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The Crooked Footpath OLIVEII WENDELL HOLMES Ah, here.it is: the sliding rail, That marks the old remembered spot,— The gap that ctruck our schoolboy trail,— The croaked path across the lot. It left the road by school and church, A. Pencilled shadow, nothing MOM, That parted from the silver birch And ended at the farm-house doer. No line or compass traced its plan; With frequent bends to left or right, In aimless, wayward curve, it rat,, But always kept the door in sight, The gabled porch, with woodbine green,— The biolceis millstone at the sill,— Though many a rood might stretch between, The truast child could see them still. Pies rocks across the pathway he r — No falteu trunk is o'er it throwit,-- And yet it winds, we know wilt why, Anti taros as if fur tree or stone Perhaps some lover trod the way, With shaking knees and leaping heart,— And se it often runs astray With sinuous sweep or sudden start. Or one, perchance. with clouded brain From some unholy banquet reeled; And since, our devious steps maintain Ills truck across the trodden field. Nay, deem not thus,—no earth•born will Could ever trace a faultless line; Our truest steps are human still,— To walk unswerving were divine! Truants front love, we dream of wrath,— Oh, rather let us trust the more! Through all the wanderings of the path, We still can see our Father's door. (Atlantic lifenthly gltertigito. Fending Anna Hawke!' "Buzz —buzz—buzz—buzz!" "Indeed I cannot stand this. You'll .drive me quite crazy with your buzz, buzz, buzzing. I must and will have silence. I find that plain, pleasant persuasion will not do; I shall be forced to resort to a harsher metbod. Nuw listen, one and all, while I assure you that the 'first scholar, old or young, miss or master, young gentle man or lady, whom I shall see whispering without leave, I shall ferule." The Mr. Arthur Stone, closed his bearded lips firmly, and glanced about the old fashioned school room with a de termined expression, as lie ceased speaking. Ile evidently meant just what he had said— meant it in the face of the stalwart young gentlemen, and pretty, witching, bright eyed girls around him. For a moment, there was a dead silence among all, while .every eye was fixed upon the handsome, resolute face of the teacher. But in the ,little crowd of eager, upturned faces, there was but one on which his eyes sought in tuitively; drawn, as it were, by some strange mesmeric power. One face, and one at that moment which was a pretty picture of piquant beauty, with ito saucy, inquisitive blue eyes, which met his own fully and .daringly;—its strawberry red mouth, pursed by the most provoking and daring of smiles, that said it as plainly as words could have said it, "You won't ferule mc, Arthur .Stone, if I whisper ever so much." A sudden flash of anger reddened up into the cheeks of the young man, and shot from the depths of his fine grey eyes, AS he said determinedly, in answer to the smile of the red mouth and blue eyes, and the toss of the dainty head—"l repeat it; I will ferule the first scholar whom I see pvhitpering without leave!" 'lns time there was no mistaking it; Abaco was a perceptable motion of Anna alawkes' pretty head, an unmistakable light ;in her eyes, and a whole unbroken sentence ,wreathed about the curve of her lips, as ,she turned carelessly to her books—“ You .Can - ferule me, if yon choose," .sbe said ;stately, not believing that be would venture I to do it. "And I certainly will," was the silent reply of the young seam, -confident the while .that she mould not allow him an opportu nity of , putting his threat into execution. Put he was ill &Lease as he turned moodily to the strithtnetic.class, front which his at louden had been drawn -by the unusual ,confusion. Affairs had taken a disagreeable turn, an unexpected course, and whatever be might do, be could not better them. There was but one way for him. He must ,put a stern ,foce on the matter. He must maintain his dignity as a teacher, even if he was obliged to thrust aside his own -wishes and inclinations. Anna ilawkes, pleasant, witching, graceful Anna—the one bright star that threw so much light upon *tie fl.rdpous, tiresome duties; the warm hearted girl who had grown nearer and nearer to him as the dull, wintery days went by, till he had dared hope, silently and earnestly, that sometime he might be more to her than any one else in the world, even if she came between him and duties, must be sacrificed. It was a miserable thought, and he greeted it with a long, deep drawn sigh. Not once during that forenoon did he venture to look towards Anna's seat, or al low himself to pause anywere in her vicin ity, fur fear his ear might be greeted by a provoking odious whisper, Not once, I say, but I must except the long recess, during which he watched her eagerly, as she bent over her slate, Working out her algebraic problems, apparently lost to every thing about her. Two or three times he started up to go to her assistence, as she knit her white brows perplexedly, but a strange, new feeling like pride, kept him back. He thought he had never seen her look half so pretty or loveable as then, as she sat there bending thoughtfully over her book, with ono hand running rapidly and gracefully over her slate. Her dress of dark crimson cloth, with its full sleeves confined at the wrists by black velvet bands, fastened high in the neck, but in such a manner as to display her full, white ' throat, was strangely becoming to her. Ire had never thought of it before, but there was a certain refinement in her taste that was truly pleasing. It was visible in everthing, that she wore—the dainty cam bric collar confined at thd throat by a small cameo breast-pin; the knots of black velvet ribbon fastened around her luxuriant brown braids; the petite black silk apron, with its girdle of silk cord, and full large, drooped tassele, and the slender, shining little kid boots that peeped daringly out from the folds of her ample skirt. In all his life, Arthur Stone had never looked upon a face or figure so pleasant or captivating. But as he watched her, she raised her eyes to his face. In a. moment the pretty serious ness which had rested so becomingly on her features was gone. A provoking smile curled upon her rosy mouth and went with a sudden rush of triumph over her whole face. Dilating her finely curved nostrils, and sweeping like sunshine over the blue of her eyes, making such rare dimples about her chin, as one might have supposed to have been fitted by the cunning fore finger of Cupid himself. 81 50 $0 39 Arthur Stone was vexed, but was too much a man of the world to allow the young girl to know how much she was capable of annoying him, and so after the first flame of petty anger had died out from his cheeks and forehead, be said in a voice, the coolness of tvhich surprised even himself. "Can I be of any assistance to you, Miss Hawkes?" "None, sir, thank you. I . have quite conquered my exercises alone to-day." Foolish fellow! The very coolness of his manner betrayed the secret which he strove to hide. There was little need of covert if there was nothing to conceal. And so it was that the forenoon slipped unpleasantly away, and the afternoon came in its stead. The teacher's rule so far was a good one. If Anna Ilawkes had not been present, Mr. Stone would have counted it a success, but as it was, he was in a constant tremor of fear. A raised hand in the neighborhood of her seat and a timid application for assis tance was met with something like an un reasonable frown. In a hurried and ner vous way be proceeded to explain away the difficulty to the timid applicant, anxious to be free from such dangerous surroundings. Just ac ho congratulating himself upon his success, and was about turning away, a rapid whispered volley of words rattled past his ears. There was no avoiding it. He knew the source from whence they came as well as did every scholar that heard them. Ho could not pass thoughtlessly along. The dread alarm had coma with such a sudden distinctness as to surprise him into an involuntary start. Every pair of eyes was turned inquiringly and curiously to his face. He was forced into doing his duty. The heavy beard about his mouth was friendly to him then, for it covered a suspi cious pallor that settled there as be turned about and rested his eyes sternly upon the blushing, piquant face of Anna Hawkes. She was the picture of innocence just then, with her brown lashes dropped low upon her chocks, and the pearly white teeth crushed cruelly down upon the crimson of her lips. "Miss flawkes, can you tell me who whispered a moment' since?" "Yes, sir." The white lips were thrown wide open, and the ,dear eye fixed firmly upon his own. "Wile" "1, sir." "Will you oblige me .by stepping this way a moment?" He led the way out in the floor "Yee, sir, certainly:" She followed him promptly, : pausi . og be side the desk sad resting one hand prettily upon its top. "1.1 supposeyon listened to my ,role this morning?" "Yes, sir." "You understood it, too, doubtless?" "Yes, sir, perfectly." • "fluderstandiog it ;perfectly, then, you "NO EN.TTERTAINDTENT IS SO CHEAP AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING." COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING-, MARCH 26, 1859. have been pleased to break it. Can you name my duty?" "It does not admit of a question. Ferule me, sir." She commenced drawing slender gold ring-from her left hand. "This hand?" she asked suddenly, looking up in his face. "We have plenty of time, Miss Havvkes; do not hurry," he said, evading her ques- tion. "I have something to say to you." She leaned her elbow upon the desk, and her burning face upon her hand. "I shall be happy to listen to you," she said. "I will trouble you but a moment, only to say that I regret more than I am able to express, that a scholar whom I have en deavored to treat with uniform courtesy and respect, and in whose advancement I had felt a lively interest, should by so glaring a misdemeanor, such an utter contempt of my wishes, avow a disregard for me as a teacher and a friend. Such a display is unpleasant enough if a mere child willfully breaks the rule of a school, but when in stead, a young gentleman or lady so fur forgets him or herself, intensely painful. I assure you that I deeply regret this." Anna bowed gracefully as Mr. Stone ceased speaking. Again her white teeth were dented into her lip, while the brown lashes trembled close upon the deep burning red of her cheeks. "Your hand, .if you please." The little white hand was reached forth as if it were to receive a caress instead of a blow. As it lay so tenderly and trustingly upon the broad hand of the teacher; he inwardly cursed his stars. He called him self a brute, a tyrant, a monster. He had a mind to get down on his knees and pray for a big mouthed earthquake to come and swallow him; for a sudden flash of lightning (in th . c• winter time) to melt him into nonentity; for a whirlwind to sweep him with its rapid rushing winds from off the face of the'earth. Strike that little dimpled hand with a cruel two-inch rule? He had rather cover, aye, blister it with kisses, instead. It trembled within his grasp, and about the mouth of the owner a little white line was islanding the redness of her lips. For a moment ho thought he'd kneel before her, and ask her to give the pale prisoner entire ly to him. It would be his hand then, and no one could blame him for not wishing to injure his own property.' A thought struck him. He might strike his own hand instead of Anna's. Ile could shield her and take the blow himself. He was in a mood for cracking every knuckle that he owned. He raised his ruler. Anna raised her ayes to his face. His fixed determined expression startled her. She would bear the blow without starting, she thought, but 0, she would hate him, hate him, date dim, as long as she lived! As the thought passed through her mind, a gay, dashing looking sleigh drawn by a pair of fine horses came rapidly up to the school house door. Lucky, lucky Mr. Stone, the rule fell harmlessly on the fair rosy palm of Anna, and he turned his eyes toward the window, and exclaimed hurriedly: "The committee, Miss llawkes. You can take your seat now; but remain to-night after school. Even for this interruption I should not feel justified in letting the affair pass." "The last committee man upon earth that I would care to sec," exclaimed Mr. Stone to himself, as he bowed low before the poinpous young gentleman, known by the cognomen of Dr. Wesley Barker; who rapped with his whip upon the door—said young gentleman being one of wealth and education. But the teacher did not care a fig for his wealth—he did not envy him— or anything for his education--his own was quite equal to it. But what he did care for was, that Dr. Barker was a great ad mirer of Anna Ilawkes, and in the present state of affairs he did not care about having rivals around. Everything went along smoothly during school hours, as it always did during the visits of the several com mittees, but the moment school was dis missed, Dr. Barker stalkedacross the school room floor, and up to Anna Hawke? seat Mr. Stone bit his lips with vexation. His rival made his appearance quite in the nick of time. He despised meanness heartily, denounced it, but now in spite of himself, ho stood and listened eagerly to catch the few words that dropped from Dr. Barker's and Anna's lips. "I'll ask Mr. Stone to excuse me," he heard Anna say. "Which of course he will do." replied Dr. Barker. "I am not so certain," was the smiling reply, as she started towards his desk. "I hope you will pardon me for daring to ask such a thing, but Dr. Barker wishes me to drive with him in his new sleigh, which I'm very anxious to do, and so I'd like to be excused from remaining to-night to take my feruling, promising to come early to-morrow morning." Mr. Stone bowed and said, "Very well," though the words almost choked him. He secretly wished Dr. Barker and his new sleiglrin China, and himself free from the vocation of school teaching. He thought, as ho stood moodily by his desk watching Anna Hawkes pin her plaid shawl closely about her throat, -and tie under her chin the blue ribbons of her quilted hood, .prepara tory to her drive with Dr. Barker, that he was the most miserable man in existence, and that he would purchase a farm, work at shoveling on the railroad, would do any thing, rather than teach another school. Ire had engaged already to take charge of the village academy the following spring, but now he resolved that he would not deit—he would throw up the engagement at once. "No doubt she thinks me a very brute," he said to himself, as the gay eqfkage went dashing down the street. Perhaps, after all, she bad not meditated that ruthless attack upon his dignity and patience. In deed now he thought of it again, the whis per was more like an exclamation than any thing else. Yet he had not given her the slightest chance for an explanation, but like the executioner who loved his occupa tion, hurried her forward to the punishment —the dolt that he called himself. lie had a very poor opinion of Arthur Stone just at that moment. Ile was sure that he would like to horsewhip him. A fair counterpart of the pupil's thoughts were those of the teacher. It was a dull, dreary drive that Anna Hawkes took with Dr. Barker. She hadn't a heart to enjoy it after the folly of the afternoon. "He thinks that I do not care fur nor re spect him," was the thought uppermost in her mind, whichever way she turned. "And this is the return I am making him for his kindness to me—all the interest he has ta ken in my studies, both in and out of school. 0, if he could but know tho truth!" "The truth!" The young girl startled herself by these words. And what was the truth? She buried her burning face in her hands as she asked herself the question.— It was this. She loved Arthur Stone! loved him better than life itself! A cry of pain went from her lips, as the knowledge settled down upon her heart. But what proof had she given of this? What proof that slie was any other than a vain, selfish, thing!— None, alas, none! Like any woman who is conscious of her power, she gloried in hers over Arthur Stone. But how was he to know that it was any but the glory of a fickle, hearties coquette, rather than that of a strong, loving, true-hearted woman, who makes her power a golden chain about the heart of the min she loves, by which she draws him tenderly towards her? How, 0, how was hs to know this? The thought was agonizing to her. She resolved at last to go to him in the morning and confess her fault, humbling as it was. He should know, at least, that she held his feelings too sacred to wound them wantonly. But in the morning she was sick and feverish, scarcely able to lift her head from the pillow. She could not see Arthur that day, and so she must content edly wait for the next. Against her wishes, Dr. Barker was summoned, who croaked dubiously of a fever that was hanging about her. She must be careful, be very quiet, and follow his directions, ho said, and be would come again in tho afternoon to learn how she was getting along. lie came in the afternoon, but at an unlucky hour.— Anna sat back in the rocking chair, by the window, looking eagerly up the street. But while .he prated learnedly by her side, he saw a rapid red stain through the whiteness on her.cheek, and an eager light break out from the clear blue of her eyes. Arthur Stone was passing by the house, and viewing with a scornful curl of the lip the handsome equipage of Dr. Barker. He did not look beyond it to the pale face bent so eagerly towards him, but turned his eyes coldly away and walked haughtily down street, while Anna sank back with a sigh into the softly cushioned chair. Next morning she refused to remain away from school another day. Arthur Stone would say shewas cowardly, that she feared the fending, that she absented herself pur posely, because of the misunderstanding on Tuesday afternoon, which she was too guilty to face again. She would go to the school though she dropped fainting on the way.— She could not rest until her mind was un burdened of this heavy load. So she went, pale and trembling itt an early hour to the school. "How be scorns me—how he hates me!" she thought, as Mr. Stone quietly raised his eyes to her face, and bowed a silent good morning as she entered the room. How could she • ever face that stern cold gaze, and make excuses for not keeping her ap pointment of the previous mornings! • "I was too ill to come yesterday morn ing," she said, in a trembling voice, "or I should not have broken my promise. Will this morning do as well?" Mr Stone glanced keenly into her face.— The blanched cheeks and white quivering lips testified to the truth of what she said. "Are you able to be here now?" he asked in a tone of voice that had more of tender ness than aught else running throcatit." "Hardly. You can fer—ferule me, and I will go home," she said, while her cheeks crimsoned with shame. Mr. Stone bit his lips to keep back a re ply which rose involuntary to them. Again was that tender, white hand before him waiting meekly for its punishment, now weak and trembling from illness. Did she think him a brute? Quito evidently from her action. "I—l regret that I wounded your feel ings on Tuesday," sho sold, raising her eyes to his face. "I am thoughtless, I hope not heartless. Will you par don me?"— The question was asked in a low, quivering voice, half choked with tears. ';Pardon youl" Bin Stone repeated the words slowly in a clear, emphatic tone. "Is it too muck to ask? You will not re fuse me—you could not Wine me if you knew—" "What?" "How utterly miserable I am. I cannot stay here—here's my Land—be quick—let me go home!" With a quick, rapid movement, the teach er grasped the little feverish hand that was outstretched to him, covered it over and over with fervent and passionate kisses. "Forgive you," he said, while his fine oyes grew deep and tender in their expres sion, "forgive you, yes, a thousand times, and then not to be able - to show you a mil lionth part of the love which I hear for you. Forgive you—but I'll dare ask more than you dare hope, perhaps more than you' care to hope—that you will love me, that you will place yourself and this sinned against, abused little hand in my keeping— tell me, Anna, have I asked toe much?" The answer was faint and low that came from Anna liawkes' lips, but nevertheless it was a satisfactory one; for the sweet lit tle mouth from whence it came took imme diate reward in kisses. So it all ended. And in a few weeks af ter Anna Hawkes became Mrs. Arthur Stone, much to the satisfaction of the wondering school at Elton. "Will He Be Married." Last year, toward the end of winter, a young man of fashion, named Frederick Dervieux, terminated one of those insipid walks on the Boulevards, of which you tire so soon. A lorgnette in his eye, and a cigar between his teeth, he had been strolling about for hours. When ho returned home, he let his head fall on his open palm, and in a deep fit of musing, scorned to be seeking the solution of some grave problem. - "Let us see—let us reflect a little,". he said to himself; "running about with no ob i ject in view, flinging a bouquet to a danseusc, whom I scarcely know by sight, smoking, wearing the sole of one's boots on the as phalte, saying the same words every day to the same persons, is not decidedly living, it is a mere state of existence, and at the bot tom of all I find but ono thing—weariness, that is to say, the bitterest of all social mis eries. But how banish it?" And the young man walked moodily up and down his room. "Some ono said to me one day," he con tinued, "If you wish to enjoy life, become active, work, do something?" So I• took to fencing and the sword exercise. After ten years' hard work at it I found myself eclipsed by a simple shop-keeper, who had practiced in his leisure moments. .Discour. aged, I again sought counsel. "Travel," said my adviser. "I have visited the three continents— Europe, America, and Africa, and seen them, as one sees them to-day, with the help of railroads, steamers. passports, telegraphs —that is to say, by every means science can employ to hasten your journey and destroy the scenery. When I returned, I received fresh advice. Since you are still dull and weary, they said, it arises from a chasm in your breast, which requires filling up: you must seriously set about conjugating the verb 'to love,' for the long and short of it is, that true happiness is only found thus— " Marry !" Here a bitter smile crossed his lip.— "Marry!" be again soliloquized; "it is easily said, easily done, by any one else but me. A young fellow gets presented to a girl's family; they approve of him, the conditions suit all parties, the day is fined—a solicitor, a priests and the business is settled. But with me it is another history. I was born under the most capricious star in the world; it is evident that I am bewitched. I am young, s nut bad looking, rich enough, and yet with all these, I have found it impossible to marry!" And as if to convince himself more posi tively of the strange fact, the young man opened a desk and took out a packet of letters. "The histories," he said, "of my twenty projected marriages, which have all failed. Strange fatality! of those twenty marriages, and all of which were eligible, ten were broken off for some ridiculous reason or another, and the other ten because the pre vious ones had failed; so, in despair, I re solved to die a bachelor." But Frederick had not dived into his trou bles without feeling a desire to overcome his pernicious fate. "I must try another chance," he said, "that will make one and twenty. If this one does not succeed, 'tis that I am destined not to marry." Thus saying, he took a coin off the chim- "Head or tail shall decide my rule of con duct," he said. "If 'tis bead, I'll try my fate once more—if tail, I'll reniain as I ani." And up to the ceiling spun the piece of gold. "Head!" he cried. "Then destiny speaks to me in no equivocal terms—l'll marry." . It was one thing to decide upon a matter and another to accomplish it. "On reflection," he cogitated, "it shall not be in Paris that I'll try. I should only meet with annoyances—the history of my twenty marriages is still modern. No young girl would consent to marry a man who has bad twenty marriage settlements drawn up, and then torn asunder." In his room hung a charming picture, by an English artist— "My lord and my lady of twenty." This gave hiss the idea of trying England. "As 11m resolved to unite my existence to one of Eve's daughters." he said, "I lee 81,50 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE; 82,00 IF NOT IN ADVANCE ought to seek fur her on the other side of the Channel, on the classical ground of do 'nestle felicity." Much applauding his own resolution, Frederick sacrificed three days in preparing! all the preliminaries for his journey: he wanted letters of introduction, and, as a fashionable man, he had to renew his ward robe. In a week he was in London. A month had scarcely passed when this second Jason, who had started to win the golden fleece, found two Medeas instead of only one. But neither of them quite realized the programme which our hero had traced beforehand in his own mind. The first was a little Scotch girl, fair and as brilliantly lovely as one of Ossian's moonlights. Our Parisian wanted something more human. In the second meeting he met with another hidden rock, not less formidable—an Anglo-Indian girl, driven to Europo by the mutiny of the Se poys—a real Byronic heroine darting flashes of fire from her dark eyes. Frederick Der vieux, however, reserved all his preference for the daughter of a rich London merchant, recently retired front commerce. Sho was more beautiful than any of Lawrence's cel ebrated portraits; a sweet face, full of intel ligence, magnificent golden hair and eyes, blue as the sea; added to which she pos sessed a crowd of domestic virtues. 'This is the one I have so long sought in vain," said our hero to himself. After the chapter of mutual research into character and position had been turned over leaf by leaf satisfactorily, the wedding-day was fixed. "At last," exclaimed the delighted Fred erck, "I am disenchanted." The wedding was to take place in the month of April. One fine day Margaret longed for a row on the Thames, a young girl's fancy, and as she was a pet daughter no one contradicted her. Frederick and her brother accompa nied her. Every ono knows the crowd of boats, steamers, etc., on the river, between the city and Battersea, where her father re sided. Margaret's idea was to go by water to see some old friends in the former place. She went, but never returned. The paddles of a steamer upset their boat; all were saved but Margaret, she was drowned. We may imagine the despriir.of poor Frederick when he came to his senses in a warm bath, wherein they placed his almost lifeless form. "Who will now say that I am not be witched?" he cried, as the tears stole down his cheeks. He gave up ten whole days to the most intense grief. "What avails tears?" ho poetically cried: and eight days alter Margaret had been buried beneath a marble tombstone, Fred erick Dervieux, alone with his sad race reflections, turned his eyes toward the hdri zon and said— "I must quit Great Britain. My evil genius has pursued me hither. I should suffocate in London fur want of air, and be sides, 1 live in the constant dread every turn of meeting lllargaeet's ghost. I'll be off." That day he packed up and started for Ostend. It was at the period of the year when the bathing season summons together in Bel gium and Germany that modern aristocracy principally composed of idle persons, who make themselves ridiculous ot: sick, adven turers. male and female. There was then at Ostend a pattern of every sort of society in Europe. The day after his arrival, as he walked lone and sad on the bench, thinking of the treacherous waters of Father Thames, be said to himself— "Why should I not run the risk of loving a Russian? Thirty years ago they were all barbarians, they say. To-day, why the men are the most polished in Europe, true disciples of Voltaire; and the women, those who best carry you back by their manners to the polished gallantry and refinement of t old I French society. Besides, they aro kneaded with gold, and that is never a dis advantage. I must see about it. Frederick Dervieux directed his steps to ward the public rooms. A poet would have compared them to a! flower-bed, composed of lilies, roses, and every sweet bud. The truth is, there wore fifty pretty women, and out of the fifty some twenty of rare beauty. Just as our traveler entered, a lady had seated herself at the piano, and played and sang with infinite grace Felicien David's melody of "Fly, Swallow." 'May .I take the liberty of asking who is that charming person?" asked Frederick of a sort of master of tLe ceremonies, who passed close to him. " 'Tis the Princess ltranne Vemenoff, sir," answered the man, wending on his way with refreshments. . Although this information was very mea gre for a man wanting a wife, the Parisian was satisfied, and amused himself by con templating the fair stranger,4rying to sup ply from his imagination all that was in complete in the information be had received. At the same time his eyes told him that nothing, could be more beautiful than the daughter of the ex•barbarians. Icanne was twenty years of age, but only looked seventeen; she was tall, slender, fair, white as a lily, with eyes the color of a sap phire. The diamonds which xparkled in her ears, around her beautifully rounded throat, and in her hair, gave her something of a fairy look, which completely seduced the imagination of our luckless hero. [WHOLE NUMBER. 1.494 "If I may judge from appearances," be said, mentally, "that is exactly the woman want; but this Ivanne is a princess; and though I am rich, I can be nothing com pared with her." But reason whispered in his ear that be should not always judge by appearances, and that in Russia princesses aro as plenti ful as hidalgoos in Spain, counts in France, and barons in Germany. And what has so cial position to do with sentiment? Twenty examples might be quoted wherein Russian princesses had married artists, or men of middle rank. The thing was to please. Thus arguing. Frederick incited himself to be audacious. Yon know, reader, it is the best tactic both in love and war. Dancing commenced "Ivanne waltzes as well as she sings," sighed Frederick. Before the evening was over, of course, he persuaded himself that the little princess was the beau-ideal of hu man perfection, but 'how was he to make hor acquainted with his good opinion? Ilow approach her? Frederick Dervieux ialled his good genius to his Sid. This imaginary creation took a bodily form in the shape of the master of the ceremonies. In these sort of watering places, etiquette is less rigorously obFeryed than it is elsewhere; it willingly casts somo of its heavy drapery aside to become sylph like and airy. "There will be another ball the day after tomorrow, sir," said the master of the white wand, approaching Frederick, "I can then present you to a friend of the Prince Yemenoff, who always accompanies his daughter. The friend will introduce you to the prince, and the prince to the princess. You see it is all ns clear as noonday."— Nothing opposed this charming arrange ment. A young, good•looking, rich French- man is certain of meeting with a eardial•ro ception anywhere, especially from the wo men folks. Ivanne was already surrounded by a cir cle of foreigners, from every corner of Eu rope. There were Germans, English, Ital ians, &o. Frederick Dervieux came to swell the number and complete tho list, as a rep resentative of France. Ile learnt, however, that fur a person of so much distinction, Ivonne was not de scended from a very ancient aristocratic family. Ifer father had been in the com missariat, and had been ennobled by Ales.- ander fur the invention of a now species of hunting whip, more convenient than the one he had been in the habit of using.-- Their fortune was somewhat reduced by the father's love of gambling, and this same for tune had been made by a lucky speculation on the riso in corn. All those episodes seemed likely to diminish the distance be tween the lovely Muscovite and our hero. At the end of ten days' conversations, parties of pleasure, meetings tthexpectedly brought about the conjugal question had been copped and replied to. It was arranged that the young folks should be married in Paris, the beginning of winter. The Prince an insatiable gambler, would not conset to leave Germany till the season was over. "Four months •to wait," said Frederick to himself; "four months! more than is neces sary to make the frail edifice of my happi ness crumble to earth!" One morning when he was completing his toilet a footman brought him the following letter, written on black-edged paper: "A dreadful misfortune overtakes ns all. My father, carried away with his invincible love of gambling; went to Wiesbaden yes terday, he there stalled all our fortune and lost it! Not able M survive so great a dis aster, he shot himself through the head.-- You can well understand, I feel sure, that after such an event, our projects for the fu ture must be annulled. Adieu, sir, we must meet no more. "Ives:Ns." "Did I not truly say that my god-mother must have been some spiteful fairy?" ex claimed poor Frederick Dervieux, in despair. To give more zest to his misfortune, he learnt, by accident, in the course of tho evening, that his lovely Russian, his be trothed, had left fur Pestli, with a llunga rian. "I should like to know," he said, "if Doctor Pangloss himself would not admit me to be the most bewitched of men:" Next day, with downcast brow, he turned his steps once more toward France. "To Paris," he said mentally, "and there I'll resume my habits of bachelorhood and cigars." Scarcely bad he resumed his old way of' existence•two days, when, after dinner one evening, an intimate friend of his, one Fel icien Doves, came to seibim. "'Pon my life, my dear Frederick," he said, "you arrive apropos. I hive some thing to say to you." - "About what?" "A very serious thing—marriage:" "Thanks, my friend, but I have given up all idea of it now." "Frederick you say that in a tone which convinces me, on the contrary, that you are thinking more than over of it. I have dis covered the exact woman to suit you:" No man could resist a proposal couched in the like terms. Frederick permitted his friend to inform him that in the neighbor hood of Vertsdiles there lived a young girl. named Celina, with a sort of Lady Bounti ful, in an old chateau. "I hafe already spoken of yea," maids kind friend, "and you have but to'priiitut yourself, to be warmly welcomed-..-tistwitole affair will go by steam." Last September the young mart wansia-
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