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beauty from enervating the mind; languor and for the long line of dust-bestowing wheels, and satiety are unknown to her children; they are, the train of swaggering impertinent footmenas ihey have ever been, bustling, cheerful, hard- many imported, with other English inconveworking. What a contrast to the Romans ! niencies, from their lobbies in Portland Place or The Florentines are not handsome; the rough Hyde Park Square. I recollect two young winter winds make them hard and haggard in I ladies who once sat with me in a costume that complexion, and the broad flapping straw hats I would have been charming at one of Lady of the women are not a pretty substitute for the / Shelley's morning fêtes in June; but there was graceful white veils of the oriental-looking something ludicrously incongruous when they Genoese. They cheat, too, like all Italians; responded in the Litany, “ Lord have mercy and their trade consists of skilful bargaining. on us miserable sinners!” fidgetting all the while But they put more spirit into their chafiering to dispose their voluminous brocade so as to than the indolent Romans do ; and it is no bad avoid ihe dust of their neighbours. You will pastime to watch two “old hands” coming to blame me for noticing them instead of attending terms about a tenpenny candlestick or a shilling to my own devotion; and that is exactly why I printed kerchief. When first I went to Florence, complain of the peacocks in church, who will I was utterly puzzled at the immensity of the spread their plumage, and distract such birdkerchief trade, which is principally carried on in wits as mine and many others. the open street. A man wheels a huge barrow, Florence is precious in the eyes of housecovered with staring checked, striped, and keepers for its cheapness in matters of food and spotted cotton handkerchiefs, bearing a strong lodging. I shall never forget the emphasis with evidence of their Manchester paternity. A boy which an Irish lady exclaimed to me—“Sugar
, accompanying the barrow tears the air with good white loaf sugar, is threepence a pound." eries, in the harsh accent of Tuscany—“ Splen- and it is not an unfitting specimen of Florentine did faggoletti, ladies and gentlemen! beautiful plenty. In a café, you get an excellent cup of patterns! largest size! only tenpence-only coffee, with a buttered and toasted roll, for threesevenpence --- only fivepence!” You may be pence; and if you choose to add eggs, threesure they are sold—the men take them for their balfpence furnishes you with a couple, smoking noses, the women for their necks. There is no hot, in a platter in which they have been dressed limit to the trade in cotton faggoletti. Another with butter, a fashion not at all disagreeable. article of itinerant sale are trashy ribbons of They have here a mode of eating a raw egg in gay colours, streaming over their barrow like cottée, which I think both tasty and nourishing; a recruiting sergeant's cockade. The women they drop the egg into a tumbler, and beat it up seize on them for their straw hats or silk bon- with sugar by means of a round stick, shaped nets; as for matching hues, they never dream for the purpose; to this they gradually add of it. Indeed, now that I am on that all interest- coffee and boiled milk, stirring carefully during ing theme, I must need say the Italians outdo the admixture till the tumbler brims over ; and even the cockneys in bad taste and love of I assure you, if you taste it once you will call gaudy frippery--quantities of bows, quantities for it again. The Tuscan wine is pleasant, of ill-made coarse artificial flowers, and scarfs having a peculiar nippiness, as a Scotch boy contrasting violently with their gowns, are their would call it, for it bites the tongue like horse: gala attire. The patterns of their gowns are radish, when the flask is first opened ; but if hideous to a degree, and the materials often allowed to stand, it falls flat as stale soda-water. costly. The silks in Florence are pretty, and Lodgings in this pretty town are very moderate, cheap; and the English residents take advan- and I cannot fancy a more bewitching residence tage of this to go in silken sheen every day. for people of strong constitution; but the cliThey are favourably distinguished from the mate is very trying to those whose chests are Italians by a tidiness which is never seen in delicate, and its winter is almost as cold as that this country's children. The Romans are even of London. We left it in the middle of Nomore slatternly and shabby and gaudy than the vember, having suffered exceedingly irom the Florentines. But I must do them this justice : severe mountain winds which sweep the l'al they never make the rite of religion an occasion D'Arno like the besom of destruction. If you for unusual dress. I used to feel ashamed on want to feel these winds with their sharpest a Sunday to see my pretty fellow-countrywomen edge, you must climb, as we did, the tower of the at the Florence Protestant chapel—such flounces Palazzo Vecchio. This old building was my and veils, and feathers and flowers; such rust- favourite haunt in Florence; it stands in the ling of silks when they knelt, and waving of sunniest, most cheerful square of all the town, plumes when they stood up; bracelets jingling where there is a market once a week, and a on the arın, scents perfuming the air ; delicate crowd of picturesque idlers always. Opposite its gloves, that touched daintily the prayer-book. Guelphic battlemented mass is the present PostAll this disgusted me, as unbecoming to the office-a long, low, rambling edifice, with a house of God. The Catholics, on the contrary, deeply - projecting roof. It was the work of make no parade when they go to mass ; and it the Pisan captives in the fourteenth century; is very rare for them to roll to church in their they were made to labour on it in droves, carriages, as the English always do, to the great like criminal convicts. I never went there for discomfort of the pedestrian worshippers, who my letters but I thought of Pharaoh and the can scarcely reach ile door of the sacred edifice Israelites. The avenging spirit of the unhappy
prisoners still seemed to cast an evil spell over, other, are as the immortality of mind, in which the afíairs managed there. I never saw a post- one thought succeeds another without intermisoffice so badly organized—letters were conti- sion, and keeps up the brilliancy of life. Therenually lost or mislaid ; two addressed to me fore, much as I love flowers, they please me were given up by us after many fruitless efforts, better growing; and I think a room far more and nearly three months subsequently inade richly adorned by hyacinths in glasses, and their stale and withered appearance in Rome, geraniums in pots, than by the profusest bouwith added postage and diminished interest. quets in vases, which must constantly be The Piazza takes its name from the “ Gran changed, or they die lividly before your eyes. Duca,” and is embellished with a mighty war- Altogether the Florentines seem a happy people. horse in bronze, bearing a mighty warrior, I hardly think they require any additional liberty, Cosmo I. de Medici, a work of Giovanni though the abolition of the spy system is much Bologna. I know but two equestrian statues to be praised. The fever of military vanity that in spirit and expression I can name with which had seized the citizens, is, I fear, likely to this : the one is our own Charles at Charing injure their trade. Already many prudent Cross, the other Marcus Aurelius in the square housewives were heard to murmur that the of the Capitol. Of all these three statues we marchings and counter-marchings of the Civic may say, as the artist of Peter the Great did Guard interfered sadly with the shop ; and truly after pointing out the defective shape of the one cannot help echoing the question of Blackhorse of Marcus Aurelius, and the merits of wood,“ What do they want with so large a Peter's steed, his own handywork, Mais militia ? no one is going to invade them.”cependant, messieurs, il faut avouer que cette Leopold being by blood an Austrian, will surely vilaine bête là est vivante, et que la mienne est be cautious of any collision with that great, and morte.", Truly Giovanni Bologna did not deal on the whole judicious government. I wish the in dead horses, nor yet in dead men; his Italians liberty, if they know what to do with it; fault, on the contrary, is an exuberance of life,' but the longer one lives here, the more one a too active and unrestrained animation of doubts that Italy can govern herself. The new gesture and of attitude. I hear with exceeding constitutions which the various sovereigns have indignation that the Alba journal, the new organ granted to their subjects open a new problem in of Tuscan liberalism, proposes to remove this mas- Italy's history; but unluckily Lombardy, and ter-piece of republican art, and to substitute in its Romagna chafe more violently as they see themplace a statue of the reigning Duke, rechristening selves outstripped in the race of innovation. the Piazza by the name of “ La Costituzione !" Whether Lombardy will be the better of a I confess this political barbarism stirs my bile. popular government is doubtful; but this is If they wish to disembarrass themselves of their certain, that Rome cannot be the worse--any gratitude, why not give Leopold a niche among change must improve her. Her trade stagnantthe great men of Florence? Let him stand side her manufactures a nonentity-her people overby side with Ferrucios, and vis-à-vis to Michael taxed and starving-she has everything to gain Angelo. Can his ambition desire more? But and nothing to lose in a popular commotion. to banish renowned Cosmo, and degrade And however Pio Nono ma temporise and Giovanni's work from its place of honour! it stave off the evil hour, come it will, and the were to outrage the dead. I did not dislike the long reign of priestly sloth and peasant sufferFlorentine patriotism ; it partook of their natural ing will be destroyed in blood. Rome will vivacity, and vented itself in songs and cockades. have demagogues instead of cardinal-princes ; A few outbreaks did occur during our stay; a
and as far as the good of the many goes, I mob broke into the quarters of the Sbirri in should say their influence was pretty equal in its search of an obnoxious spy, and finding his benefits. -- Any how, my dear friend, I must place empty, indignantly dragged forth the close this heterogeneous budget; if I appear to bedding of the unlucky police, and burned it in differ in my political impression from time to the Piazza. The government pacified them by time, remember firstly, that I hold the cleverest abolishing the office of spies, of which there had woman's opinions on such subjects to be very been a large secret force, embracing in it many crude, and consequently, mine must be exceedof those pert privileged flower-girls, who are the ingly so, not aspiring to that title of “ cleverest;" pest of the Florence streets. They go sailing and secondly, this is a transition time; and about in smart dresses, with quantities of lovely in such a fluctuating uncertain nation as the little bouquets, penetrating into every shop and Italians, you hardly know what their morrow café, accosting every one familiarly, and forcing mav bring forth. Meantime I am, ever yours, on you their pretty perishable wares. I do not like cut flowers ; I can hardly analyze this dis
P. P. C. like, but I think it is, that when once severed from the parent stem, their brief beauty, their quick decay, calls up the saddest associations of human mortality. A withered flower turning into corruption brings before me the loathing God cannot love a bad man, nor can he be respected
AN APHORISM.-- (From the Greek of Plato.) part of death, its terrible blackening of the form
or admired by his fellows, inasmuch he caunot be we loved so dearly. But flowers on the plant, in any sympathy or communion with them.-blooming, budding, falling, and renewing each GEORGE J. O. ALLMANN.
THE COTTAGE-GIRL'S WISH.
BY MRS. ABDY.
From a youth in active duty spent
THE OLD LOVE AND THE NEW.
BY A. T
Lady, whose courtly and winning grace Bespeak thee born of a noble race, At the morning hour I see thee ride On thy palfrey white, by the forest side ; When the shades of evening dimly fall, I watch the lights in thy shining hall, And often I think-since thoughts are free-. How blest were my lot could I change with thee ! Splendid attire I would daily wear, I would bind with a string of pearls my hair ; I would dreamily rest in perfumed bowers, Upon silken cushions embossed with flowers ; Then pace on my ambling steed, or float On the silvery lake in a painted boat, And at eve I would sumuon a mirthful throng To join the banquet, the dance, and song. Lovers unnumbered should sue to me I would smile on a youth of high degree; And guests should assemble far and wide, To view the bridal, and bail the bride : Music should pour forth its choicest layRoses and myrtles should strew our way; The board should with costly cheer abound, And bonfires gleam on the bills around. Yet I would not linger 'mid wood and dellI would hasten in dazzling scenes to dwell; I would gaily glide through crowded rooms, In radiant gems, and in waving plumes : I would never sigh for a revel passed, For another should still succeed the last ; Oh, Lady! happy the heart would be Of the cottage-girl could she change with thee !
THE LADY'S REPLY.
BY MRS. ABDY.
She lov'd him-yes, he read it in her face; In the warm blushes she would fain subdue ; In her sweet smile of soul-enthralling charm ; In her soft downcast eye of darkest hue. She lov'd him, and he deem'd be lov'd againNot blindly, as she lov’d, but passing wellAnd so he look'd unutterable things, And said he felt more than he dar'd to tell. They parted; he was sad for several days; He miss'd her grateful look of timid bliss ; He wore her lock of hair next to his heart, And wrote some verses on their parting kiss. He gave up waltzing-sigh'd at liveliest ballsThought of her till the thought began to tireSaw a new beauty, fifty times more fair, And dropp'd Love's relics in his parlour-fire. Meanwhile, the maiden toil'd from morn to eve'Tis true her cheek grew pale, her eye wax'd dimBut this she heeded not; her ev'ry thought Turn'd towards the home she was to share with him. She sketch'd his profile-lov'd to gaze upon it ; Told it her many doubts, and hopes, and fears; And wept above the raven curl he gave, Until its gloss was sullied by her tears. They met: it was his face she saw again ; It was his voice-she heard its thrilling tone ; But ah! another leant upon his armThat arm he us'd to say was all her own; He spoke-his words to her were strangely cold; His looks betoken'd pitying surpriseThen a dark cloud obscur'd the noonday sun, And the whole scene faded before ber eyes. That day and all the next he felt remorse ; He wished he had not seen her haggard face ; Since they must part 'twas folly to arouse Memories beyond his power to efface. He blam'd himself and half the world beside ; Vow'd that her look would haunt him all his life; Was chilling, absent, and abrupt by turns, And almost quarrell’d with his future wife. But soon be grew more calm, more worldly-wise ; His new love was endow'd with beauty-wealth; His old one lack'd alike these valu'd gifts (Bright eyes and lips dwell not with ruin'd health); He sigh'd a little o'er her blighted youth; Wonder'd if she would break her heart or no, And tried to think it natural that his bride Should think of nothing but her rich trousseau. And they are wedded-and be lives to prove 'Tis hard even to be, in seeming, kind To one who has each charm of face and form Except the matchless charm conferr'd by mind. He lives to loathe her sweet unmeaning smile ; To weary of her beauty's magic art; To own a ruby lip and sparkling eye Poor compensations for a soul and heart.
Ranisyate, March 18, 1848.
Maiden, who paintest in hues so bright
THE BROKEN PITCH E R.
(From the German of Zchokke.)
BY ELIZA A. ASHURST.
olives and acacias, before every young villager It is true La Napoule is but a little place, but knew that no lovelier maiden dwelt in all the it is well known in all Provence. It is beau- land than was to be found in that little cottage. tifully situated in the evergreen shade of palm
Did she stroll through the streets, like an and orange trees, but it is not this circumstance angel of beauty, in her green boddice and flutalone which renders it celebrated.
tering garments, with an orange blossom or It has the character of producing the finest rosebud in her bosom, and ribbons and flowers grapes, the sweetest roses, and the prettiest girls adorning the little grey hat which shaded her in the world. I cannot vouch for the truth of pretty face, then did the old men wax eloquent, this, but I am quite willing to believe it. It and the young men become dumb with ad
miration. is a great pity that, as La Napoule is so small a place, it cannot be expected to produce enough and window open, and":
One after another, right and left, did door fine grapes, sweet roses, and pretty girls, other
Good-morning,” or wise we might have had a chance of a few of sides ; and smiling and nodding to all, she re
Good-evening, Mariette,” greeted her from all them finding their way into our country. Ever since La Napoule was a place at all, it
turned their salutations. had been celebrated for its beautiful women, bridegroom had become cool, more than one
But since Mariette's arrival, more than one therefore the little Mariette must have been a lover faithless. This caused endless trouble and wonder of wonders, to occupy so prominent a place in its annals. Although she went by the many tears. Instead of marriages, separations name of the little Mariette, she was as tall as
were the order of the day. Even ribbons, rings, girls just turned of seventeen usually are; that and other love-gifts were sent back, and instead, is, her forehead reached about the height for the baskets were the only presents sent.* The old lips of a well-grown young man.
people got involved in the quarrels of their chilThe annals of La Napoule had good reason to dren ; vexation and strife went from house to speak of Mariette. Indeed I must have done house; all joined in one cry. “It is all Mariette's
fault, ," said the maidens: then followed their it, if they had not. When Mariette, who with her mother, Manon, until then had dwelt in mothers, then the fathers, and last of all the Avignon, returned to her birth-place, she com
young men said so too. pletely upset everything; not exactly the houses,
As for Mariette, in the simplicity of her inbut the people and their heads; not perhaps the nocence, she was unconscious as a rosebud in head of every person in the place, but more and was friendly and courteous to all.
its green calyx of the commotion she was causirg, particularly of those who found their greatest danger arise from the neighbourhood of a soul
The young men first came to their senses, and speaking pair of eyes. I can sympathize from
said, Why trouble the innocent maiden? it is my heart in such a danger—it is no joke.
not her fault.” Then followed their fathers, then Much better for every one would it have been the mothers, and last of all even the maidens bad Mother Manon remained in Avignon ; but said so too. No one in fact could talk with a little inheritance fell to her in La Napoule
.. had passed, every one had talked with her, and
Mariette and not like her; and before six months some furniture, a small vineyard, and a pretty little cottage, sheltered by a rock behind it, and every one liked her; but she, poor child, was overshadowed by olives and acacias. Such things just as unconscious of the favour they bore her
, are not to be rejected by a poor widow, and and just as little expected the love, as she had now, in her own opinion at least, Mother Manon before been aware of the hatred she had inwas as rich and happy as though she had been spired. What does the sweet violet think or Countess of Provence herself.
care about its favour or its beauty ? So much the worse for the poor villagers !
Now every one wished to atone for former inThey, poor souls, had no forebodings of the justice. Repentance heightened the tenderness evils hanging over them. They had never read of their feelings. Every where Mariette found in Homer that one pretty woman sufficed to set
more friendly greetings than ever, and more all Greece and Asia Minor by the ears !
cordial invitations to their little festivals and
country dances. HOW THE MISFORTUNE HAPPENED. Scarcely had Mariette been a fortnight in her * In Germany, to send a basket means to send a new home, so prettily overshadowed by the refusal of love.
THE HARD-HEARTED COLIN.
pleasure. It is true, he almost always preached Bit all men have not the gift of sweet coin
from one of two texts, in which all his ideas passion! Some harden their hearts like Pha- "Children, love one another;" and, “The ways
of doctrine seemed sumined up. These were raoh !
A remarkalıle instance of this hard-hearted- of heaven are wonderful.” Truly, in these two ness, was young Colin, the richest fariner and texts there is combined a great deal of faith, landholder in the vicinity; whose vineyards and hope, and charity. So thought the villagers, olive gardens, orange and pomegranate groves, especially the young people, who put their trust one could scarcely walk through in a day. He in heaven, and loved one another. Colin alone, had already shown his sad want of heart, by to the command; and even when most friendly
with his flinty heart, seemed to pay no attention having lived till twenty-seven without ever having inquired what use pretty maidens were of in tlié outwardly, his heart really was the hardest. world. It is true that everybody declared he
The villagers greatly enjoyed going to the was one of the best young men in the world. yearly, fair at Bence.' It was a merry time, His figure, his natural unconstrained manners, though there were more wares to be bought than his glance, his very laugh had the good fortune money in their pockets to buy them with. to please everybody.
Mariette went with her mother, and the maBut still, though every one else in La Napoule bought for all his female friends, but none for
licious Colin also. Many were the gifts that he had long ago expiated their unkind feelings Mariette; and yet he was always following her; towards Mariette, Colin remained unaltered. Did the conversation turn upon ber, he was
but she neither spoke to him, nor he to her. mute as any fish. Did he meet her in the street, Everybody might see something was going he turned red and white alternately, apparently
wrong. from anger, and cast sidelong bitter looks at her,
Suddenly, Mother Manon stood still before mortifying to see. If in the evenings the young what a beautiful pitcher! A queen need not be
one of the stalls, and exclaimed, “Oh, Mariette! people met on the sea-shore, or by the ruins of the old castle, to dance or divert themselves, ashamed to drink out of it. See, the brim of it or to sing in chorus, Colin was always there is all gilt! And look, the flowers seem just as But no sooner did Mariette make her appear. And only look, it is the garden of Eden; and
though they were growing in a real garden! ance than the malicious Colin was silent directly, and all the gold of the Indies would not have how the apples on the Tree of Life glisten! got another note out of him. Such a loss, too, Eve begs him to taste them. And how that
Adam cannot resist them when that beautiful as his fine manly voice was! Everybody adlmired it, and inexhaustible was he in song. All pretty lamb plays about; and the tiger leaps the young maidens, however, favoured the hand- joyfully; and that snow-white dove, with the some, hard-hearted Colin; and he was pleasant green and gold neck, fears not the vulture, and and friendly with all, though he had, it is true,
seems as though she would bill and coo with rather a roguish look, which they both liked
hin!" and feared; but then, when he laughed, he was
Mariette could not see enough of the pitcher. a perfect picture !
“ Had I such an one,” said she, “I should However, the mortified Mariette saw little of think it far too fine to drink out of; I should all this--and she was right. Whether he laughed that beautiful garden of Eden. Now, though
fill it with flowers, and sit all day looking into or not, what was it to her? She would listen to nothing about his roguish, handsome look; and
we are in Bence, I really can almost believe there too she was right enough. If he happened myself in Paradise itself!" to be relating something--and he had always
Mariette called all her friends to look, and plenty to say, and every one else was paying the they called their friends ; so that, soon, half the most earnest attention-she joked and laughed village stood round admiring this beautiful pitcher. with her neighbour ; first pelted Pierre, then Truly, it was handsome, of transparent porcelain, Paul, with leaves, and took pains to show she beautifully painted, and with gilt handles. was not listening. This often provoked the
Doubtingly they asked its price. “One hunproud fellow so much that he went gloomily them all
, and they went away. When none of
dred livres," was the reply. Such a sum silenced away. Vengeance is sweet, and Mariette might the inhabitants of La Napoule was near, Colin have triumphed in her power, but her heart was too good. When he was silenced, she felt sorry.
came slyly, and throwing down a hundred livres If he was dull, she could not laugh; if he went
on the stall, bought the pitcher, put it carefully away, she did not stay long; and when at home, into a box stuffed with wool, and wended his she shed floods of tears !
What mischief he was now meditating, nobody knew.
When he got near the village, and it was quite
dusk, he met Jacques, the Justice's servant, reThe Rector of La Napoule, Father Jerome, a turning from work. “ I will give you something priest of seventy years of age, had all the virtues to drink, Jacques,” said Colin, “if you will of a saint; and his only failing was, that, from carry this box to Mother Manon's, and leave it his great age, he had nearly lost his hearing. there. If they inquire from whom it comes, say But this did not render his preaching less edify- a stranger gave it to you; but don't betray me, ing, and his parishioners always heard him with or I'll never forgive you." Jacques promised,