Page images
PDF
EPUB

SELECT MISCELLANY.

From the London and Quarterly Review. Irish Humor and Irish Pathos.

that Kitty Mahony herself will be there?"

"She will."

"And the pig I ate; will the pig be to the fore?"
"He will."

"Och, thin, plaze yer riverence, if Kitty Mahony will
be there, and the pig will be there, what'll hinder me
from saying, "Kitty Mahony, bad luck to yer soul, there's
yer pig; sure wont that be restitution ?"

homeless and houseless as I am, than thousands—it's nothing but a kish, but my eldest boy-he, thank God, that's not to the fore to see his father's poverty this day --he slept in it many a long night, when the eyes of his little sister had not gone among the brght stars of heaven, but were here to watch over him :—it's nothing but a kish-yet many a time little Kathleen crowed, and held up her innocent head out of it to kiss her daddy:—it's nothing but a kish-yet many a day, in the midst of my slavery, have I, and my wife, and five as beautiful children as ever stirred a man's heart in his bosom—sat round it, and eat the praytie and salt out of it, fresh and wholesome; and whin I had my six blessings to look on, it's little I cared for the slavery a poor Irishman is born to:—it's nothing but a kish—but it's been full with me full, and it's been empty now, for many a long year, and it's used to me—it knows my throubles—for since the bed was sould from under us, for the last gale, what else had we to keep our heads from the could earth? For the love of the Almighty God, have mercy on a poor, weak, houseless man; don't take the last dumb thing he cares for—sure it's nothing but a kish !”

were tugging at his heart. He kept his eyes fixed upon the remnants of the furniture of his once comfortable cottage, that were dragged out previous to being carried away; he pointed to the potatoe kish which was placed Not long ago we expresed our sympathy for an old upon the table-that indispensible article in which the Irish woman-old, and very poor-who, in addition to potatoes are thrown when boiled, and which frequently, her other misfortunes had lost her teeth. "Time for me in the wilder and less civilizd parts of Ireland, is used to lose'm," she replied, "when I've nothing for'em to do." as a cradle for the "baby." "God bless you!" he exThis is 'Irish humor'-a definition in an anecdote. It But examples of Irish humor are, as we have said, claimed to the man! "God bless you, and don't take arrives most rapidly at a conclusion by the pleasantest sufficiently abundant; there is, however, an other char-that-it's nothing but a kish, it's not worth half a farroad-it accomplishes a purpose without a useless expen-acter, and par consequeence in all books about Ireland- thing to ye, it's falling to pieces; but it's more to me, diture of words; it is epigramatic and yet comprehen- as peculiar, as frequent, and as striking as the humor sive; it is ambiguous and yet easily understood; it is a which abounds in both; we mean Irish pathos. There picture as well as a speech; it tickles the ear; animates are many melancholy aids in the country that gives it the fancy; and indirectly flatters an auditor by enabling birth, which naturally increase its effect; but it does not! him to compliment his own quickness of apprehension, need them in the same proportion that Irish humor does; in taking in the full meaning of the words. Like every it goes straight to the heart, while its opposite works thing else that is Irish, it is peculiar; it is not a pun, or on the imagination; it follows or precedes the jest with a quiz; it is unstudied, it comes unsearched for, and un- extraordinary rapidity-the smile bursts forth before the called for, it has an air of simplicity, and yet simplicity tear is dry, but its sadness is certainly augmented by is not its character-it belongs more to the mind than witnessing the causes that produce it. There is a depth to the tongue, and more to the heart than either. To of pure and holy poetry in Irish pathos which cannot be relish Irish humor, it is almost necessary to see it acted, surpassed; its metaphors are appropriate, and attack our as well as to hear it spoken; then, indeed, you have it reason by the force of their beautiful simplicity. We in all its rich and racy perfection: the words of the Irish remember once passing by an Irish cottage on the estate speaker are always illustrated, explained and commented of an absentee landlord, whose agent had distrained for upon by his looks; his merry eye winks without an ef- rent; the family were of the very poor. A mother, whose fort-there is both shyness and slyness in his leer, the husband was only recovering from the "sickness," as muscles of his mouth agitate that expressive feature into typhus fever is always called, staggered from beneath almost a smile; his very frame partakes of the drollery the door-way, not from any weakness of her own, but of his countenance-the lounges against the door post from her efforts to support the wreck of what had once of his cabin,one foot rests upon the instep of another been, three years before, the finest young man in the there is a mingling of entire ease: and more than half parish. She was followed by two little children, the impudence, in the loose tie of his neckerchief and sit of small remnant of her family-three had been carried to his “cawbeen,” and when he has uttered a humorous sen- the grave by the disease from which the father was retence, the indescribable twist of the shoulder (the Irish covering; it was beautiful to see how that pale, thin, substitute for the Englishman's moderate, and the French- deep-eyed woman suffocated her own feelings with the man's immoderate, shrug,) is at once irresistable and in- | affection she bore her husband. imitable. Imagine for a moment a rosy cheeked Mun- "Don't cry afther the poor place, childre dear; sure ster man, paving rather leisurely the highway in Cheap- th' Almighty is above us all--and this last throuble has side, and, quite unconscious of the English dignity of a been sent in good, whin there's not so many of us to shopkeeper, blocking up a tradesman's door with a heap bear it. The could earth is heavy enough on Kathaof stones-"Take those stones away," quoth the trades-leen and Matty and Michael, but the throuble of this day man, in a fluster. "Is it the stones!" asks the Irish- would be heavier-for they were made up of feeling. man; "is it the stones? Why, then where would you Sure, my darlings, if there's power given the landlord now, he'll not be our landlord in the world above! The

have me take 'em to ?"

Games of Skill.

Nothing can be more ridiculous than the prejudice which exists among conscientious and well-intentioned people, against games of skill. What can be more pleasing and healthful than the exercise enjoyed at the game of billiards? And yet a reproach is cast upon this species of entertainment, in itself as innocent as walking or riding, because, forsooth, it has afforded repeated occasions of gambling! Setting aside the plain truth, that the best things can be turned to evil uses, we would inquire if dice have not been employed by gamblers? Yet the same person objects not to a backgammon board, who would be shocked at the idea of having a billiard

"Take them to H-1," replied the very angry ci- Lord be praised for the same! Don't cry afther the Ple table in his house. He will sit down at a whist table for

tizen.

Ellen, avourneen, what signifies it? May the little boy "I'll take 'em to Heaven, your honor, they'll be more take the cats itself, sir?" addressing the half-tipsy man out of your way there," was Paddy's reply. who had taken the inventory of the contents of their Darby Kelly went to confession, and having detailed miserable cabin. "Never heed it, my darlint, though his several sins of omission and commission, to which to be sure its only natural to like the dawshy cat that various small penalties were attached, at last came, with lay in his bosom all the time of his sickness. Keep up a groan to the awful fact that he had stolen his neigh- Michael," she whispered to her husband, who overpowerbor, Kitty Mahony's pig; a crime so heinous in the sighted by illness and mental suffering, resisted her efforts to of Father Tobin, that his reverence could by no manner of means give him absolution for the same. Darby begged and prayed and promised, but to no effect; no penance could make atonement, no repentance could produce effect; nothing in short, would do but restitution-that is to say to give back her own to Kitty Mahony. But a difficulty arose, inasmuch as Darby and Darby's 'childer' had eaten up the pig. Upon which the priest waxed wroth, and threatened the rogue with evil here and a terrible destiny hereafter. "And now hear me, ye vagabond cheat," he said, " when ye go up to stand yer trial, and find yerself among the goats, (for sheep ye are not) to get yer sentence, there'll be two witnesses against ye—there'll be Kitty Mahony that ye robbed, and the pig that ye ate-and what will ye do then, ye vagabond?"

"Och, plaze yer riverence, and is it true what ye say

hours together, and faint at the bare thought of entering a billiard room. We hope to see this absurd prejudice done away with. In England, nothing is more common than for the clergy to play at billiards. It is not a gambling game; it has no chances; it requires simply skill of sight and hand, and it may be harmlessly played even by ladies, for whom it is, by the way, an admirable kind

of exercise.

New Yorker.

A TENDER WISH.-A beggar in Dublin had been a long time besieging an old, testy, gouty, limping gentleman, who refused his mite with much irritability; upon which the mendicant said, “Ah, plaze your honor, I wish your heart was as tender as your toes."

POLITICIAN.-A person who can straddle a stump and "Fellow citizens."

drag him into the highway road; he glared upon the
bailiff with the glare of a famished tiger, so famished
that he has not the power to spring upon its foe impotent
in all but the fierce and racking thirst for blood. "What
signifies it? sure we'll be happier than ever-by'n bye,"
she added, while the haggard smile upon her lips was
the bitter mockery of hope. "Come away Michael I
wonder that you would'nt be above letting the like of
them, without a heart, see that you care about them or
their goings on. Oh! where is yer pride gone?—that,
and the silence together, put many a throuble over us
that's known only to ourselves and the Almighty-bles- The women that we saw on the banks of this stream
sed He is! He knows the throubles of the poor, and had the blue chemise descending below the knee, with a
keeps their secrets. Come away Michael? and don't let multitude of silver rings pending from the ears, and
them same nagurs see that it's the woman that puts cour-round their necks hung various colored beads intermixed
age in ye."
with silver coins. All of them wore their hair plaited
But the peasant heeded her not-the home affections like the thong of a whip, had tattoed chins, and some fe

say,

Arab Women.

were similarly marked between the eyebrows and round hair is plaited into several small tresses, some creeping but had commuted the soldier's sentence to confinement the neck. through the folds of the turban, while others, mignon-at hard labor in menial services about the army, during A young Arab girl is not at all bad looking, but no- nemeut engantele, recline upon the bosom. The rage for the whole term of his enlistment. He was also to have thing can exceed the disgusting appearance of the old jewellery is such that every poor artisan's wife possesses an iron chain and ball fastened to his leg, to be allowed women. Both sexes use the "kahel" to their eyelids, some few amethysts and turquoise, or wo betide the unno more clothing than was absolutely necessary, to reand wear ajeebs or charms against all disorders and mis- fortunate husband! ceive no pay, and at the expiration of his term to be disfortunes. Those women who belong to the pastoral honorably discharged. The soldier was then marched tribes never attempt to hide the face; it is only the fixed off by the guard. lagers who are so fastidious; and yet, I have seen those very damsels washing their clothes in perfect nudity; and, when they were surprised, actually covered their fa- | ces with their hands, entirely disregarding all other exposure.

[blocks in formation]

Osmanlee ladies of rank have a fortune in jewels
alone, besides many sets of valuable ornaments, such as
gold bracelets, necklaces, clasps, studs and buttons—a
sight of which would drive Rundell and Bridge mad
with envy.

Embroidery is brought to great perfection by the ladies
of the harems, and all articles of dress from Bagdad are
highly prized throughout Turkish Arabia. The north-
ern part of the town which surrounds the palace of the
Pasha is inhabited solely by Turks, who, from extreme
jealousy about their women, prevent all Franks residing
in that quarter, which is thus appropriated to themselves
alone.
Capt. Mijan.

Oriental Fanaticism.

Early Rising.

"From March to November, at least, no cause save sickness, or one of equal weight, should retain us in bed a moment after the sun has risen;" so says Dr. Granville, in his Catechism of Health, upon whose rules, however, we cannot consent to act. The following, from Time's Telescope, is more in accordance with our notions:

"Whoever is found in bed after six o'clock, from May day to Michaelmas, cannot, in any conscience, expect to be free from some ailment or other dependent on stuffed lungs, disordered bile, or impaired digestion. Nothing A wretched lunatic now in Bombay, took a little slip can be done-absolutely nothing-if you do not rise earof the Tulsi tree, planted it in a pot, placed it in the palm ly, except drugging your draughts, a luxury which the of his left hand, and held it above his head, in which po- indolent morning sleeper must prepare himself to purchase sition it has remained for five years, The Tulsi has dearly. We give him joy of his choice; bid him goodgrown a fine shrub; the muscles of the arm which sup-bye, and springing out into the sunny air, we gather port it have become rigid and shrunken; the nails of the health from every passing breeze, and become young fingers have grown out and they curl spirally downward again among the glittering May-dew and the laughing to a great length; yet the wretched devotee sleeps, eats, May-flowers. drinks, and seems quite indifferent to his strange position, having lost his remembrance of pain in public applause.

Californian Polygamy.

Cutch.

"What a luxury do the sons of sloth lose!" says Hervey in his flowery reflections on a flower garden; "little, ah! little is the sluggard sensible how great a pleasure he forgoes for the poorest of all animal gratifications!" Be persuaded; make an effort to shake off the vineyards;" mark the budding flowers; listen to the pernicious habit. "Go forth," as King Solomon says, "to the fields; lodge in the villages get up early to the joyous birds; in a word, cultivate morning pleasures, and health and vigor will most certainly follow.

Storming of Constantina.

The ravines at the foot of the rock were filled with the

and old, who lived in great unity and peace, esteeming
their children and their children them. Parentage or re-
lationship forms no obstacle to their intermarriages. It is bodies of those who had rolled from above; heaps were
very common for the wife to urge her husband to marry
her sisters, and even their mother; and the custom is,

seen of the dead, the dying, the wounded and the muti

The ladies of Bagdad appeared to us to enjoy as much liberty of action as those of Tabriz, and were equally desirous of showing their beauty. When they ride in the streets, they wrap themselves up in large silken chaders of various gaudy colors, and obscure their pretty faces with thin horse hair veils, which fasten to the temples by two silver clasps. They also wear the yellow hessian boots, the slipper and the trowsers, of course.— The veil should never be raised in the public street, but how often are the laws of decorum transgressed, especially when they exchange doux yeux with the Franks. They consider their dress a very disagreeable one when These people have their marriages, but they consist of compared to the costume of European ladies, and have long since voted a change, which, however, the Turks they are only binding till they disagree or choose to part. no other ceremony than the consent of the parties, and will not permit. It certainly must be a most uncomfort- They have no other mode of cancelling a marriage than able garb for practising "equitation," especially when we remember that all these ladies ride not only en cava-theless true, that we found many couples, both young by using the phrase, "I throw you away." It is neverlier, but a la planchette. Of all the women I have seen in this and other large Asiatic cities, the Persian are in my opinion, the prettiest; and although travellers extol the beauty of the Circassian ladies, I can affirm they do not approach the Persian, with whom every thing is the work of nature. A fine head of hair, which often reach- when a man first marries, that he takes the whole of the lated. Men, women and children lay in masses, perishing miserably and in agonies; for all others were too much occupied to assist them. The sight of men who any sensibilities, for it is nothing more than you are prepared to see; but when women and children are included among the killed, such is not the case; and few can gaze upon them in this state unmoved. In the town, I was witness to a little scene which considerably affected me. Entering a house whose entrance was paved with the numerous bodies of the valiant defenders, we found a door which was locked; the soldiers burst it open and found that it had been still further secured by the inmates with boxes and trunks placed against it. A woman had locked herself in with two children: one of them at the breast. She thought herself secure! but we found all three killed, a shell having entered the ceiling and burst in the room. The mother and the little boy appeared to have been, when struck, at different extremities of the room, We found them in the centre, embracing each other with the grasp of death, and the train of blood showed that they had dragged themselves there from different corners. The floor was strewed with toys and play things, many dabbled in the blood.

es nearly to the ground, is the first care; the next point sisters for wives. These many wives of one husband is the mouth—a woman to be thought pretty, must have live withont jealousies or disputes, each looking on the "her mouth smaller than her eyes." This is a prover-whole of the children as if they were their own, and the have been killed fighting is one which does not inspire

bial expression, and if not quite correct, is not far from it. With all their good looks, however, the face is rather too round, but in Persia this is greatly admired, for the Persians always compare a pretty face to the "full moon." (To be admired by the Persians, a woman must have the eyes of a gazelle, the waist of a cypress tree, and a face like the full moon.) They do not paint, like many English ladies of my acquaintance, although they use a little soap to the cheeks, which is quite dry and innocuous in its effects, and which imparts a brilliant color. I wonder they do not sell this "savon sans pareille" in London, for I am persuaded that Trufitt, Ross, or any other artiste en cheveux, would speedily make a fortune by the dowagers in Eaton and Belgrave squares alone. In the harems of many of the government officers here, there are both Georgian and Circassian ladies, as well as Turkish and Persian. As they have no opportunity of seeing the "Journal des Modes, or the "World of Fashion," they can take no hints on the important subject of female costume. Their head dress is, however, very becoming. It consists of a Cashmere shawl turban, wound up in as elegant a manner as Madame Devey could arrange it, and ornamented with pearls, rubies, sapphires and other precious stones. 'The

|

whole living in one house.

Forbes' California.

An Incident at Camp Washington.
Camp Washington at Trenton now comprises about
700 troops; Captain Summer's company of 90 dragoons,
all mounted on black horses, having duly arrived from
Carlisle, Pa. The troops usually drill in companies,
from half past 9 to 11 in the morning, and from four to
half past five in the afternoon; and parade about half
an hour before sun-down. The State Gazette mentions
the following incident.

At the parade on Monday evening, which took place
just about sun down, a soldier, a native of Poland, whom
the spectators had previously observed bound to a tree,
was brought out before the troops drawn up in line; and
an officer read in a loud and distinct voice that he had
been tried by a court martial, and found guilty of desert-
ing his post, and of mutiny while in Florida. His sen-
tence was that he should be shot in the presence of the
army. The spectators, who had visited the camp for the
sake of amusement only, shuddered as they heard this;
and feared that the man would be shot before their eyes.
The officer read on. The case had been referred to the
President; and he had approved the action of the court,

Although these are events which unfortunately often occur in besieged towns, still you cannot avoid starting with horror and pain when they present themselves to view.

SELECT POETRY.

From the American Museum.
INFANTS ASLEEP.

How beautiful they are-that infant pair,
As they lie wrapped in calm and dreamless sleep,
Nesting like mated doves-and mingling sweet
The perfume of their pure and gentle breaths,
On his fair sister's snowy arm, the boy

Hath couched his downy cheek, and she hath thrown
Her head upon his bosom lovingly.

So motionless they lie, each might be taken

For a creation of the sculptor's art,

But that the azure and transparent veins
That wander through their alabaster brows,

And the soft hue that mantles o'er their cheeks

Like the reflection of a rose on snow,
Proclaim the hand of Deity is there.

There is a charm about their loveliness,

Beauty, material only could not give,
'Tis in the exquisite repose which tells

That souls unsullied, and hearts free from guile,
Within those graceful tabernacles dwell:
No human passion mars their tranquil rest,
No feverish dreamings, such as haunt the soul
Which hath had commerce with the busy world,
Raising up shadowy phantoms of the past,
And visions of the future-there they lie
In their consummate grace, twin cherubim,—
Fresh from their God-all purity and peace.

From the Delaware Journal.
THE EARLY DEAD.
They go, a fresh and beautiful band
To the sunny sky of the "spirit land;"
To the music soft of an angel choir,
They hymn their joy on a golden lyre;
Gladly, ah gladly, they soar away
As a bird uncaged, or a child at play.
They go while the rainbow of hope is fair,
Its arch unbroken by sin or care;
While rosy tint of their life's young glow
sas bright as a sunbeam on beds of snow:
And they pass gently, as softly on,

As the snow flake melting, till all are gone.
They go while untouched by the opening blast
Which withering time on the old hath cast;
While fancy painteth the amethyest hue
With the diamond glitt'ring and blending thro';
As the nightly host in their mildest beam,
Or the impassioned trust of the lover's dream.
They go when the tendrils of love entwine
Round the heart, untouched by the wintry wind;
While the spring hath nought in its early bloom
For its lovely ones, of despair, and gloom;
While each balmy urn on the flowering strand
Sends forth rich odors through all the land.
They go ere the lattice on which they clung
Of its fairest and dearest hath lost not one;
Till lost to the bark, is its guide and stay,
Tossing about on the trackless way;
They go while are mirrored the cherished forms
Which the stream of youth on it bosom warms.
They go-and why should they linger here
Outliving all gifts that are sweet and dear,

Till the crystal drop of the morning flies,

And life's fair stream at the montain dries?
Ah! mourn for the things that to the earth are wed,
But not, ah mourn not the early dead.

JUNE.

BY DR. HOLMES.

'Tis far in June-the tenth of June-
The month of leaves and roses-
And pleasant sights should meet the eyes,
And pleasant smell the roses;
They say that Time is on the wing,
And Autumn on the gaining,
But who would know it when it is
Perpetually raining!

I got my summer pantaloons
A month ago on Monday,
And I have never had a chance
To wear them on a Sunday.
It's time for all the pleasant things,
For walking, riding, training,
But there is nothing in the world
But raining, raining, 1aining.
The weather cock has rusted east.
The blue sky is forgotten,
The earth's a saturated sponge,
And vegetation's rotten;

I hate to see the darkest side,
I hate to be complaining,

But hang me if my temper stands
This raining, raining, raining."

From the Boston Morning Post.
THE POOR MAN.

What man is poor? not he whose brow
Is bathed in Heaven's own light,
Whose knee to God alone must bow,
At morning and at night—
Whose arm is nerved by healthful toil,
Who sits beneath the tree,

Or treads upon the faithful soil,

With spirit calm and free.

Go let the proud his gems behold,

And view their sparkling ray,— No silver vase or yellow gold

Can banish care away.

He cannot know that thrilling dream
Which smiles within the cot,
Where sunny looks and faces gleam,
To cheer the poor man's lot.
What man is poor? not he whose brow
Is wet with heaven's own dew,
Who breathes to God the heart-felt vow,
Whose pledge is deep and true.
The morning calls his active feet

To no enchanting dome,
But evening and the twilight sweet,
Shall light his pathway home.

From the New Yorker.

THE FAREWELL.

Once, a stolen kiss, the lightest,

Every nerve with rapture shook, So the violet seems the brightest

That in early March we pluck. Wreaths no more to win thy glances, Nor the rose, I cull for thee;

It is Spring-time, dearest Frances!
But 'tis Autumn drear to me.

From the Knickerbocker for June.
CONTENT.

BY PARK BENJAMIN.

Oft I turn from dazzling pleasures,
Pompous pageants, splendid sights,
To my dear domestic treasures,
Fireside joys and home delights.
Seated near the book-strewn table,
Which a shaded lamp illumes,
Reck I not of wealth unstable,
Broad domains, or spacious rooms.
But I pore, in mute reflection,

O'er some mighty master's line;
And I con, with deep affection,
Loving looks that speak to mine.
Printed leaves, ye are my blessing!

Friends, ye are my wealth and pride! Your true thoughts and hearts possessing, What to me the world beside? Sharing not the wordy quarrel,

For a thorny crown of power-
Struggling not to win a laurel
Frailer than the summer flower.
In secluded paths of duty,

Only by the humble trod,
Live I, blest with dreams of beauty-
Hope for man, and trust in God.

-

THE EMERALD ISLE.

BY MISS CATHARINE H. WATERMAN.

Far, far o'er the waves of the blue glancing waters,
Sweet Erin, my country, I wander to thee,
Thy free hearted sons and thy bright smiling daughters
Are calling me home o'er the wild swelling sea.
My heart has gone out like a wild bird before me,
And rests on thy shore as I linger the while,

I bless the bright heaven that sweetly shines o'er me,
And the bark that is nearing the Emerald Isle.
Yes, Erin, green Erin, tho' long years have whitened
The dark shading locks that hung o'er my brow,
Yet closer in fondness the cords have they tightened

Of the heart that is yearning to be with thee now. In fancy I grasp the brave hand of my brother,

I see the glad light of a sister's fond smile,

I stand in the hall of my father and mother,
Who welcome me back to the Emerald Isle.
Dear land of the grateful-where every emotion
Of kindness is fostered, of friendship sincere,
And where every breast in its loyal devotion,
Would barter its life's blood to spare thee a tear.

FROM THE GERMAN OF GOETHE.-BY MRS. C. M. SAWYER. Oh beautiful land, whose sunny eyed daughters

Let mine eyes the farewell tell thee
That my tongue essays in vain;
Sad hour, would I might repel thee!
Though a man, I dread thy pain.
Mournful seem e'en those caresses
Love at parting hour may ask;
Cold the kiss thy lip impresses,

Weak thy hand's impassioned clasp.

Wear hearts on the lips that have never known guile, I hasten to thee, o'er the far swelling waters, My home and my country, the Emerald Isle.

The man who sharpen'd first the warlike steel,
How fell and deadly was his iron heart!
He gave the wound encount'ring nations feel,
And death grew stronger by his fatal art.

THE RICHMOND COUNTY MIRROR:

A WEEKLY PAPER PRINTED ON STATEN ISLAND, DEVOTED TO SCIENCE, LITERATURE, & NEWS.

THREE DOLLARS PER ANNUM.

NEW BRIGHTON, JUNE 29, 1839.

VOLUME III.-NUMBER XXII.

SELECT TALES.

From the Lady's Book.

THE FATAL COSMETIC. OR, THE EVILS OF "WHITE LIES."

BY MRS. C. L. HENTZ.

and deep that the very blind might see, and the cold ear Charles availed himself of the earliest opportunity of of deafness hear."

introducing his friend to Miss Howard, glad to be libeMr. Hall spoke with warmth. The eyes of the com-rated for a while from the close companionship of a man pany were directed towards him. He was disconcerted who made him feel strangely uncomfortable with regard and remained silent. Miss Lewis rose from the piano to himself, and well pleased with the opportunity of conand drew towards the fire. versing with his favorite, Mary Ellis.

"I am getting terrilly tired of the piano," said she. "I don't think it suits my voice at all. I am going to take lessons on the guitar and harp-one has so much more scope with them; and then they are such graceful instruments!"

"I feel quite vexed with Margaret," said this thoughtless girl, "for spoiling my compliment to Miss Lewis. I would give one of my fingers to catch her for once in a white lie."

"Ask her if she does not think herself handsome," said Charles! "no woman ever yet acknowledged that truth, though none be more firmly believed."

"You are perfectly right," replied Miss Ellis, the young lady with the ingenuous countenance, "I have no doubt you would excel on either, and your singing He little expected she would act upon his suggestion, would be much better appreciated. Don't you think so, but Mary was too much delighted at the thought of sceMargaret?" continued she, turning to a young lady ing the uncompromising Margaret guilty of a prevaricawho had hitherto been silent, and apparently unobserv-tion, to suffer it to pass unheeded. ed.

CHARLES BROWN sat with Mr. Hall in a corner of the room, apart from the rest of the company. Mr. Hall was a stranger, Charles, the fan.iliar acquaintance of all present. The latter evidently retained his seat out of politeness to the former, for his eyes wandered continually to the other side of the room, where a group of young ladies was gathered round a piano, so closely as to conceal the musician to whom they were apparently listening. The voice that accompanied the instrument was weak and irregular, and the high tones excessively disagreeable and shrill, yet the performer continued her "You know I do not," answered she, who was thus songs with unwearied patience, thinking the young gen- abruptly addressed, in a perfectly quiet manner, and fixtlemen must be turned into the very stones that Orpheusing her eyes serenely on her face, "I should be sorry to changed into breathing things, to remain insensible to induce Miss Lewis to do any thing disadvantageous to her minstrelsy. There was one fair, blue-eyed girl, herself, and consequently painful to her friends." with a very sweet countenance, who stood behind her chair, and cast many a mirthful glance toward Charles, while she urged the songstress to continue at every pause as if she were spell-bound by the melody. Charles laughed and kept time with his foot, but Mr. Hall bit his lips, and a frown passed over his handsome and seri

ous countenance.

"What a wretched state of society," exclaimed he, that admits, nay, even demands, such insincerity!— Look at the ingenuous countenance of that young girl; would you not expect from her sincerity and truth? Yet with what practical falsehood she encourages her companion in her odious screeching."

66

Really, Miss Howard," cried Miss Lewis, bridling and tossing her head with a disdainful air, "you need not be so afraid of my giving you so much pain-I will not intrude my singing upon your delicate and refined ears."

Mr. Hall made a movement forward, seemingly at tracted by the uncommon sincerity of Miss Howard's remark.

"There," whispered Charles, "is a girl after your own heart-Margaret Howard will speak the truth, no matter how unpalateable it may be, and see what way faces poor Miss Lewis makes in trying not to swallow it-I am sure Mary Ellis's flattery is a thousand times kinder and more amiable."

Mr. Hall did not answer. His eyes were perusing the face of her whose lips had just given such honorable testimony to a virtue so rarely respected by the world of fashion. A decent boldness lighted up the clear ha

"Take care," answered Charles, "you must not be too severe. That young lady is a very particular friend of mine and a very charming girl. She has remarkably popular manners, and if she is guilty of a few little innocent deceptions, such, for instance, as the present, I see no possible harm in them to herself, and they cer-zel eyes that did not seem to be unconscious of the dark tainly give great pleasure to others. She makes Miss Lewis very happy, by her apparent admiration, and I do not see that she injures any one else."

Mr. Hall sighed.

“I fear,” said he, "I am becoming a misanthropist. I find I have very peculiar views, such as set me apart and isolate me from my fellow beings. I cannot enjoy an artificial state of society. I consider truth as the corner stone of the great social fabric, and where this is wanting, I am constantly looking for ruin and desolation. The person deficient in this virtue, however fair and fascinating, is no more to me than the whited sepulchre and painted wall."

"You have, indeed, peculiar views," answered the other gentleman, coloring with a vexation he was too polite to express in any other way; " and if you look on the necessary dissimulations practised in society as falsehoods, and brand them as such, I can only say that you have created a standard of morality more exalted and pure than human nature can ever reach."

[ocr errors]

I cannot claim the merit of creating a standard that the divine Moralist gave to man, when he marked out his duties from the sacred mount, in characters so clear

and penetrating glances at that moment resting upon them. She was dressed with remarkable simplicity.— No decoration in eolor relieved the spotless whiteness of her attire. Her hair of pale, yet shining brown, was plainly parted over a brow somewhat too lofty for mere feminine beauty, but white and smooth as Parian marble. Her features, altogether, bore more resemblance to a Pallas than a Venus. They were calm and pure, but somewhat cold and passionless-and under that pale and transparent skin there seemed no under current, ebbing and flowing with the crimson tide of the heart. Her figure, veiled to the throat, was of fine, though not very slender proportions. There was evidently no artificial compression about the waist, no binding ligatures to prevent the elastic motion of the limbs, the pliable and graceful movements of nature.

"She has a fine face, a very handsome face," repeated Charles, responding to what Mr. Hall looked, for as yet he had uttered nothing; but to me, it is an uninteresting one. She is not generally liked-respected, it is true, but feared, and fear is a feeling which few young ladies would wish to inspire. It is a dangerous thing to live above the world—at least, for a woman.'

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

'Margaret,” cried she, approaching her, unawed by the proximity of the majestic stranger-" Mr. Brown says you will deny that you think yourself handsome. Tell me the truth. Don't you believe yourself handsome?"

"I will tell you the truth, Mary," replied Margaret, blushing so brightly as to give an actual radiance to her face, "that is, if I speak at all. But I would rather decline giving any opinion of myself,"

"Ah, Margaret," persisted Miss Ellis, "I have heard you say that to conceal the truth, when it is required of us, unless some moral duty were involved, was equivalent to a falsehood. Bear witness, Charles, here is one subject on which even Margaret Howard dares not to speak the truth."

"You are mistaken;" replied Miss Howard, "since you force me to speak, by attacking my principles, I am very willing to say, I do think myself handsome; but not so conspicuously as to allow me to claim a superiority over my sex, or to justify so singular and unnecessary a question."

All laughed-even the grave Mr. Hall smiled at the frankness of the avowal-all but Miss Lewis, who, turning up her eyes and raising her hands, exclaimed— Really, Miss Howard's modesty is equal to her politeness. Ithought she despised beauty.”

"The gifts of God are never to be despised,” answered Miss Howard, mildly. "If he has graced the outer temple, we should only be the more careful to keep the indwelling spirit pure."

She drew back as if pained by the observation she had excited; and the deep and modest color gradually faded from her cheek. Mr. Hall had not been an uninterested listener. He was a sad and disappointed man. He had been the victim of a woman's perfidy and falsehood, end was consequently distrustful of the whole sex. His health had suffered long from the corrosion of his feelings, and he had been compelled to seek in a warmer climate, a balm which time alone can yield. He had been absent several years, and had just returned to his native country, but not to the scene of his former residence. The wound was healed, but the hardness of the scar remained.

One greater and purer than the Genius of the Arabian Tale, had placed in his breast a mirror, whose lustre would be instantaneously dimmed by the breath of falsehood or dissimulation. It was in this mirror that he saw reflected the actions of his fellow beings, and it

[ocr errors]

was not one of those beings who cannot do but one thing at a time. She could talk and listen, while her hands were plying the brush, or arranging the colors, and look up too from the canvass, with a glance which showed how entirely she participated in what was passing around her.

"

pay a constant penalty for the singularity of my feelings: like the priestess of the ancient temples, I am accused of saying dark sayings of old, and casting the shadows of the future over the bright joys of the present."

pained him to see its bright surface so constantly sullied. I was conscious that the tribute was deserved. Margaret pendencies, I ceased to be mirthful. I am doomed to Never since the hour he was so fatally deceived, had he been in the presence of a woman without a melancholy conviction that she was incapable of standing the test of this bosom talisman. Here, however, was one whose lips cast no cloud upon its lustre. He witnessed the marvellous spectacle of a young, beautiful and accomplished woman, surrounded by the artifices and embellishments of fashionable life, keeping the truth, in all simplicity and godly sincerity, as commanded by the holy men of old. There was something in the sight that renovated and refreshed his blighted feelings. The dew falling on the parched herbage prepares it for the influence of a kinder ray. Even so the voice of Margaret Howard, gentle in itself and persuasive, advocating the cause he once venerated, operated this night upon the heart of Mr. Hall.

For many weeks the same party frequently met at the house of Mrs. Astor. This lady was a professed patroness and admirer of genius and the fine arts. To be a fine painter, a fine singer, a fine writer, a traveller or a foreigner, was a direct passport to her favor. To be distinguished in society for any thing was sufficient, provided it was not 'a bad eminence' which was attained by the individual. She admired Mr. Hall for the stately gloom of his mien, his dark and foreign air, and his peculiar and high-wrought sentiments. She sought an intimacy with Margaret Howard, for it was a distinction to be her friend, and moreover, she had an excellent taste and skill in drawing and painting. Mary Ellis was a particular favorite of hers, because her own favorite cousin, Charles Brown, thought her the most fascinating young lady of his acquaintance. Mrs. Astor's house was elegantly furnished, and her fine rooms were adorned with rare and beautiful specimens of painting and statuary. She had one apartment which she called her Gallery of Fine Arts, and every new guest was duly ushered into this sanctuary, and called upon to examine and admire the glowing canvass and the breathing marble.

A magnificent pier glass was placed on one side of the hall so as to reflect and multiply these classic beauties. It had been purchased in Europe, and was remarkable for its thickness, brilliancy and fidelity of reflection. It was a favorite piece of furniture of Mrs. Astor's, and all her servants were warned to be particularly careful, as they dusted its surface. As this glass is of some importance in the story, it deserves a minute description. Mrs. Astor thought the only thing necessary to complete the furnishing of the gallery, were transparencies for the windows. Miss Howard, upon hearing the remark, immediately offered to supply the deficiency, an offer at once eagerly accepted, and Mrs. Astor insisted that her painting should be placed in the very room, that she might receive all the inspiration to be derived from the mute yet eloquent relics of genius, that there solicited the gaze. Nothing could be more delightful than the progress of the work. Margaret was an enthusiast in the art, and her kindling cheek always attested the triumph of her creating hand. Mrs. Astor was in a constant state of excitement till the whole was completed, and it was no light task, as four were required, and the windows were of an extra size. Almost every day saw the fair artist seated at her easel, with the same group gathered round her. Mary Ellis admired every thing so indiscriminately, it was impossible to attach much value to her praise, but Mr. Hall criticised as well as admired, and as he had the painter's eye and the poet's tongue, Margaret felt the value of his suggestions, and the interest they added to her employment. Above all things, she felt their truth. She saw that he never flattered, that he dared to blame, and when he did commend she

Margaret seldom alluded to herself, but Mary's accuI wonder you are not tired to death of that everlast-sation about the thorns and briars had touched her, ing easel," said Mary Ellis to Margaret, who grew eve- where perhaps she was alone vulnerable, and, in the ry day more interested in her task. "I could not endure frankness of her nature, she uttered what was parasuch confinement." mount in her thoughts.

"Death' and 'everlasting' are solemn words to be so lightly used, my dear Mary," answered Margaret, whose religious ear was always pained by levity on sacred themes.

"I would not be as serious as you are for a thousand worlds," replied Mary, laughing, "I really believe you think it a sin to smile. Give me the roses of life, let who will take the thorns. I am going now to gather a few, if I can, and leave you and Mr. Hall to enjoy all the briars you can find."

[ocr errors]

'Happy are they who are taught by reflection, not experience, to look seriously, though not sadly upon the world," said Mr. Hall, earnestly: "who mourn from philanthropy over its folly and falschood, not because that falsehood have blighted their brightest and dearest hopes! nay cut them off, root and branch, forever."

Margaret was agitated, and for a moment the pencil wavered in her hand. She knew Mr. Hall must have been unhappy—that he was still suffering from corroding remembrances-and often had she wished to pierce She left the room, gaily singing, sure to be immedi- | through the mystery that hung over his past life, but ately followed by Charles, and Mr. Hall was left the now, when he himself alluded to it, she shrunk from sole companion of the artist. Mary had associated their an explanation. He seemed himself to regret the has names together for the purpose of disturbing the self- ty warmth of his expressions, and to wish to efface the possession of Margaret, and she certainly succeeded in impression they had made; for his attention became rivher object. Had Mr. Hall perceived her heightened co-eted on the picture, which he declared wanted but one lor, his vanity might have drawn a flattering inference; thing to make it perfect. but he was standing beside her easel, and his eyes were "And what is that?" fixed on the beautiful personification of Faith, Hope, and Charity—those three immortal graces—she was delineating, as kneeling and embracing, with upturned eyes and celestial wings. It was a lovely group-the last of the transparencies; and Margaret lavished upon it some of the finest touches of her genius. Mary had repeated a hundred times that it was finishsd, that another stroke of the pencil would ruin it, and Mrs. Astor had declared it perfect, and more than perfect; but still she lingered at the frame, believing every tint should be the last.

"Truth encircling the trio with her golden band," he replied.

"It may yet be done," cried Margaret, and with great animation and skill, she sketched the outline which he suggested.

It is delightful to have one's own favorite sentiments and feelings embodied by another, and that, too, with a graceful readiness and apparent pleasure that shows a congeniality of thought and taste. Mr. Hall was not insensible to this charm in Margaret Howard. He esteemed, revered, admired, he wished that he dared to love her. But all charming and true as she seemed, she was still a woman; and he might again be deceived. It would be a terrible thing to embark his happiness once more on the waves which had o'erwhelmed it, and find himself again a shipwrecked mariner, cast upon the cruel desert of existence. The feelings which Margaret inspired were so different from the stormy passions that had before reigned over him, it is no wonder he was unconscious of their strength, and believed himself still his own master.

Every lover of the arts knows the fascination attending the successful exercise and developement of their genius-of seeing bright and warm imaginings assume a coloring and form, and giving to others a transcript of the mind's glorious creations; but every artist does not know what deeper charm may be added by the conversation and companionship of such a being as Mr. Hall. He was what might be called a fascinating man, notwithstanding the occasional gloom and seriousness of his manners. For, when flashes of sensibility lighted up that gloom, and intellect, excited and fully brought in- "Bless me," said Mary, who, entering soon after, to action, illumined that seriousness-it was like moon- ' banished,' as she said, Mr. Hall from her presence, for light shining on some ruined castle, beauty and gran- he retired; "if you have not added another figure to the deur meeting together and exalting each other, from the group. I have a great mind to blot Faith, Hope and effect of contrast. Then there was a deep vein of piety Charity, as well as Truth, from existence," and playfulpervading all his sentiments and expressions. The sim-ly catching hold of the frame, she pretended to sweep her ile of the ruined castle is imperfect. The moonbeam falling on some lofty cathedral, with its pillared dome and "long drawn aisles," is a better similitude, for devotion hallowed and sanctified every faculty of his soul. Margaret, who had lived in a world of her own, surrounded by a purer atmosphere, lonely and unapproachable, felt as if she was no longer solitary, for here was one who thought and sympathized with her; one, too, who seemed sanctified and set apart from others by a mysterious sorrow, which the instinct of woman told her had its source in the heart.

"I believe I am too serious, as Mary says," cried Margaret, first breaking the silence, “but it seems to me that the thoughtless alone can be gay. I am young in years, but I began to reflect early, and from the moment I took in the mystery of life and all its awful de

hand over their faces.

"Oh, Mary, beware!" exclaimed Margaret, but the warning came too late. The easel tottered and fell instantaneously against the magnificent glass, on which Mrs. Astor set such an immense value, and broke it into a thousand pieces. Mary looked aghast, and her companion turned pale as she lifted her picture from amid the ruins.

"It is not spoiled," said she, "but the glass!"

"Oh! the glass!" cried Mary, looking the image of despair; what shall I do! What will Mrs. Astor say? She will never forgive me!"

"She cannot be so vindictive," replied Margaret, "but it is indeed an unfortunate accident, and one for which I feel particularly responsible."

"Do not tell her how it happened," exclaimed Mary,

« PreviousContinue »