Düsseldorf. They have now been litho

ting in the world, illustrating American history. Its production marks an era in Ameri

ncker has undertaken the speculation, and intends that the engravings shall exceed everything

. It is to be twenty feet higher than the famous Bavaria, and is destined for this c

Review of

mocrats. In Delaware, on the same day, it was determined to hold a convention for revising the constitution of the state, by 2,129 majority. In Louisiana, on the 3d, the whigs carried the legislature, and gained one member of Congress (Moore over Morse). In Wisconsin the whigs have elected Farwell, their candidate for Governor, and a majority of the legislature. Maryland, on the 5th, the entire democratic ticket, for comptroller, register, &c., was elected, with a majority of the legislature. In Michigan, the same day, the democrats, as usual, carried nearly every thing. In Massachusetts, on the 10th, there was a fa

he invasion of Cuba; but additional discontent has been occasioned by the arrest, imprisonment, trial, and sentence (on the 12th of November), at Havana, of an American citizen, John G

hroughout, and against Bain. The decision is in favor of Morse on all points, and establishes that he is solely entitled to the

t, in favor of the Southern claimants. The sum in dispute was $750,000-being the amount at which the Book Concern

rand Jury presented seventy-eight indictments against thirty-nine of the partici

orously prosecuted. The latest intelligence from the mines is fa

cidents in the last few weeks, of which we

ve

ay, lost on Lake E

n into a sloop, La

, off Cape Cod, stru

t sea lat. 36?, lon

apsized, Lake Ontario,

n, lost about the sa

at Spencerport, N

chnic establishment, F

hiladelphia, burn

y a schooner, Boston

er, burst at Aiken,

York and New Haven Ra

k, causing a rush of children toward the great stai

native boatmen, and a battle ensued, which resulted in the death of two Americans, and

da the Jesuit revolt under Borrero has been put down and Borrero captured. From Buenos Ayres we learn that General Oribe has been

elsewhere, and in many long and powerful speeches has vindicated his great reputation for wisdom and for honest devotion to the liberties of his country. He was to leave England in the steamer Washington, for New-York, on the 14th November, and will probably have ar

the 31st of May; his ministers resigned; after a considerable period a new ministry, with little weight of personal character, was formed; and on the 4th of November the new session of the French Legislative Assembly was opened in Paris, to re

nt D

lexander in travelling on horseback through New England, and by this means he so far recovered his health as to resume the Presidency of the College and the charge of his parishes. About the same time he was married to Janette Waddell, second daughter of Rev. Jonas Waddell, D.D., that remarkable preacher whose blindness and eloquence have been celebrated by Mr. Wirt in The British Spy. In the Autumn of 1806 he received a call from the Third Presbyterian Church, at the corner of Pine and Fourth-sts., in Philadelphia. Though he had declined an invitation to the same church ten years before, he accepted this, and thus became a second time the successor of the Rev. John Blair Smith, D.D. He continued at this post until, in the spring of 1812, he was summoned by the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church to be the first Professor in the Theological Seminary then just founded at Princeton. This chair, we believe, he occupied until his death-until within a few weeks, at least, discharging all its honorable duties. It is a pleasing fact that the first two Professors in this Institution were associated in its service nearly forty years. During this period a large number of clergymen have proceeded from the seminary, and it has now not far from one hundred and fifty students. It is important to observe that it has no connection with the College of New Jersey, at the same place. The eminent usefulness of Dr. Alexander is not to be measured by the long and wise discharge of his duties as a professor. He was a voluminous, very able and popular writer. In addition to occasional sermons and discourses, and numerous smaller treatises, he wrote constantly for The Princeton Review, a quarterly miscellany of literature, and theological and general learning, of the highest character, which is now in the twenty-seventh year of its publication. His work on The Evidences of the Christian Religion has passed through numer

graduated at Princeton in 1811, studied medicine in Edinburgh, London, and Paris, and returning to New York was the friend and associate of Dr. Post, Dr. Hossack, Dr. Franci

associated with Dr. Doane, now Bishop of New Jersey, in the editorship of the Episcopal Watchman at Hartford, after which he removed to Boston, and was for several years minister of Christ's Church, in that city. He then became rector of St. Peter's, in Auburn, New York, and at length returned to Boston, where his numerous warm friends gladly welcomed his settlement as minister of the Church of the Advent. Dr. Croswell was a scholar, and possessed a fine taste in lit

he report of a trial which resulted in the divorce of Prof. Andrew Ure from his wife, in 1819, caused Dr. Pattison to come to the United States. He settled in Baltimore, where he resumed his profession as a lecturer on anatomy; and, going afterwards to England, he became a professor in the medical school connected with the London University. He continued but a short time in England, and on returning to this country he accepted the place of Professor of Anatomy in the Jefferson Medical College in Philadelphia, which he filled successfully until 1840, when he was made Professor of Anatomy in the Medical School conn

a month, for the performance of a new five-act tragedy, notwithstanding the existing law to the contrary. The tragedy was licensed as an opera in three acts, and was at length acted with some of the songs retained. This retention of musical irrelevancies, in obedience to the law, while it made the law itself absurd, could not fail of injuring the drama in which they were introduced; and, had its merits not been extraordinary, "Martinuzzi," under such circumstances, could not have lived a single night. As it was, it struggled through the month, making partisans to the experiment, though at the sacrifice of the author's means and feelings. Mr. Stephens accepted the martyrdom freely, and went through it nobly, for the sake of the cause which to his death he held sacred. Moreover, he would have continued the contest, but that he was strongly advised to the contrary by Mr. Sheridan Knowles, and Mr. John A. Heraud, the latter of whom had been actively engaged in getting up "Martinuzzi," but thought that sufficient demonstration had been made. In this he was right, as it subsequently proved; for, shortly after, in conjunction with

until the month of August, 1826, having devoted himself, in the mean time, to a further diligent preparation for future usefulness. The first missionary ground assigned him was in the island of Java. He took up his residence at Batavia, where he married an English woman who was possessed of considerable property, and where, by mingling with the Chinese inhabitants, in the course of two years he acquired so skilful a use of their language, and became so intimately acquainted with their modes of life and intercourse with each other, as to be adopted by them into one of their families, and to have a Chinese name assigned to him. The circumstances just mentioned produced an important change in his plans. In the possession, as he now was, of a pecuniary independence, he resolved to break off his connection with the Dutch missionary society, and to proceed to China, to preach the gospel to the Chinese in their own country, to the extent that he might be allowed to do so. In the first place, however, he accompanied an English missionary, named Tomlin, to Siam, in the summer of 1828. This journey occupied Gutzlaff for a period of upwards of three years. Besides laboring diligently in his vocation as a Christian minister, he composed, while residing at Bankok, a Siamese grammar, and, in conjunction with Tomlin, translated the New Testament into the Siamese language. He next proceeded to China, where, assoc

an English-Siamese Dictionary, English Cambodian Dictionary and English-Laos Dictionary. These works I left to my successors to finish, but with the exception of the Siamese Dictionary they have added nothing to them. In Cochin-Chinese: a Complete Dictionary of Cochin-Chinese-English and English-Cochin-Chinese; this work is not yet printed. In Chinese: Forty Tracts, along with three editions of the Life of our Savior; a Translation of the New Testament, the third edition of which I have carried through the press. Of the Translations of the Old Testament, the Prophets and the two first book

ve had a more intimate personal acquaintance than was ever yielded to any other European. The family of Mr. Gutzlaff lately travelled some time in the United States, where they were well received in religious circles, and Mr. Gutzlaff himself felt some disappoin

ne his father. This led to the most scandalous scenes. A revolt broke out at Aranjuez, and Godoy nearly lost his life. Charles IV. abdicated, and Ferdinand assumed the sceptre, but the Imperial ruler of France would not permit him to hold it. Napoleon took the crown of Spain for his own family, and the terrible Peninsular war was the result. The consequence, meanwhile, to Godoy, was the loss of his wealth and honors, and his residence in foreign lands for nearly the remainder of his life. In 1847 the Spanish Minister published a decree, authorizing Godoy, by his inferior title of Duke of Alcudia, to return to Spain; and ordering that a certain portion of his once vast property should be restored. The latter part of the decree was acted upon, however, in the same manner as such restitution's are generally made in Spain.

tory of Northamptonshire, at great expense of money and time, and at great loss to himself. The book ranks in the very first grade of topographical literature, and is remarkable for the perfection of its genealogical detai

ces, and known for his works on zoology, died

ablishment of the Swedish Missionary Society, on which occasion he fraternized with the Methodists at Stockholm. He also addressed a letter to the Evangelical Alliance, at its last meeting, regretting his inability to attend. He has left to the University of Upsal his library, consisting of upwards of 34,000 volumes, and his rich co

elf to art, letters, and the stage. The private and public buildings which he was the architect of are numerous. Among his productions as an author may be mentioned his novels The Roué and The Oxonians, and his farces of Old Customs, Bach

st important contributions on unedited autonomous and imperial Greek coins which have appeared during his time in the transactions of most of the antiquarian societies in Europe, and especially in Great Britain. Many of Mr. Borrell's important coins have passed,

ho, after inquiring, presented him with the living of St. Giles-in-the-fields. This cure he filled actively and ably. To the stall in St. Paul's he was, without his asking, presented by the late Sir Robert Peel, "to mark," as the Minister said

affection was ever purer, no union ever more honorable to both parties, and the whole range of priest-made marriages never included one to which happiness belonged more surely, and upon which respect could dwell more truly. Our first knowledge of Mrs. Martin," continues the Leader, "was as an opponent of Socialism, against which she delivered public lectures. But as soon as she saw intellectual truth in it, she paused in her opposition to it. Long and serious was the conflict the change in her convictions caused her; but her native love of truth prevailed, and she came over to the advocacy of that she had so resolutely and ably assailed. And none who ever offered us alliance, rendered us greater service, or did it at greater cost. Beautiful in expression, quick in wit, strong in will, eloquent in speech, coherent in conviction, and of stainless character, she was incomparable among public women. She was one of

solating Simoom of the desert, it withers every thing within its reach; and as soon as i

es to the Inhabitants of London, of which it w

e God's enemies. It had promises for the hopeful, cautions for the prudent, charity for the good. It was all things to all men. It became the grand leader of the ascetic to the convent-of the chivalrous to the crusade-of the cruel to the Star Cham

r the dead, before whom living his coward tongue would falter. Let his manliness teach him truth if his creed has failed to teach him courtesy. As a worker for human improvement, Mrs. Martin was as indefatigable as efficient. From the time when she published her Exiles of Piedmont, to the issue of her essay on God's Gifts and Man's Duties, and later still, she wrote with ardor, always manifesting force of personal thought, and what is more unusual in the writings of women-strength and brevity of expression. Her lectures were always distinguished by the instruction they conveyed, and the earnestness with which they were delivered. In courage of advocacy and thoroughness of view, no woman except Frances Wright is to be compared with her; and only one, whose name is an affectionate household word in our land (greater, indeed,

se a certain unpremeditated boldness in it admits the reader to instruc

g princes in Asia. Everybody must remember him during the few years which preceded the occupation of Affghanistan by the Engl

had such a run, with Madame Vestris in the chief part, at Covent Garden, and afterwards at the American Theatres. To name his ballads would occupy a large space, for a more prolific song-writer never existed. We may mention, however, amongst his works, The Soldier's Tear; Away, away to the mountain's brow; Come where the aspens quiver; I'll be no submissive wife; Rise, gentle moon; Kate Kearney; Come dwell with me; Pretty star of night;

t legitimate son of Frederick William the Second. He was born at Potsdam on the 3d of July, 1783. He served actively in the army during the war with France, which terminated so disastr

Ladies' Fashio

an inventive faculty. It is likely that these hats will gradually take the place of the funnel and stove-pipe styles which have been so long in vogue. They are made of fine material, are light, pliable, du

re are very few persons of taste who will approve the hat of the last few years more than that worn in the good old times of

younger men, and for the opera and the theatre.

r suited for trav

mparatively few of a kind to attract a large degree of a

of the latter with the comfort of the close sleeve. It may be made either in muslin or net, and is cut as a bishop's sleeve, the fulness being confined

ess. The double row of vandyked lace forming the trimming should drop b

he model of those worn by the celebrated monks of St. Francis, and the tout ensemble is very graceful and beautiful. The entire design is very well exhi

universally adopted. The above costumes, from the latest modes received from Paris, are in the

e, is worn with all materials. Upon moire or satin, deep flounces of chantilly or ruches of lace, placed en tablier, are much worn; taffetas flounces are cut and stamped in patterns, or covered with narrow velvets imitating embroidery. For mantelets, and every spe

he back of the head. Of the various materials likely to be employed for bonnets during the coming winter, none will be more fashionable than velvet. Among the velvet bonnets we notice one of violet-colored velvet trimmed with bows of the same, intermingled with black lace and jet beads. The inside trimming consists of velvet pansies, of

ellor's full wig, and secured by a richly gemmed bracelet under the chin. The close coat, and light and flowing mantle nearly concealing it, are of black or oth

riber'

ar, and typographical

er, the contents list the author as Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton. The

cted typo in

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