SELECT MISCELLANY. From the N. Y. Literary Gazette. throne, surrounded by republican institutions." that he was carried off by magic, and roaring, out most Meanwhile, at the Hotel de Ville, the brave citizens lustily that the devil had got him-was in this state of who had effected the revolution, particularly the young perturbation carried into the alignment of the camp.— men who were armed, called loudly for a republic, with The courageous sentinels hearing the noise and imaginLafayette at the head of it, as president. Numerous ing that Hannibal and his oxen were coming, dischargbodies pressed the latter to assume the supreme power ed their pieces and fled as if the devil chased them; the before intrigue, which was but too apparent, succeeded alarm guns were fired-the drums beat to arms—the ofin obtaining possession of it. But Lafayette, with deep ficers left their quarters and cried 'turn out! turn out!' emotions of gratitude, nobly persisted in the principles with all the strength of their lungs. The soldiers startwhich had been his guide through his long political ca- cd from their sleep as if a ghost had crossed their dreams reer, and negatived, with affection, though with firm--and the whole body running half naked, together nese, the solicitations which beset him on all sides. I formed a gallant dishabille, prepared to repel the terrible even remember that among the pressing instances of the invader. When lo! the ludicrous sight soon presented multitudes by whom he was surrounded, some individu- itself to all eyes of the gallant officer mounted on an old als of less republican feelings than the venerable gener- cow, with his face towards her tail, and this appendage al, besought him to put himself at the head of the gov- sticking straight out behind her tongue hanging out— ernment, in the following terms: "Well, if we are to her sides gory with the grievous gigging of the spurs— have a king, let it be you." and himself, owing his excessive fear, almost deprived of reason, and half petrified with horror. A loud and general roar of laughter, broke from the assembled band, at the rider and his steed-the whole corps gave hum three times three hearty cheers, as he bolted into the camp, and he was seized and carried to his quarters in triumph, there to dream of love's metamorphoses, backward rides, sternway advances, and alarms of invasion, and thereby to garnish his mind with materials for writing a splendid treatise on the novel adventure of cowology. 6 "I will say to you on this point," replied Lafayette, "in the words of Marshal de Saxe, that a crown would fit on me as a gold ring on a cat.'" The nomination of the Duke of Orleans met with a strenuous opposition from the combatants of July. No particular offence was imputed to him, but his being a Bourbon created an invincible repugnance to his appointment among the majority of those who had spilt their blood during the memorable three days. The name of Bourbon, against which the dead bodies which still encumbered the Place de Greve bore a bloody testimony, kept alive the most painful recollections, and a corresponding state of excitement; so that when the Duke of Orleans arrived at the Hotel de Ville, the few shouts in his favor were drowned in those of "Vive la Liberte!" and " Vive Lafayette!" This opposition became most powerful when the prince entered the Salle du Trone; and the young men, in opposition to the cry of "Vive le Duc d'Orleans," raised by the deputies, made the building ring with that of " Vive Lafayette!" Proclamations in praise of His Royal Highness were torn to pieces, and those who stuck them on the walls were illtreated by the people; all eyes were fixed upon these two During the Revolutionary War when a corps of the individuals. M. Viennet (a deputy) read the declara- American army were encamped near the borough of Elition of the Chamber, which was listened to with indif- zabethtown, in New Jersey, an officer, who was rather ference; but when Lafayette took the duke's hand, and more of a devotee of Venus than of Mars, paid his adgiving him a tri-colored flag, led him to a window, the dresses to a lady of distinction, whom he was in the haenthusiasm in his favor was revived, and the cries of bit of visiting nightly in the cultivation of those kind "Vive le Duc d'Orleans! became more frequent, but feelings which love so cordially inspires. On a discovewere still mingled with those of "Vive Lafayette!"—ry of the cause of the repeated absence of the officer, Yet the duke's situation was critical. In the interior of the Hotel de Ville, and even in his presence, discontent displayed itself in a manner by no means equivocal. A general officer (Dubourg) opening a window, and directing the prince's attention to the people, said "monseigneur, we know our wants and our rights; if you forget them, we will take care to remind you of them." In a word, there was every reason to apprehend that the people would resume their arms, and again take posses sion of the field of battle. It was at this juncture that Lafayette interposed his powerful authority with the leaders of the insurrection, and made them promise that no further disturbance should take place; he engaged to obtain from the new head of the state the proper securities, which he comprehended in the words "popular throne, surrounded by republican institutions; " meaning the adoption of the principle which establishes the sovereignty of the people -the abolition of the hereditary peerage-the abolition of the electoral cens-the application of the broadest electoral principle to the municipal and communal organizations the re-establishment of the national guard, conformably to the principles of the constitution of 1791 --and the suppression of monopolies injurious to trade and industry. A Ride. and of the place where his interviews with his Dulcinea were had, some waggish friends rosolved to play off a handsome trick at his expense, which should deter him from a repetition of his amorous visits. The officer, it appears, rode a very small horse, of the pony kind, which he always left untied, with the bridle reins over his neck, near the door, in 'order to mount and ride off without delay, when the business of courting and kissing were over; and the horse always remained until backed by the owner, without attempting to change his position.On a certain very dark night, when the officer had as usual gone to pay his devoirs to the object of his affections, and was enjoying the approving smiles of the fair one, his waggish companions went privately to the door of the house where the officer was, took the bridle and saddle from the horse, which they sent quietly away, placed the former on the tail and the latter on the back of a very sober ruminative old cow (with the crupper over the horns,) who stood peaceably chewing her cud, near the spot. Immediately thereafter, they retired some distance from the house, and separating, they raised a loud cry of alarm, that the enemy had landed, and were marching in full force into the village. On hearing the voice of alarm, the people ran out greatly excited; and consternation entering every dwelling, found its unwelcome way speedily into the household temple where our official hero was worshipping. Taking counsel from his fears, and snatching a hasty kiss, he started from the lady's chamber, and rushing down stairs, shot out doors with the velocity of a musket ball, and, owing to the darkness, not seeing the interesting change in the conformation of his nag, mounted hastily on the saddle, with his back towards the head of the cow, and plunging his "I am of the same opinion," replied the Duke of Or- spurs deeply into her side, caused her to bawl out with leans, "it is not possible to have passed two years in the excessive pain, and she started off in galiant style, in United States and think otherwise. But, in the present her best gallop towards the camp. The officer still plystate of the country, and of public opinion, do you thinking his spurs and whip to the skin and bones of the sufthat such a form of government ought to be adopted in France?" Lafayette, having adopted these points as consequences of the principles he professed, proposed them at the Palais Royal, which he quieted with the assurance that upon these points the lieutenant-general thought just as he did. "You know," said he to the prince, "that I am a republican, and consider the government of the United States the most perfect in existence." "No," returned Lafayette, "the form of government necessary, at present, for the French people, is a popular fering old animal, and with all his wine and love on A Buried City. The captain of an American vessel, named Ray, has lately discovered on the coast of Peru, in the environs of Truscillo, an ancient buried city of considerable extent. Following the course of some excavations he had made, he found the walls of the edifice still standing, and many of them in a complete state of preservation. He infers from the number and extent of them, that the population of the city could not have been less than three thousand souls. Great numbers of skeletons and mummies, in a perfect state of preservation, were found among the private and sacred edifices, and a great number of domestic utensils, articles of furniture, coins aud curious antiquities. The earthquake by which it was engulfed, appears to have suprised the inhabitants, like those of Pompeii, in the midst of their daily avocations, and many of them were found by Capt. Ray, singularly preserved by the exclusion of atmosphoric air, in the precise action or employment of the moment, when overwhelmed. One man, standing up, as if in the act of escaping, was drest in a light robe, in the folds of which, coins were found, which have been sent to the scientific institution at Lima, for investigation, A female was also found sitting in a chair before a loom, which contained a piece of cotton stuff which she was in the act of weaving. The cotton stuff (which is of a gaudy pattern but very neatly fabricated) is about eighteen inches in diameter, and appears to have only been about half completed.— A great number of antiquities and curiosities found in this American Herculaneum grave, have been sent to the museum at Lima. The Quaker. You recollect the story of the Quaker and his insurance, don't you? He had a vessel to sea that he had'nt heerd of for some time, and he was plaugy afeered she had gone for it, so he sent an order to insure her. Well, next day he learnt for sartin that she was lost, so what does he do but writes to his broker as if he meant to save the premium by recallin' the order: "If thee hast not insured, thee need'st not do it esteemed friend for I have heerd of the vessel.” The broker thinkin' it would be clear gain, falls right into the trap, tells him his letter came too late, for he had effected the insurance half an hour afore it arrived. Verily, I am sorry for thee, friend, said the quaker, if that be the case, for heavy loss will fall on thee; of a sartinty I have heerd of the vessel, but she is lost! man Tact and Talent. Talent is something, but tact is every thing. Talent is serious, sober, grave and respectable; tact is all that, and more too. It is not a seventh sense, but it is the life of all the five. It is the open eye, the quick ear, the judging taste, the keen smell, and the lively touch, interpreter of all riddles--the surmounter of all difficulties -the remover of all obstacles. It is useful in all places, and at all times: it is useful in solitude, for it shows a an his way into the world: it is useful in society, for it shows him his way through the world. Talent is power: tact is skill. Talent is weight; tact is momentum. Talent knows what to do; tact knows how to do it. Talent makes a man respectable tact will make him respected. Talent is wealth; tact is ready money. For the practical purposes of life, tact carries it against talent, ten to one. There is no want of dramatic tact or talent; but they are seldom together; so we have successful pieces which are not respectable and respectable pieces which are not successful. Take them to the bar, and let them shake their learned curls at each other in legal rivalry; talent sees its way clearly; but tact is first at its journey's end. Talent has many a compliment from the bench; but tact touches fees from attorneys and clients. Talent speaks learnedly and logically; tact triumphantly. Talent makes the world wonder that it gets on no faster; tact excites astonishment that it gets on so fast-the secret is, it has no weight to carry; it makes no false steps; it hits the right nail on the head; it loses no time; it takes all hints and by keeping its eye on the weathercock, is ready to take advantage of any wind that blows. leads. Talent is pleased that it ought to have succeeded; London Atlas. We believe there is in the above, conclusive evidence that its author is wanting in neither of the qualities on which he has so wittily exercised his pen. Just in Time. science! Flowers, that unceasingly expand to heaven their grateful odors and to man their cheerful looks, partners of human joy, soothers of human sorrow; fit emblems of the victor's triumphs, of the young bride's blushes; welcome to the crowded halls and graceful on solitary graves! Flowers are in the volume of nature, what the expression "God is love" is in the volume of inspiration. What a desolate place would be a world without a flower! It would be a face without a smile— a feast without a welcome. Are not flowers the stars of the earth, and are not stars the flowers of heaven? One cannot look closely at the structure of a flower without loving it. They are the emblems and manifestations of God's love to the Creation, and they are the means and ministrations of man's love to his fellow creatures; for A young physician having tried in vain to get into they first awakened in his mind a sense of the beautiful practice, at last fell upon an expedient to set the ball to and good. The inutility of flowers is their excellence rolling. He sprang upon his horse once a day, and drove and great beauty, for they lead us to thoughts of generat full speed through the village. After an absence of osity and moral beauty, detached from and superior to an hour he would return and carry with him some of selfishness; so that they are pretty lessons in Nature's his instruments-thinking if he could impress his neigh-book of instruction, teaching man that he liveth not by bors with the opinion that he had practice, they would bread, or from bread alone, but that he hath another than begin to place confidence in his ability. A wag who an animal life. more than suspected the deceit which he was practising, determined to know the truth. He accordingly kept his Discharging Clouds of the Electric Fluid. horse in readiness, and the next time the doctor galloped M. Arago has proposed a plan for discharging clouds, by the door, sprang on his steed and placed himself on in cases of storms, of the electric fluid which they conthe young gentleman's trail. The doctor saw the man tain, and thus preventing the frequent occurrence of following at his heels, but did not at first evince any un- hailstorms, which, as is well known, are generally proeasiness. At length, however, he thought it advisable duced by two currents of clouds, charged with positive to turn down a narrow lane. The pursuer followed on and negative electricity, crossing each other. It consists like an evil genius; but the doctor was not discouraged, in an improvement upon Franklin's experiment of the as another road lay a short distance before him, down kite, with which he obtained an electric spark from a which he turned. The other kept close at his heels, cloud, and afterwards Dr. Romus, of Neras, and Messrs. and the doctor grew impatient to return home. There Lining and Charles, of the United States, produced elecwas no house by the way at which he could afford any tric flashes three and four feet in length. M. Arago reTake them into the church, talent has always some- pretext for stopping. In the mean time, his saddle bags commends, that a small baloon, properly secured, armed thing worth hearing; tact is sure of abundance of hearwere with him, and he was otherwise so equipped for bu- with metallic points, and communicating with a rope coTalent may obtain a living; tact will make one. siness that he could not return, in the face of his neigh-vered with metallic wire, like a harp-string, should be Talent gets a good name; tact gets a great one. Tal-bor without exposing the secrets of the trade in the most kept permanently floating in the air at considerable height ent conceives; tact converts. Talent is an honor to the palpable manner. Every bound of his steed carried him over the spot which it is wished to preserve from the efprofession; tact gains honor from the profession. fects of lightning or hail; and he expects, that, by such an apparatus as this, a cloud might have its electric contents entirely drawn off without any damage being caused, or that, at least, the intensity of a hailstorm would be greatly diminished. The experiment is so simple that it is well worthy of a trial. ers. Take them to court talent feels its way; tact makes its way. Talent commands; tact is obeyed. Talent is honored with approbation; tact is blessed with prefer ment. scythe, and was in danger of immediate dissolution.- further from his home, and the shades of night began to fall on hill and tower. Still the sound of horse's hoofs was thundering in his ear, and he was driven to his wit's end; but just as he turned the angle of the wood, he heard a low moan. A man lay prostrate near the Place them in the Senate; talent has the ear of the fence of a meadow, and blood gushed from a fearful house; but tact wins its heart, and gains its votes. Tal-wound in his arm. He had cut an artery with his ent is fit for employment, but tact is fitted for it. It has a knack of slipping into place, with a sweet silence and glibness of movement, as a billiard ball insinuates itself into the pocket. It seems to know every thing, without learning any thing. It has served an invisible and extemporary apprenticeship. It wants no drilling. It never ranks in the awkward squad. It has no left hand, no deaf ear, no blind side. It puts on no looks of wondrous wisdom, it has no air of profundity; but plays with the details of place, as dexteriously as a well taught hand flourishes over the keys of the piano forte. It has all the air of common place, and all the force and power of genius. It can change sides with a key presto movement, and be at all points of the compass, while talent is ponderously and learnedly shifting a single point. Talent calculates clearly, reasons logically, and utters its oracles The wondering spectator was silent with awe, and after assisting the wounded man home, he told such a miraculous tale to the wondering villagers as secured for the young physician a reputation for skill but also for supernatural prescience. Thus did the merest accident contribute more to his advancement than years of studious toil could have done; and the impertinent curiosity of a waggish neighbor opened for him a path to business which the most influential patronage might never have been able to procure for him. Flowers. with all the weight of justice and reason. Tact refutes Luck. Galignani's Messenger. One inan sucks an orange and is choked by a pit, another swallows a penknife and lives; one runs a thorn into his hand and no skill can save him; another has a shaft of a gig passed completely through his body, and recovers; one is overturned on a smooth common and breaks his neck, another is tossed out of a gig over a Brighton cliff, and survives; one walks out on a windy day, and meets his death by a brick bat, another is blown up in the air, like lord Hutton in Guernsey Castle, and comes down uninjured. The escape of this nobleman was indeed a miracle. An explosion of gunpowder that killed his mother, his wife, some of his children, and many other persons, and blew up the whole fabric of the castle, landed him and his bed on a wall, overhanging a tremendous precipice. Perceiving the mighty disorder, he was going to step out of his bed to know what the matter was, which, if he had done, he would have been irrecoverably lost; but, at the instant of his moving, a flash of lightning came and showed him the precipice, whereupon he lay still till the people came and took him down. RECIPE.--To soften old putty, soft soap it. Correspondence of the Courier and Enquirer. EXPLORING EXPEDITION. only say if the same zeal animates the national expedition, and all on board that has this individual undertaking, a great triumph is in store for our country. I am, sir, with great respect, &c. yours truly, J. G. crew been on this iceberg, being without food. His health, however, appears better than when he went south. RIO JANEIRO, March 9, 1839. We all wish him a happy return to his country, with Nothing has been heard here from the national explo- the rich reward his toil and industry merit, and a long ring expedition since their departure from this port.-enjoyment with his friends in North America; and can The brig Medina, Capt. Elijah Hallet, arrived here on the 7th inst. direct from South Georgia, in a passage of 17 days, being one of three vessels fitted out by Mr. Burrows, of your city, to survey the southern frozen ocean, and the result confers great honor on the American flag. Mr. B. sailed from this port in the Medina during the month of June last, and at the Falkland Islands was joined by two other of his vessels, the Oseola, Capt. R. S. Hallett, and sch'r Mary Jane, Capt. ParWith this little fleet, he sailed for the frozen sea, and five days after fell in with a field of icebergs, twenty-five miles long and 300 feet high, the whole presenting the same uniform and level appearance as a sheet of new made ice. sons. They found large bays and good harbors around the icebergs, but no anchorage except by fastening to the ire. The outer edge of the ice was on all sides perpendicular cliffs about 300 feet high, and very similar to the appearance of many shores, particularly the chalky cliff's of England. Here the Oseola was separated from the other vessels, and did not rejoin them till they reached S. Georgia. The Medina and Mary Jane, the next day, re-discovered the Aurora Islands, six in number, and Mr. Burrows took five different drawings of them. This discovery is most gratifying and astonishing. The islands were discovered and described about 80 years ago, by the ship San Miguel, and since that have been erased from the charts, as the Auroca islands. Soon after this several of the most distinguished navigators, and among the number, Captain Waddell of the British navy, cruised over the ground in all directions, and agreed that they did not exist. They are about 300 feet high, running north and south, and 2 miles and a half long, without a ship passage between them. They are in lat. 53° 22', lon. 44° 18' W. and 26 miles north of the Shag Rocks. These islands lying in the track which vessels are often driven to when bound round Cape Horn, makes the replacing them on the charts a valuable acquisition to all who navigate those seas; and it is now believed that the Spanish 74, which sailed for the Pacific Ocean with about 800 souls, and was never heard from, was wrecked on these islands. I have been anxious as an American to learn all the inducements that led Mr. Burrows to undertake this desperate and dangerous adventure.From the best information I can derive, I believe he was induced to it from the most laudable of motives, hoping to rescue some of his friends and countrymen from a frozen world. It appears, a few years since his neighbor and townsman in Connecticut, Capt. Johnson, after consulting with Mr. B. and communicating to him his views, sailed from the port of New York bound into the antartic seas. Capt. J. was heard from in a high latitude, going south, since which no information has been had of him. Mr. B. knowing the course he intended to take, reached into the icy world apparently regardless of the fate that awaited him. He did not find any positive knowledge of Capt. Johnson, but he found eight wreeked vessels, and a house built from a wreck fitted for a winter's residence; he also found several graves, and one body not interred. For about six months no labor, toil nor suffering was spared, and I learn from Capt. Hallet that the fatigues, exertions and dangers Mr. B. encountered, were astonishing. He was shipwrecked on an iceberg, 5 miles from Georgia, and by a miracle was rescued by another boat that was driven by an accident to the spot where he was. For three days he had with his boat's THE PHYSICIAN'S CANE.-It was formerly the practice among physicians to use a cane with a hollow head, the top of which was of gold, pierced with holes, like a pepper box. This top contained a small quantity of aromatic powder or snuff; and on entering a house or room where a disease supposed to be infectious prevailed, the doctor would strike his cane on the floor to agitate the powder, and then apply it to his nose. Hence the old prints of physicians represent them with canes at their noses. SELECT POETRY. Poulson. HYMN TO THE MOON, OR DIANA. Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, State in wonted manner keep. Lay thy bow of pearl apart, And thy chrystal shining quiver; Time to breathe, how short soever; From the Farmer's Monthly Visitor. THE FIRST FLOWER. Ere melt the dews in liquid showers, Or trees their vernal robes renew, I find thee in the leafless wild, Did ape the lighter mood of Spring. This frail and sweet memorial left. No warbler of the glades is near, No scented shrub or flow'ret fair, But glittering flake and ice-pearl clear, Thy chill and mute companions are. But the same Power ordained thy birth, Thou first born of the race of flowers! From the New Yorker. TO THE BOB-O-LINKUM. Thou vocal sprite-thou feathered troubadour! And play in foppish trim the masquing stranger? And, Ariel-like, again on men to lavish ? They say, alike thy song and plumage changes. Here both are gay; and when the buds put forth, And leafy June is shading rock and river, Thou art unmatched, blithe warbler of the North, When through the balmy air thy clear notes quiver. Joyous, yet tender-was that gush of song Learned from the brooks, where, 'mid its wild flowers smiling, The silent prarie listens all day long, The only captive to such sweet beguiling? Or didst thou, flitting through the verdurous halls Her birch canoe o'er some lone lake is flashing? Detain thee while thy northern flight pursuing, To place those melodies in thy sweet mouth The spice-fed winds had taught them in their wooing? Unthrifty prodigal !—is no thought of ill The cadence of thy roundelay disturbing ever? THE RICHMOND COUNTY MIRROR: A WEEKLY PAPER PRINTED ON STATEN ISLAND, DEVOTED TO SCIENCE, LITERATURE, & NEWS. THREE DOLLARS PER ANNUM. SELECT TALES. From the Lady's Book. LOVE AFTER MARRIAGE. CONCLUDED. AUGUSTA and her friend are once more presented to the view of the reader, but the destiny of the former is changed. They are seated in a parlor side by side, but it is not the same, rich in all the ornaments of wealth and fashion that Augusta once occupied. It is in a neat rural cottage, in the very heart of the country, embosomed in trees and flowers. A few words will explain the past. Mr. Temple's open, generous, uncalculating disposition of the mercenary and treacherous. He never could refuse to endorse a note for a friend, or to loan money when it was refused with a look of distress. He believed his resources as exhaustless as his benevolence, but by the failure of several houses, with which he was largely connected, his estate was ruin and his daughter left destitute of fortune. NEW BRIGHTON, MAY 25, 1839. anticipated. It was in answer to her last, and breathed the language of hope and confidence. There was a warmth, a fervor of sentiment, far different from his former cold but kind communications. He rejoiced in the knowledge of her altered fortunes, for he could prove his disinterestedness, and show her that he loved her for herself alone, by returning and devoting himself to the task of winning her affections. VOLUME III.-NUMBER XVII, "Ah! my dear Augusta," said she, "if Allison's noble spirit had been enshrined in such a temple, you had not been parted now." Augusta felt the comparison to be odious. It brought before her the person of Allison in too melancholy contrast with that of the engaging stranger. "I thought it was Mary Manning," answered she, in a grave tone, "who once reproved me for attaching too much value to personal beauty-I never thought you foolish or unkind till this moment." "Say not, my Augusta," said he, in conclusion, "that I cannot win the prize. All the energies of my heart and soul are enlisted for the contest. I could look on "Forgive me," cried Mary, with irresistible frankyour beauty, all dazzling as it is, without much emotion; ness; "foolish I may be-indeed I know I am-but inbut the humility, the trust, the gentleness and feeling tentionally unkind to you-never, never." It did not expressed in your letter has melted me into tenderness. require the recollection of all Mary's tried friendship Dare I indulge in the blissful dream, that even now gilds and sincerity, for Augusta to accord her forgiveness.— this page with the hues of heaven? Augusta, the sad, Mary was more guarded afterwards in the expression of reluctant bride, transformed into the fond and faithful her admiration; but Augusta, in her imagination, had wife, cherished in my yearning bosom, and diffusing drawn the horoscope of Mary's destiny, and Clarence there the life, the warmth, the fragrance of love?" shone there as the star that was to give it radiance. A Augusta's tears rained over the paper. "Oh! Alli- constant guest of her father's, she thought it impossible son," she cried, the task shall not be in vain-I will for him to witness Mary's mild yet energetic virtues, love thee for thy virtues, and the blessing my dying fa- without feeling their influence. She was interesting, ther called down, may yet rest upon us." She was about without being beautiful, and Clarence evidently delightto fold the letter, when a postscript on the envelope meted in her conversation. To her, he was always more her eye. "Receive Clarence," it said, "as my friend When she descended into the room, where Clarence was seated, she could not repress a painful blush, from the consciousness that he was familiar with her singular history. "He must despise me," thought she, but the Mr. Manning suffered so much in the general loss that he was obliged to sell all he still possessed in the city and retire into the country, with limited means of subsistence. But he had still sufficient for all the comforts of life, and what he deemed its luxuries-books, music, he knows all my history, and the peculiarity of our situthe socialities of friendship, and the exercise of the kind-ation-he is interested in you for my sake-as a stranly charities. A cherished member of this charming fam-ger and my especial friend, may I ask for him the hospiily, Augusta, no longer the spoiled child of fortune, but table attentions of Mr. Manning's family?" the chastened disciple of sorrow, learned to estimate the true purposes of her being, and to mourn over her former perversity. With such ennobled views of life and its enjoyments, she began to think she might be happy with a husband with such irreproachable worth and ex-deference and respect of his manner forbade such an imalted attributes as Sydney Allison, even though he had the misfortune to be bald and sallow. But him she had banished, and when he would return? He had written once or twice, in the most affectionate manner, as a brother would write, he had spoken of amended health and reviving spirits, bu the spoke of his return as uncertain and even remote. She, too, had written, and her letters were transcripts of the progressive elevation of her character, and expressed with candor and warmth the just appreciation she had now of his own. She was uncertain whether they had ever reached him. It was long since she had received any tidings, and she felt at times that sickness of the heart, which suspense, unfed by hope, creates. "I bring you a messenger, who, I trust, is the bearer of glad tidings," said Mr. Manning, entering with a benevolent smile, and ushering in a young gentleman whom he introduced by the name of Clarence. "Augusta, you will greet him with joy, for he comes with letters from Mr. Allison, your husband." Augusta sprang forward, scarcely waiting to go thro' the customary form of introduction, and took the letter with a trembling hand. "Tell me, sir, do you know him-and is he well?" The stranger bent his dark and lustrous eyes on her with a look of undisguised admiration. "I know him intimately, madam-when I last saw him he was in perfect health, and animated by the prospect of a speedy return." Augusta waited to hear no more, but retired to her own chamber, to peruse the epistle she had so anxiously pression. Gradually recovering from her embarrassment, and finding him directing his conversation principally to Mr. Manning, she had leisure to observe one who had strong interest in her eyes, as the friend of Allison. And seldom does the eye of woman rest upon a more graceful or interesting figure, or a more expressive and glowing countenance. There was a lambent brightness in his eyes, a mantling bloom on his cheek, which indicated indwelling light and conscious youth. His hair clustered in soft waves round his temples, relieving by its darkness the unsunned whiteness of his forehead. Yet the prevailing charm was manner, and that indescribable charm that, like sunshine in the summer landscape, gilded and vivified the whole. The acquisition of such a guest gave life and animation to the domestic circle. Mr. Manning was a man of varied information, and the society of this accomplished traveller recalled the classic enthusiasm of his earlier days. Mary, though usually reserved to strangers, seemed fascinated into a forgetfulness of herself, and found herself a partaker of a conversation to which she was at first only a timid listener. Augusta, while she acknowledged the stranger's uncommon power to please, was pre-occupied by the contents of her husband's letter, and longed to be alone with Mary, whose sympathy was always spontaneous as it was sincere. She was not disappointed in the readiness of Mary's sympathy; but after listening again and again, and expressed her hope and joy that all would yet be for the happiest and best, she returned to the subject next in interest, the bearer of this precious document. reserved, yet there was a deference, an interest, a constant reference to her wishes and opinions, that was as delicate as it was flattering. He was the companion of their walks, and nature, never more lovely than in this delightful season, acquired new charms from the enthusiasin with which he sought out and expatiated upon its beauties. Mr. Manning was passionately fond of music, and every evening Mary and Augusta were called upon for his favorite songs. Now the music was finer than ever, for Clarence accompanied them with his flute, and sometimes with his voice, which was uncommonly sweet and melodious. One evening Augusta was seated at the piano; she was not an excellent performer, but she played with taste and feeling, and she had endeavored to cultivate her talent, for she remembered that Allison was a lover of music. She had played all Mr. Manning's songs, and turned over the leaves, without thinking of any particular tune, when Clarence arrested her at one which he said was Allison's favorite air. "Let us play and sing that," said he, repeating the words; "your husband loves it; we were together when he first heard it; it was sung by an Italian songstress whom you have often struck me as resembling. The manner in which your hair is now parted in front, with those falling curls behind, increases the resemblance—it is very striking at this moment." Augusta felt a strange pang penetrate her heart when he asked her for husband's favorite. There was something, too, in his allusion to her personal appearance that embarrassed her. He had paid her no compliment, yet she blushed as if she was guilty of receiving one. "I cannot play it," answered she, looking up, "but I will try to learn it for his sake." She could not prevent her voice from faltering; there was an expression in his eyes, when they met her's, that bowed them down in shame and apprehension. It was so intense and thrilling-she had never met such a glance before, and she feared to interpret it. "Shall I sing it for you?" asked he, and, leaning over the instrument, he sang, in a low, mellow voice, one of those impassioned strains which the fervent ge- | you unhappy, as it regards yourself, you may have cause nius of Italy alone can produce. The words were elo- of uneasiness; but, as it regards Allison, so far as I quent of love and passion, and Augusta, charmed, melt-know his sentiments, he has the fullest confidence and ed by their influence, could not divest herself of a feel- the brightest hopes of felicity. I once looked upon him ing of guilt, as she listened. A new and powerful light as the most unfortunate, but now I view him as the was breaking in upon her; Truth held up its blazing most blessed of men. When he told me the circumtorch, flashing its rays into the darkest corners of her stances of his exile, how lone and hopeless seemed his heart; and Conscience discovered passions of whose lot! Now, when I see all that woos him to return, anexistence she had been previously unconscious.-gels might covet his destiny." She saw, revealed in prophetic vision, the misery of her future existence; the misery she was entailing on herself and others, and a cold shudder ran through her frame. Mary, alarmed at her excessive paleness, brought her a glass of water and asked her if she were ill. Grateful for an excuse to retire, she rose and took Mary's arm to leave the room, but as she passed through the door which Clarence opened and held, she could not avoid encountering again, a glance so tender and impassioned, she could not veil to herself the language it conveyed. Augusta had thought herself miserable before, but never had she shed such bitter tears as bathed her pillow that night. Just as she had schooled herself to submission-just as she was cherishing the most tender and grateful feelings toward her husband, resolving to make her future life one long task of expiation, a being had crossed her path, who realized all her early visions of romance, and who gently and insidiously had entwined himself into the very chords of her existence; and now, when she felt the fold and struggled to free herself from the enthralment she found herself bound as with fetters of iron and clasps of steel. That Clarence loved her, she could not doubt. Enlightened as to the state of her own heart, she now recollected a thousand covert marks of tenderness and regard. He had been admitted to the most unreserved intercourse with her as the friend of her husband. Like herself, he had been cherishing sentiments of whose strength he was unaware, and which, when revealed in their full force, would make him tremble. "You forget yourself,” cried Augusta, not daring to take in the full meaning of his words-" it is not the of fice of a friend to flatter-Allison never flattered-I always revered him for his truth." Here Augusta wept in such anguish, that Mary, fin"Yes," exclaimed Clarence, "he has truth and in- ding the attempt to console her vain, threw her arms tegrity. They call him upright and honorable and just, around her and wept in sympathy; yet still she smiled but is he not cold and senseless to remain in banishment through her tears, and again and again repeated to her so long, leaving his beautiful wife in widowhood and that Heaven had yet long years of happiness in store. sorrow? and was he not worse than mad to send me Augusta, in the solitude of her own chamber, recovhere, the herald of himself, to expose me to the loveli-ered an appearance of composure, but there was a deadness, knowing that to see you, to be near you must be ly sickness in her soul that seemed to her like a foretaste to love, nay, even to worship." "You have driven me from you forever," rising in indignant astonishment, at the audacity of this avowal."Allison shall know in what a friend he has confided." "I am prepared for your anger," continued he, with increasing impetuosity, "and I brave it-your husband will soon return, and I shall leave you. Tell him of all my boldness, and all my sincerity; tell him, too, all the emotions that are struggling in your own heart for me, for oh! you cannot deny it, there is a voice pleading for my pardon in your bosom now, that tells you, that if it is a crime to love, that crime is mutual." "Then I am indeed a wretch," exclaimed Augusta, sinking down into a chair, and clasping her hands despairingly over her face, "but I deserve this humiliation." Clarence drew nearer to her-he hesitated-he trembled. The triumphant fire that revelled in his eyes was quenched; compassion, tenderness and self-reproach softened their beams. He was in the very act of kneeling to deprecate her forgiveness, when the door softly opened, and Mary Manning entered. Her step was always gentle, and she had approached them unheard. She looked at them at first with a smile; and upon Mary's face, at that mo She now constantly avoided his society. Her manners were cold and constrained, and her conscious eyes sought the ground. But Clarence, though he saw the change, and could not be ignorant of the cause, was not rebuked or chilled by her coldness. He seemed to eallment, it appeared to her as a smile of derision. forth, with more animation, the rich resources of his Clarence lingered a moment as if unwilling to depart, mind, his enthusiasm was more glowing, his voice had yet uncertain whether to remain or go-then, asking more music, and his smile more brightness. It was evi- Mary for her father, he hastily retired, leaving Augusta dent that she alone was unhappy; whatever were his in such a state of agitation, that Mary Manning, serifeelings, they inspired no remorse. She began to be-ously alarmed, entreated her to explain the cause of her lieve her own vanity had misled her, and that he only distress. looked upon her as the wife of his friend. She had mis- 'Explain!" cried Augusta, "you have witnessed my taken the luminousness of his eyes for the fire of pas-humiliation, and yet you ask me the cause. I do not sion. Her credulity abased her in her own estimation. One afternoon, Clarence found her alone. She had declined accompanying Mary and her father in a walk, because she thought Clarence was to be with them. "I did not expect to find you alone," said he, taking a seat by her side, "but since I have gained such a privilege, may I ask, without increasing your displeasure, in what I have offended? You shun my society, your averted looks, your altered mein" he paused, for her embarrassment had become contagious, and the sentence remained unfinished. claim your sympathy; the grief I now feel admits of none; I was born to be unhappy, and whichever I turn, I am wretched." "Only tell me one thing, dear Augusta; is all your grief owing to the discovery of your love for Clarence, and to the sentiments with which you have inspired him? There is no humiliation in loving Clarence, for who could know him and not love him?" Augusta looked in Mary's face, assured that she was uttering the language of mockery. Mary, the pure moralist, the mild but uncompromising advocate of duty The appeal was a bold one, but as a friend he had a and virtue, thus to palliate the indulgence of a forbid right to make it. den passion; It could only be in derision. Yet her "You have not offended me," at length she answer-eye was so serene, and her smile so kind, it was impossied, "but you know the peculiar circumstances of my ble to believe that contempt was lurking beneath. life, and cannot wonder if my spirits sometimes droop "Then you do love him, Mary, and I am doubly treawhen reflecting on the misery of the past, and the un-cherous. Mary blushed—“ with the affection of a siscertainty of the future." ter, the tenderness of a friend, do I regard him; I admire "If," said he, "the uncertainty of the future makes his talents, I venerate his virtues." of mortality. The slightest sound made her tremble, and when Mary returned to her, softly but hurriedly, and told her that her father wished to see her, she went to him with a blanched check and trembling step like a criminal, who was about to hear her sentence of doom. "I have something to communicate to you," said he, kindly taking her hand, and leading her to a seat, “but I fear you will be too much agitated.” "Is he come?" said she, grasping his arm with sudden energy-" only tell me he is come." "Your husband has arrived; I have just received the tidings that he is in the city and will shortly be here." Augusta gasped for breath; she pressed her hands on her bosom, there was such a cold, intolerable weight there; she felt the letter of her husband, which she had constantly worn as a talisman against the evil she most dreaded. That tender, confiding letter, which, when she had received it, she had hailed as the precursor of the purest felicity. "It is all over now," sighed she, unconscious of the presence of Mr. Manning. "Poor unhappy Allison, I will tell him all, and then I will lay down and die." "I hear a carriage approaching,” said Mr. Manning; "the gate opens-support yourself, my dear child, and give him the welcome he merits." Augusta could not move, her limbs were powerless, but sense remained;—she saw Mr. Manning leave the room, heard steps and voices in the passage, and then the door re-open. The shades of twilight were beginning to fall, and a mist was over her eyes, but she distinctly recognized the figure that entered--what was her astonishment to behold, instead of the lank form, bald brows and green shade, marked in such indelible characters on her memory-the graceful lineaments, clustering locks and lustrous eyes of Clarence! She looked beyond in wild alarm for her husband. "Leave me," she exclaimed, "leave me, or you will drive me to desperation." But Clarence eagerly approached her, as if defying all consequences, and reckless of her resentment. He clasped her in his arms, he pressed her to his heart, and imprinted on her cheek, brow and lips, unnumbered kis ses. "My bride, my wife, my own beloved Augusta, do you not know me? and can you forgive this trial of your love? I did not mean to cause you so much suffering, but I could not resist the temptation of proving whether your love was mine through duty or inclination. I have been the rival of myself, and have exulted at finding that love in all its strength has been mastered by duty, Augusta, I glory in my wife." Augusta looked up in bewildered rapture, scarcely |