A TALE I HEARD IN CENTRAL

PARK.

One glorious autumn day I sought the Park, and after rambling from one path To the weary citizens of New York to the other, observing the varied hues there can be no nearer approach to an of the dying vegetation, I at last found earthly paradise than Central Park, and rest upon a rustic seat. My pocket held that already famed resort indeed m rits a small edition of Tennyson, and I soon the lavish praise bestowed upon it. May was following the fortunes of Arthur's all honor be accorded the benefactors of Knights and the history of his Table the metropolis who thus provided a Round. Deeply engaged in that poem breathing-place for the multitude, where of purest spirit, I did not for some the clamor of the city cannot pursue them time notice that two children were and its busy cares may be, for the mo- intently watching me. At last the moment, laid aside. I am enthusiastic in tion of one toward my seat attracted my admiration for Central Park and my attention-a bright-eyed, curlythink it deserves more honorable mention headed little girl whose cherub face exthan even the great Boston Organ. I pressed a childish curiosity as to my emhave not visited the romantic scenes of ployment. Her companion, evidently Europe, but still, its smiling landscapes, her brother and but a little older, with tortuous paths seemingly lost in the far- lustrous eyes, firm-cut features and black off foliage, and its flower-embroidered shining tresses, made up a most picturarbors, have for me an inexpressible esque group! I dearly love children, charm. In no gondola have I ever glid- and soon with the girl on my knee, and ed along the waters that kiss fair Venice, the boy by my side, was pointing out but I have sailed upon Central Park Lake, the illustrations of the poem and exand in the sky above, the moon-silvered plaining their meaning. While intent mirror beneath and the shadowy trees on this occupation and answering their around, I have found phases of nature numerous questions, the appearance of to wonder at and to admire. When my a lady attired in mourning proved an readers consider what an offence it is in interruption, and my two newly-made the eyes of ultra fashionable Americans to friends ran away from me to her with find anything worthy of praise and at- joyous cries of "Grandma! Grandma!" tention in their own land, they may Children effect introduction between judge of the enormity of my crime in strangers far better than decorous peoexpressing a plebeian taste for the beau- ple do in society, and by the common ties of a mere park. Well, let my hum- tie of "my wonderful book" I was soon ble enjoyment, be so condemned. All conversing with their grandma. I know or care is, that when my heart was as perfect a type of venerable old bids fair to be encrusted with too much age as I have ever seen. Erect, with a worldliness and my mind is overcast with calm, steady eye, the pleasant quietness. troubling cares, I seek the grateful re- of her countenance was not marred by treat of Central Park, and amid the the wintry frost of her whitened locks. murmurings of its tiny cascades, the There are many beautiful sights upon sighs of the waving trees and the merry earth, but none fill me with such songs of its thousand little warblers. I strive to forget the existence of such a thing as business and the value of dollars and cents.

VOL. III.-12.

She

emotions as I feel when observing old age gradually descending to the grave, in happiness, contentment and peace. It would seem as if a gleam of sunshine

gave heart and hand to the cause. The "rising" was made, and patriotism, without discretion, of course fell a prey to well-organized despotism. The walls of a British dungeon closed upon him,

from the other land, had come down to ment of "'48" had gone among the brighten the short remaining years of events that were, and her son had atlife. Let others admire the laughing tained full manhood. He, too, took unto gayety of youth-then there can be no himself a wife, a tender, gentle woman, reason for lack of happiness—but let me who existed among the hardy villagers gaze upon the smile of resignation that as delicate flowers live beneath the chases away the wrinkles of time, and I sturdy forest oaks. Prosperity beamed find therein a beautiful moral, a soul- upon him, but, like that which favored sustaining hope! his father, it was destined to be shortThe lady belied not her appearance, lived. Two children God had given and I never shall forget the charm of him-my little friends-when the old her voice and the attractive dignity fierce Celtic desire for liberty and nacharacterizing all her movements. tionality made itself evident. among the Whether my youth necessitated no con- men of Ireland. The widow's son ventional reticence or the confidence paused not to consider probabilities of between her grand-children and myself success-perchance he burned to avenge which had now become quite hearty, his father's untimely fate, and at once attracted her toward me I knew not, but in the friendly interchange of opinions that followed, I became acquainted with some of her history. It was a sad one, and I could well realize the strength of the fate which had remained undaunt- and therein he lay, condemned by the ed through difficulties and misfortune. voice of a packed jury to a worse senThe daughter of an humble but pros-tence than death. The shock was too perous farmer in the south of Ireland, overwhelming for his wife, and with a she married at the early age of eighteen a young man of her own station in life. Though the union was one of love and affection, and remained so to the end, her wedded existence was a short and unhappy one. Her husband undertook the management of a small farm, and Men, innocent, and patriots guilty, though possessing fair chances of suc- had been made victims to satisfy encess, his endeavors were defeated by lightened Britannia's vengeance; a few causes once very common in the Green years had intervened, and pressing conIsle. An indifferent landlord in Lon- siderations of state policy made it exdon, a crafty agent and a good comfort-pedient to liberate some of the rash lovable papist-hater were the three condi- ers of Irish independence. The widow's tions necessary to any honest man's over- son was once more free, but prison life throw, and they effected her husband's had crowded the wearing away of years misfortune. Eviction took place, the into months, and destroyed all the beauman sickened and died, and the woman ty of manhood. Not that his spirit was (my informant) with a feeble child, was one whit subdued, Oh! no-chains had compelled to seek the shelter of a but driven the longing for freedom deepstrange but friendly roof. er into his soul. He was a true Irishtheir faults, an Irish

mother's kiss upon her lips, a last embrace of her children and a prayer for her husband, she went to stand as an accuser of oppression before that throne where kings and armies cannot shield national crimes.

Years passed on, the abortive move-man, and with all

Friendship is but a hollow mask,

Ambition but an empty name, And disappointment waits on him Who follows in pursuit of fame. And then at last we droop and fade

Like autumn leaves, that fall and die,
With no kind hand to raise the head,
And gently close the dying eye.

Follow'd by strangers to the grave,
Few our departure to deplore;
The clay falls coldly on the breast,

The mound is raised, and all is o'er !
And yet not all; for in that land

Where tears and trials never come,
Thank God, we yet may join the band
Who shared with us our childhood's home.

THE BLIND PAINTRESS.

short time, life seemed to bloom, a second Eden, to the youthful and romantic artist. It was all too bright to last. Her husband died, and the unhappy widow, unable to live where everything reminded her of her lost happiness, returned by way of Genoa to Italy.

Orazio Lomellino, the captain of the ship in which Donna Sofonisba returned, was one of the bravest, as he was one of the handsomest, of men. His life had been a scene of romantic interest, from the varied interests which had checkered his career upon the sea; and his relation of these, and the fascinating manner in which he brought them, distinct and graphic as a picture, before the minds of his audience, roused all the en

The year 1530 saw the birth of Sofonisba Angiusciola. She was born at Cremona, and, like many of her country- thusiasm of his passengers, and made women, her chief education was in the him a hero at once. He, however, modnoble art of painting. She was a rela- estly disclaimed any such pretensions, tive of Pope Pius IV., and one of her and placed all his own deeds in an unmost successful efforts was the portrait assuming light; but no one who knew of Isabella, Queen of Philip II. It was Lomellino could forbear the tribute of a present from the King to the Pope. admiration. Toward his lady passenger In her earlier years she had studied with his manner was a beautiful blending of Bernardino Campo and Bernardo Gatti, sympathy and reverence, accompanied and under their instructions had in turn with a protecting air that the widow become a thorough portrait and histor- could not but be grateful to him for ical painter. Her first portraits were showing. those of her father and two of his chil- Arriving in Italy, Sofonisba resumed dren, and these brought her a reputation the study of art, and strove to silence which has been kept in honorable re- her grief by an increased attention to membrance. The "Marriage of St. its pursuit. Her life in Sicily came back Catherine," in the Pembroke collection to her only as a beautiful dream, the inof Wilton, is hers, and the portrait of cidents of which, bright and brief as Sofonisba herself, playing on a harpsi- they were, it seemed to her that she chord, is there also. Her three sisters, Lucia, Europa and Anna Maria, were also painters.

could almost transfer to her canvas. She passed three years in this way, alternately dreaming of the past, and laying up a reputation for the future. Her home grew lonelier every succeeding year. Her sisters were all married, and

If genius has its exquisite delights, it has also its exquisite sufferings. It was so with the sensitive heart of Sofonisba. Her marriage with a Sicilian nobleman, her parents had lain down in the same Don Fabrizzio di Moneada, brought her slumber in which her dearest friend was all the happiness she could look for. She sleeping. Only herself and a young accompanied him to Sicily, and, for a brother remained, and it was on account

of her 'loneliness solely that he refrained from leaving Italy altogether, to find a new home; but he loved his sister too well to permit him to do this.

It was too true. Some misgivings, it seemed, she had felt, but could not endure to give them expression, lest they should wound the brother's affectionate They Kved very simply. The pretty heart; and, besides, she had never anItalian cottage in which she was born ticipated anything so complete and sudhad been improved and embellished by den as this. Oculists were called in, Sofonisba's wealth, until it needed noth- and the best advice consulted, but in ing more to make it a paradise. It was vain. Never again would those eyes shaded on three sides with beautiful that loved so well to look upon the face trees, and on the north were picturesque of nature, and direct the cunning hand views that would enchant a painter's to copy its beauties-never again would eye. Glimpses through the foliage at the south and east showed vineyards, mantling with purple grapes, and on the southwest the waters of the Mediterranean lay like a "glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form glasses itself in tempests."

Within, all was elegance, but so simplified that it did not seem to clash with the modest style of the building, or the retired life of its owners. The room where Sofonisba painted and that which she devoted to music were the two most frequently occupied by her. But to Julius, the library had greater charms. Here they had collected a vast amount of books, in all languages, while paintings and statuary were not wanting.

they behold the light of day. Beantiful eyes were they, indeed, and all untouched, to outward appearance, by the cruel disease. No one would have dreamed that they did not see as well as ever. The disorder was of that peculiar nature that, while it destroys all hope of recovery, leaves the eyes in their original beauty and brightness.

Now then, indeed, the world in which Sofonisba had lived was dark and dreary in the future. Now, indeed, did the affectionate brother give up all thoughts of leaving her, and resolved to devote his life to her happiness. Long before he had ceased to mourn over her privation, she had become most truly reconciled. She lived now in the world within, instead of the world without. Now she more fully valued her wealth of books, since she could remember and repeat what Julius had read to her.

Her delicacy of touch as a painter stood her now in good stead. Through its subtle power, she could more easily than others distinguish what she wanted to find, without asking for it; and in her walks, when she wished to be alone, her little dog was a sufficient safeguard.

One of those delightful days which rise and set only on Italy, or at least are lovelier there than elsewhere, was just dawning. Julius had been up and waiting long for his sister to appear. The servants brought in breakfast, but still nothing was heard from Sofonisba The brother was alarmed at this departure from her usual custom. It had been her delight for years to greet the hour of dawn. He hastened to the door of her room, and called to her to look forth apon the loveliest day of the year. Her" God, in closing my eyes, has opened sobs reached his ear, and he entered. to me a better vision. True, I cannot see the trees as I walk beneath them, but

"How shall I tell you, my brother.

"I am not unhappy," she would say.

I cannot see a ray of light. Julius, II hear them as they bow to the blind aram blind!" tist who loved to paint them, and the