VOLIJAIE 19, tielect Poetry, anb Miscellany. nxer. ,I DI "r, uecuANAN BEAD NV ho are ye who Nit and murmur O'er your grievance fiord and long! Who are ye u hose necks are trodden By the iron foot of wrong? Wear yo not God's mighty image? Rise! assert it, mid he strong! - Can ye see your wives and children Under old oppressions cower, And not feel yolir right arms aching With thefullness of their power? Rise! a life of idle groaning Is not worth'one well-n rought hour! Able-bodied, idle-minded? DO you weep beneath your pain? Or, with empty ettut of ,Freedom„ > Do ye stagger with your ehai ilear'ye not Your weaker brother? Riot or Wt•P r- the ettrat of.Caitt! Will ye it in dust and ashes, Gazing. on the proud and great? Kuaw :sou not that soul and sinew ,!11 achieve their own estate? Rise! to action—or in garret. Dre•aut, and o ti. rve your fate! Are ye FR men—ncemen r d) I 110 Ne act n froomea do? An , dour reel r,. not t oter Ivader.,7 Arc many, ate on few! Itn.e! a ith iturpo:o: flint, and n.ach tloqn They 'most finq by ruled by Into you belong , the V("( Ana Ow freedom of the ~a ; Will 3on hear your rvapu, dictate NV hut hor fry ight or la n o :1)011 he! lii-e! anil hurl tl u err over, the he-t of tva! NOI3ILIT Orlljc I= i- 4111' 1.711:1,1 4111'1/Wll lan that r'••r 1:,111 Well, %%ell, own anti,-Lxvlll not argue the with you; as an Auivr.eau you are right in It such a belief; int you ritti , t we to tkat there is something not to be dispised in a and honorable de-cent. I cannot but belie the descendants of tho.e who for generation beck! ennobled by lofty deeds of high enterpri be more likely to perform tnagmanimoui actio the son of a !mumble ptebian:' "You agree with rid, llenri; differ in tering. I assert that the childredolla fam ily which can look back' with homiest pride to deeds of integrity' and uprightness, of virtue and'h arc. the true scions of nobility: lei-their paten the signet of an Altnip_ny hand." :"Then the Fntt of an honest blacksmith of l he as proud of his birth as the heir of a rend or a rOtle; is that votir opinion?" ~o tilething very like it, I confess, nenr % as the origin_of the nobles of the old .cot It pine and violchee'gave them their heritage lans, \ nduleseivilesuLoni4sion to a monarch, or per baps treachery to his enemy was, often the price paid fur their sounding llad _they ben en- nobled for tbeir- virtue, Henri, rind had the3 l trans mitted these; together ‘vith their proud names, !Jiro' succeeding generations, then well might. their; de- . EC ellaillitB have glo?ied in their birth; but strely you need not be reminded of the black, catalogue of crime which cuhfrit be appended to every gerralogi cal chart in 'merrie England,' no less than in your 4 .Trande 1131,i )II?' "I won't quarrel wltlCyou about it, Fran but I ELall never become a Convert to your doctribe; per haps I am too, deeply infected with such prejudices, but they were a part of ray lawful heritage." know . it, llenri, the blood of one of the noblest families of France rulis in your veins,' and the only wonder is, that under such circumstances you should possess such tree nobility." I °What do you mean?" "I am surprised that you did not follow :tile ex ample'of most Branches of a noble stock: and make the fame of your ancestors a licensOor your own wort hlessness "Frank, you are incorrigible," said Henri, laugh ing; "according to your creed I ought to rank you, mho possess so many estimable qualities, among the lowest of the low:" "Place me in what station you choose, Henri, so long as you find no cause for despising me. But you rui,take ino: I do not think nobility olsOul in coMpatilde with nobility of birth: I only :tiettn to as-sert that heroic deedsare more frequently ;.erforin cl by men in a lowly than in an exalted station, for the latter have an inheritance of fcitne, anil are, too often content to use it to its last grain, wi l j thout add ing aqthing to it for the next generation ." "I should like to see your father, Prank." "You shall be gratified if you choose to :accom pany me home in the spring; but, in what station do you expect to find him!" "If i must judge by jour theory, I should say he is some bumble artisan, but I know better Unlit to believe such a thing; I suppose be is one of the aris- tocracy of your republican country living in the most independent of all modes, as a gentleman farmer, and I should not be surprised if he had carefully preserved ti box of old papers, which enabled him to trace his descent from some English yeoman of the time of tine eighth Harry." "You never were more mistaken in your life." don't tell MC anything about 'IMO mean to go and see for myserf, but no one shall persuade me that you could derive from lany mean parentage the chivalrous sentiments which led you to save my life at the risk of your own." "Pshaw, i with you would not think so much of a trifling service." 'You may untlerrae your disinterestedness as much as you please, but if any onelAise were to tell tyre that the man who bound his own life preserver on a sick stranger, when the black waters were yawning to devour him, had performed only a tri lling service, I think he would find a little of the pirit of my ancestors in my reply." The speakers who thus discussed points of honor while they - 1 ulTed the fragrant smoke from 'their `ilsbanar," were Henri de Valence, a young We.t." , , -,• Y, 7 - t l i - : - F.::: i. 7- 7, -- : , ,,T. r, , , -,,, , si -,. `7, . _ . - . • . .._ - :t ...... ' it.'; ‘.(:,..`. L • ... '2I - - I.! •.',,..?..., .T..., ./. ' it!:. . . .i..:,7 , _ - - _..... . . tie: ..,7. • • - 1..0r - ... 4'( ''..''. ' C Z 17-4 ..,... I i' t.ts. ' :‘:. -;ri • `,( .1 i ,:-;,,: .4t i • ...N., 'Si .- , :,-f''' !,t, . • . 1.,"; •- , (.., .•• - ",,i Ti' S:-. , . Ik., '. 6 ',',J ..'..." '....i. 1 .,: . '': S ' :11. .'". . ,•-•• . . i. _ . '. l . , r i . , V . • 4. ,,• - . 17. • . 7 '?.. - :, . .7. tv .‘,..1 . .i. ! , . • .. . , ~-... ...... :.2 . :fs : -....-; I ::.'• ' .t - . . . . 4 i , , i.... 4 .14i . . -,' ' ..ts . . •••''' :, • ~ e . ..: -i: ;, I 4.32 ....,:. '.l:- . • . . , 71" •!.:1 , . • 1 % , '..:::. 1 , • . - - . ~ -, • • . . „._..........._,_ _ . , . . ..... . . _____ pint Ming MB neient r. tly. lin4e MEM ME MEM t bea rs =I ontme- ; what Ra i broad Indian of large fortune, and his friend Frank Wes ton, who had left his native village to seek wealth in New Orleans, that Eldorado of all who can resist musrmetoes and yellow fever. They had mq, as strangers on board a Mississippi steamer, !where Henri was suffering from the feebleness -attendant .upon a long illness, Before they reached their port of destination, the boat was snagged, and the pas sengers were in the most imminent danger, when Frank, seeing theptillul stranger at his side,,quiet ly took offs his life-preserver, saying, "I am strong and can swim, but you are utterly helpless, take this and save yourself." The opportune' arrival of a steamer rescued them, after an exposure_of some hours to the most imminent danger, but llenri never forgot the heroic act of hisinew friend. With the warm-heartedness of his age and clime, he attach ed himself•closely to Frank, and even resolved to accompany him to his native home, rather than part • with him fur a whole season. • The first spring buds Were unfolding their .soft green to the warm gales, when the filiends set out ow their northern journey. Henri was charmed With everything he saw in nature, though strongly dispos ed to find amusement in some very Wailral trails of individual .character. The bold and magnificent scenery of our .beitet iful land excited his-enilinsias tic -admiration, while his prejudices were sadly shocked_ at_ t iome occasional glimpses of American life. By the. time he afrivud ai New York, he was more deeply confirmed in his idetts of the advantage of high birth, and as he contrasted the quiet gen tlemanly deportment of Frank. with the coarse tiers of sonic of their travelling cOinpanions, be could not help congratulating himself on having found a ft iend among the better class of our plebian It. was /ate in the afternoon ()bone of those balmy days which make .lane delightful a mouth in Atnerica,"when the tra',ellers approached the spot where Frank _Weston was born and bred. -As the • proceedeit slou, ly along a road cut in a side of a mountai u, - ticey looked down.upon the village, lying at the foot of a decli% ity, and nothing could be more beautiful than the view. The neat. snc w -white cottages were clustered together in a beautiful val ley, through which ran a clear and - rapid stream, spanned by a rustic bridge. Large clots, those most beautiful of all forest trees, were seen, Fuld (hug the inequalities of the ground in positi ons th at ,:eetned chosen for their picturesque beanie; and, as the heauts of the setting-sun shone asiant between their broad stems, gilding the surface of the little river, and reflecting in gorgeous hues from the case merits of the pretty cottap , „es,`llenri. thought he had never seen so loved' a spot. i "you l%ill,liiid my native home rather a humble hbode, Henri," said Frank, as he aPproached it.— ' Henri did certainly look a little surprised when he found Frank's father occupying a house not h white superior to his neighbors, a low-browed cottage, with plenty of room on the ground floor, but posses sing no•claim either to stateliness or gentility. To be sure it wt§ neat as woman's skill could make it. Carpets of home manufacture covered the llourtables of cherry wood, polished so as to rivhl mahogany, supplied the place of more costly furniture; chairs ev ident the handicraft or;:otne vii lege mechanic, ollbred no promise of luxurious ease; and the row of shining brass eandlestick4 which decorated the rude chim ney-piece, were certainly .better calculated to excite ideas of utility than of beauty. But Henri sor n for got these things -in the pleasure which he de rived from the warm and hearty welcome with which - he was greeted. The family consisted only of Mr. Weston and his daughter. And the young stranger knew not whether to be most charmed with the frank and courteous manners of the old man, or. the fresh and - glowing beauty of his friend's sister. Lucy Weston was• a true,Amercian beauty; not one of those fragile delicate creatures to be seen. in gossamer robes and -silken slippers, treading the muddy streets of our great cities,-and awakening by Ithe very_character of their loveliness, the painful remembranctof decay. She had a clear complexion, a deep yet cool color upon her cheek, a mouth, per- I haps rather too large fur regular beauty, but full of bxpr'ession, eyes blue as the sky in spring, and arch ed by brows iif the darket Chestnti l t, hair of that rich golden brown which is rarely seen in perfection among the unmixed Saxon race', a form slender and graceful, yet- developed into perfect symmetry by healthful exercise, and all these' characteristic to - American loveliness. Remember,. gentle reader, I am desdribing the native charms of a village beau ty. Lucy Weston had not been immured in the impure atmosphere of a heated nursery during her infancy; ,shebad not spent the ten best years of her life amid ., the restraints of a boarding • school,—she had not been taught that a game of romps was a very "ungenteci thing," and that "little Indies should never move faster' than a walk." She had sported and played, and enjoyed a thorough drilling in that physical education which is now neglected. The merry little hoyden had acquired the rich treasure of health, while she was only pursueing the bent of j her, childish nature, and when she did apply herself jto mental labor, she brought to her duties a robust 1 fraMe and perceptions quickened by - daily use.— S'oadH L , to say, Lucy would pot lihve figured to much advantage,at a soiree, or even at a ball. She was 1 indebted to the village singing master for her little knowled t fe of music, and though she occupied a distinguisOd place in the church choir, she would scarcely hale been able to join us in an Italian duct: And-as to tier dancing—it was lady-like, for he could do nothing that was not so,, but certainly her teacher had added few "foreign airs" to her "native graces." She wati very deficient in the requisites for obtaining.distinction in fashionable life; but then she possessed no small share of useful accomplish-, mc nts . She made the whiteskbread and the sweet est butter that ever graced a ,breakfast table—her puddings and pies were delichine—her skill in darn ing and mending, that mots necessary talent of ' "making auld clothes tuik 'moist as well as new," ' was unrivalled=she was the neatest - and quickest of sempstresses,(no small accomplishment, let me tell you, my fair reader)—and to crown all, Lucy was one of the Most systematic of housekeepers.— There was no noise, , no bustle in the liouse; every ' thing_ seemed to be done as if by - tuagic. Rooms ' were "put to rights,"—the semi-weekly baking was ' accomplished—daily churning was done, even the weekly washing, that most dreaded of all days to ' slovenly housewive, wits quietly finished, without any One being made acquainted with thd precise time %%lien ail these tasks were in proon,..§;_und LVI) NV7 AR D.,, , E3 r r..\• ; SATURDAY MORNING,MAY 20, IMB. when Lucy took her seat at the mid-day dinner, at tired in a - neatly fitting dress, with her beautiful hair smoothly folded over her placid brow, no one would have dreamed that she had been the principal ,actor in the busy scenes of their - rustic life, and that the profusion of healthful viands which loaded the well arranged table, owed their rich gusto to hel culinary skill. Are you shocked, friend reader, that a heroine should know how to cook a dinner? I ,know it Lis contrary to all established rules, for — the suffering damsels of the Minerva press never even condescend to eat or drink, through three thick volumes of dis'- iressful adventure. They May sometimes "snatch a morsel of refreshment," or "sip sortie wine from a richly_chased antique goblet," but to eat a vulgar dinner, would be destrdctive of all heroic and senti mental ideas. The heroines of those times were superior to the common wants of humanity; their immaculate white dresses neve r became soiled, - even if they were plunged in the most. loathsome of dun geons, their tresses never hung in other than -rich ringlets, even if they were iist snatched from a watery grave, and their appetites never led them to commit such an outrage upon delicatAensibility as to eat a really good dinner. To those who are dis posed to be * pained by, the unrefined habits of my friend Lucy, I can only say in the words of Boccac cio, "ii you do n'ot like my story, turn to another page." lam painting life as it is, and, believe me, actual life with all its chances . and changes, ore ! -sents many a picture more deserving of the artist's pencil than any thing which exists only in the dreams of the fancy. I I:lenri de Valence was eli . armed with both fattier and daughter. Mr. Weston was a man of remark ably prepossessing appearance. Upwards of six feet high, finely proportionk and of almost Her culean strengtlyhe preSe T oted a fine study for a painter as he sat, in the pOrch at eventide, his vest open to the ,breeze, and' his long grey locks floating upou'his shoulders.. his broad, full brow, his deep blue eyes, his eMbrowned but ruddy com plexidn, seemed to form;] the very perfection of healthful and vigorous and happy age. Mr. West on had rarely quitted his native village, but he was a diligent reader o . jg,ood books, a close observer of manners and above till, a profound and accurate thinker. Ilis,emarks were - distinguished for their originality and acuteness, and one could not help believing, while listening to Iris simple but ener,get ic language, that the fate which had destined' him to a peaceful obscurity, had deprived philosophy of a noble votary. Ilenri's excitable and enthusiastic temper, all'orded a striking contrast to the calm and grace tune of the old man's Mind, and as'it frequent ly happens in such cases, they were mutudly pleased with each ther. Mr. Weston liked Henri's frank de- I rma kich ness and worm-Iseartednesq, while Henri was lighted with the-cordial killidness,the strung sense, and the deep insight ipto huinan nature wb he found in the father of his friend. In the meantime Frank Weston seemed to el everything. He was glad to• be once more home,' he was pleaseq with the respect with W 144 1 / 4 fat her had inspird Henri, because he had ranged a little plot n jaint,t his friend's prejud when he hoped to bring, to tx aucco<<ful issue, he liked the respectful cmurtesy, which char m ized Henri's manners to his sweet sister Lue, But Frank was not as clear•sighted us he hadl agined. He did not read all the feelings W were concealed beneath t4e polite demeanor of friend. Henri was fat Neu - lilting a captive, ‘'bow and spear," but of rustic beauty and ge l itess. He had mingled much in gay' society,l he had seen much of - its hollowneSs; he had been courted by manmuvering mammas, and flattered 153,H mercenary daughters, but he distrusted them, and shrunk from all their advances. It was not until he saw Lucy and understood her truthful character, that he felt himself enthralled by Oudot.° of woman. Yet there were some points, on which he was not yet satisfied. He had not yet discovered Mr. Weston's occopation, for he went out daily before Henri had finished his morning slumbers and only returned nt evening, while it happened, somehow or other, that 'Henri never met him in his village walks, nor even heard him aillude to . his business.— It was not until more than a mond; had elapsed, that Frank thought proper to enlighten.him. am going to take you by a new rent() ip-day, Henrii" said Fritok, as they proCeeded to walk, one morning. "Have you any I new beauty to show me?" asked • Henri. o, but I have an old prejudice, to batter down, and I am seeking the Proper field for its destruc tion. Tell me, Ilenriz—what do -you think of my -father?" "In truth, Frank, you have just reasons \ to be proud of •Ititn; he is worthy to have been a Rolaan,,, in the palmy days of the republic, when the name was a prouder title than that of a king." "And you would be proud of such a father, even it he i.verF of ignoble birth, Illenrir asked Frank with a smile. -- Henri laughed as he replied, "I think I may ven ture to say yes; but why do you always argue from itnpossibilitiesr , "Will you forgive me the harmless plot by which I have contrived to show you the fallacy of your opinions?" said Frank. "Look there," he contin ued, as a suddenLturn-in the lane. brollght them in full view of the biasing tires of a blacksmith's • • forge. As Henri turned his eyes hi the.direction to Which his friend pointed, he was thunderstruck. • 'l'owcr ing a full head above his swart workmen, and wielding an immense piece of iron which would have foiled a man of ordinaly wend', stood; Mr. Weston. His face was blackened by smoke, his muscular arms bared to the shoulder, were grimtned with the dust of his forge, and his leathern apron shrivelled and scorched by use, left no doubt, as to the nature of his daily employment. “You look surprised, Henri," said Prank; e‘ouilit to be leas proud of that parent, becabse he occu pies no higher station than that of a village black smith?" • ii:Ard, no, Frank, you are right—the man would enoble any station," exelaimEtd Henri, as he ran for ward to grasp the hand of Mr. Weston. "Softly, softly my boy," said Mr. Weston, _as lienry•sprang to'hisiside, "or you may chance to burn yaur broad-cloth;" and the old man, who hod early become a participator in Frank's sche'me. made the welkin rinrr with his merry laugh. • Henri returned home a little disappointed, and not very Well pleased at this attack upon his strong est Predjudi9s. lie could, not but acknowledge to himself that had he known Frank's - perentage lie would never have become his guest, and yet he felt no disposition to depart from the hospitable roof.— As lie tot#:his seat at the evening _ meal, and con tempiatealhe sweet face of Lucy Weston' he could not help regretting that she should be .so Misplaced in life. "I' have seen many a lady of fortune and fashion, who would give all her wealth fur such , a faCe and stilt a form," thought he; .“what a pity that the sh uld only be a blacksmith's daughter." -1; Lucy, who,had been a party to Frank's innocent design upon what he considered his friend's l 'only weakness, harrowly scrutenized his condi ct, in or- 1 der to discoyer if there were not some cho 1 ge in de- meanour e'onsetioent upon the recent-discovery of i 1 - their humble origin. But Henri possessed:too no- i 1 ble a nature to be guilty of such nit_tOies , ; and whatever he thought, he alloWed no trace of feel ings to be ?received in his , conduct. 1 -- Months passed away, attd the time drew Wear (Or Frank's rei d ,urn to New Orleans. ".Po you mean to accompany me, Ilet . ri," said he, ono day to his friend, "or shall you -pend 'the winter amid thetayeties of New York'?" "That does not depend on my wilt," Henri quickly; "I mean to be decided bl stances." "\Vhat o you mean, Henri?" "Is it possible you do not guess my and that her decision must 'govern my Lions?" • "My sister!" exclaimed Frank. "I trust you are only jesting, Henri, mid yet it is a subject on which Frank? have you rot aeon that I love your sister I can scarce bear a jest." "I am s4rious as I hope for Heaven." . "Then I can only say, tIMt I shall der your having entered this humble abode." "Frank lis this your friendship?" . "What will 3tout friend:; what wijl i the Henri, if you return to your native lam daughter f a village mechanic as your 'not they : license me. of a mercenary desi 0. you into my family?" roiirself not concernon that set L. I [than, rich and unconneetedkat. choose fLit myself." ucy love you, Ilenri?" I dared answer in the Alma ken to her on the subject, but lets most have informed her of 1 to has become so strangely 1. bin the last few weeks, that I s :self with hole." illerstands it all. Aie'of love, Henri, introdueilY ; "Give I am an 0 a right to lIMIS 41 wish never spo anq mann in truth s rgered wi flatter m "She u, her your answer—t I=2l "Wha "As I h nve done. I know eve, but she will verious—the love ier character, my friend; lot become your wife." which coul d overcome ices, ought to conquer her scrlsles.'' nowledge of those prejudices,peari, has ter scruples; she is as 'proud s yourself, ery fact of their B ing a sing) distinction you, Which cool lead. you t think you oping to an allitinc with her, would be suf o_tnalte her reject your suit. Try, if you dare say she could love you ; vith all the if her aPckinnate !nature, but r consent to your proposals." - was right, though l lletiri's In r his love, made liqo hope a bi: l inestly confessed that in other ) (mid hate been the object of !from the moment When she dit i l alities of his charlacter, she ii l i r herself from the wleakness of I no believer in bliiW fatality re. s, Mr. De Valence,"said sheq ycu pos-essed the attribute's which are . tire to t omen, but I knotsi that you differeni sphere of life; 7 —n ind 1 do not one, thunghthe world . thin is it so. I loved jlit dearly, but 'I %%ilk! not, an I my heart rebels; but my dt.cision is mi t "(Amy, dearest, Lucy, with such fee itig forme in your own hcsoin. why w my suit"? I have, wealth unbounded; y pass lig I e a fairy tale." 1- - "When you offered me a true heart, 1 lence,ou offered a strotger tempte r w ISi e Ith of your Indian isle. the'o—b I I one of s, an heir to repiblican feelin haps r.):oublican povert i , I could (Eel en you - the heart and hand Which yot I you h6..e prejudices which are a part itage, ( a vlyou would WA to have it h world hat ilte father of yOur bride was ,'. I a too prong, lowly thoi proud/to be look° down uponf 1 "Sukose, those projn ices were ce Ow inv "Xou y prejt "The MB aroused ces, and and the between ME Were sto Y. — 1 im jlinch iir°t n t;:i hi s and ficient t TEM w arinth 3 ield he Prank as well Lucy lio, ces Ise wr but that noble q guarded "I a affectio arti§an AT to nnot ;;Uppose an i r early vigour, bu to waive them. 'ld, nil the %Min. ►vice, •ou would be constantly on the watch leiq fhe 'of my birth should escape. "ou would be ally mortified by my i,gnoran e of fashiona uette; every que. , ,•tioir respec ing my early be torture, to yim; theret a mi l ne of my rich es would seem to you to bear a sinutch fronl acksmith's fingers. No ? sir, for your sake ban my own, I dare not reciprocate - your al-, ~I peqvi' blileti lifE w egt ro tilt b nwe feoi. lain Henri pleaded with hil the eloquence of an ioned lover. Lucy waslresolnte, even though att strongly assorted ita.claim i to be heard.— hus they parted; Henri to lament over his nn ed love, and Lucy to cherish it the Secret-re of her heart a 'tender' recol ection of one proffered affection sho had rejccted. • - • •' • •_ itn)az het h And t reoi ceibe wios; e years had passed away-- r ilvel years with all ances and changes, ere Fronk once more re d his father and sister. rip, was tipidly win his way to fortune, but his father, like the Man . ] Fontaine's pretty fable, had. found her sittink ' s. door. One of those speculativt4ehernes which a the few rich and the manyoloor, hail brought great demand the land lying on the borders of iver which divided the villtiiel where he resi t Taking advantage of a mani. which he did -11are 4 Mr. Weston sold hiefa m itt.a price far . . into the dad not answered 131113E1 meaning, uture MEM world say, with the fe? Will .11 in thus re, Frank; rely I hove ire; 1 have' my looks y feelings; oh] and re arcely can le girl: tell lid she will ;She is a not if you will, Ishe will not vanity :ter •ivsult. 1 . etrcurnstan- her choice, icdi•ered the )cl carefully ving bib). 7arding the 1 , 1 saw that issnst aurae elongell to a say a higher might have , even no de." I Hogs plead -11 you reject ur life shall Mr. Da W ien than all ad you been ga and per fidy have' giv7 seek. But t. ydur heri - nown to the 1 1 an humble )okli I seem, I vercorne, Lu- they .exist- in r anee, you are 2riss7bility in . this ins If I were t become your beyond his wildest ideas of its' value, and abandon ing his forge, sought an abode in the populous city, where extensive libraries and the society; of cultiva ted men afforded him the advantages he had so long sighed to enjoy, Frank found the old man occupy ing a neat and comfortable mansion, while Lucy was now quite a city belle, and really looked prettier than ever: Lucy was now three-and-twenty, and every one predicted that she would be an old 'maid, for she seemed to have formed some ideal scheine of happiness which could scarcely be realized in this cold world. But Frank had/not returned - alone; Henri de Valence was again his conpanion. ', , 1 had great difficulty in persuading him to' come," said Frank, as Lucy blushing and trembling, endea vored to welcome with calmness her brother's friend. "Lucy,',' whispered Henri, "I came to you when all the luxries of wealth were mine, and I determined never to appear before you again until I could con vince you that these fatal prejudices which 'had been the the barrier to my happiness, were entirely over come. _ But fate hasiorderecl it otherwise. I come L not novas a lover, Lucy; no my heart is still full of your image, but lam now beg.gar; labor and sorrow are henceforth my portion.. " "What do you mean, Henri?" asked Lucy, as Frank discreetly led hip father from the room. "A hurricane has ruined the value of my West India possessiens, Lucy, anp a general revolt of the slaVes on the island has driven me from my native land. I have returned to , our peaceful country to I earn my tread by the Sweat of my brow. I ollered myself to your brother as/a clerk, but he tvoilld not 1 listen to,my proposal, and I am now a partner in 1 his commercial houses'__. " Do you still love me, Henri 1" said Lucy, lthile the blood' mantled her cheek and brow' with crimson. "God,:knows how _fervently," responded Henri; " for your sake, I have become blind to the beauty of women, and deaf to the accents of tenderdess; but not now would I'fue for the love which you once denied; you refused to share my wealth, and there must now be none to softer my poverty." "Am I not-now rich enditgli for both Henri'?" mur mured limey as he laid her hand in his. "The love which has survived so long a probation, is beyond all price; will you accept as a free-will offering the hand yciti once sought 'in vain, or will, you cease to value that which in so unmaideuly a manner.is be stowee :unsought?" I.llie_y-beeatne the wife of her early lover, and when in la tier 'life, his renovated fortunes enahleil him to display his beautiful wife in, the saloons of Eltrropean elegance, the admiration which her graceful man ners, and self-possessed dignity obtained, left {tim no cause to : regret that he had found TRUE NOBILITY in the BLACKSMITH ' S DAUGHTER. - Teti SUFFERING MonmoNs.-I.etters from the Up per Missouri, state that between• four and five thou sand of the Mormons have taken up their line of march from their winter quarters at Council Bluffs for the Salt Lakes country, beyond the Rocky Mountains. we uie :tun), co learn chat they leave behind,:in the'eountry of the Pawnees, Owabas and ttoes, and in the unsettled portions of low , a large t xfinber who tire too sick and too poor to p oeeed On li tlieir journey Among these there has betln a con siderable mortality during the post winterftrom the eSposure and 'privation incident to their condition, and they appear to be without much hope of im proving it. We are informed that.delegates from these poor people to solicit alms in, their behalf are now in bur,city, and need say no more to invite for them the liberality of all truly charitable.—j Times. GEN. Pmr.ow.—The last we have seen from the court of inquiry in Mexico, is in •favor of this basely traduced and per'secuted officer. The Whole of the proceedings against him are disgraceful to the army. Ills foibles are magnified' into crime; his steps watched; his every conversation noted and pervert ed; and the ready witness, Trist, even counted the letters he addressed to his wife! We arelnot par l - ticular admirers of Gen. Pillow, but we must say that his deportment throtfghout, befbre the court of inquiry, has shown hi l m to be superior in many re- - specti., to his prosecutors. The whole prosecution will turn out to have originated in political malig nity. A brave officer who had been twice cut d'ovi in battle, was to be 9crificed in order to injure the President of the United States. Notwithstanding those petty weaknesses—the fondness for pomp add ,praise—which mark the character of Gen. Pillow, we believe the verdict of public opinion will be in his favor when all the facts_in regard to his trial shall come out. We hope the President will'cause them to be published.—Mississippian. Mon ABOUT THAT "Ros."—A new rolling mill has just been completed at Trenton, N. J., while a mill heretofore erected is turning out 300 tons of railroad iron a weak. I,arg,e brick build ing, live stories high, and 216 by 54 feet, is being built at Auburn,.N. Y. It is intended for a woolen factory, and will contain 20 setts of machinery.— there is now nearly finished, at Matto, N. Y., a pail (Wooden bucket) factory, that will give.employ ment:to 100 hands, and will turn out, 1000 pails a ay. The cost of the building and Machinery Will be probably e 30,000,. - The Chesapeake and Delar'- ware Canal is now doing a greater amount of busi ness than it has ever been doing before. From 20 to 30 vessels and boats are continually waiting at each end; and - one day last week, forty-three canal boats were towed from Havre-de-Grace to Chesa peake city, at one time, being the largest number ever towed by a single boat.—Pittsbilrgh POst. - A FoaTuNy.Duscovimr.o.—On the line of the Con card and Montreal railroad, the first seventeen miles of 'which is to be opened this , week' as far.as San bernton bridge, the freight earsmre already, active-. ly employed in conveying soap stone from a quarry recently discovered, while gradkng the ro4d, in Can terbury. The stone is said to pe of the ,first,Tiali ty; and the fortunate pioprietor of the quarry, Cap. Enoch Gibson, finds for it a really market at the rate of e2B per ton. "Ex-rnrins ManT.'"—We notice in the last Washingt4n Union, that' the lion. Mr. Pillsbury. member of congress from Texas, was on the iSth inst., married to Miss Rebecca S. Carpender' of Penobscot, Maine. Mr: Pillsbury, according to the old saying, might "have, gone farther and fared worse;' but he couldint ha e gone a great waysfor'- ther in this cou dry for-a tile, that's certain. " itl7" 'The %Vhig Nations Convention inech; in Phila ae„lphin on the 7th of Jane ' NUMBER 1. NAPOLEON reigned as Emperor in Prance. The learned and modest lexicographer, Boiste, had just pUt the finishing stroke to his dictionary. lle had arrived at the:point of time so happy for an author he had just corrected the last proof-sheet, and sent' it to his publisher. Sweet wag' his sleep, with brilliant dreatns of future fame! The next day,•the book that Would give him name and wealth was to see the light! He awoke to find his bed surrounded by gen d'armes. . ' _ • "Gentlemen, you have certainly made some mis take. lam Monsieur _Boiste, grammarian to the emperor." "The very man," answered the laconic brigadier. "It is all right: here is the order for_ the arrest of Boiste, grammarian." The argument was conclusive—there wag no ap peal. Go with them he must: and soon the vehicle stopped before the fort of Vincennes. . Once arrived at the prison, poor Boiste had some hope that the obStinate sillmce hitherto maintained would cease. He humbly supplicated to be told the cause of his arrest, pr esting his innocence and de voted allegience.. he o dial, through'some little feeling of respect for an old man, deigned qi_open the order for arrest; and after readingit, -- COolly an swered, "To secure the public safety." Poor 'Joists was then sent 011 - to a room, the iron bars of its windows securing to him three months', leisure to torture his brain in the endeavor to discov er how he who had spent his whole life arranging words under their different heatle,_from A to Z, could Ilve compromised the public safety. _lle said to himself, with all the tranquility -of an untroubled conscience, "It cannot be for My book that - I -am arrested, since it has been examined three times over, corrected, and considerably diminished, by both the heads and the subordinates in the office of the imperial censorship." - Boiste did not content himself with lamentations; he made strew?, appeals, 4 - memorials addressed -te— en the influential persons of his acquaintance, al - ways ending with this most higical conclusion, "I have done nothing; but only tell -me what I have done, that I may justify myself." But, unhappily, not one of his letters was answer ed. At length, one appeal from the unlucky pris oner fell into the hands of - Pentanes, ILE, head of the university, who knew and esteemed the poor grammarian; and fully persuaded of the itmesence of a man whose whole life had been devoteit to his dictionary, he hastened to Mention him to ihe em peror; who, happening to be in a favorable mood that day, smiled at the artless'epistle, and viewing the matter in the.snme light with Fontanel:, sent fur the Duke of Otranto. Fouche was as ignorant as they were of the grounds of arregt, and was 'quite surprised; he had probably signed the order without reading it; and he in his turn summoned the prefect. The - prefect could give no explanation, - and sent for his deputy; who, after two days of re search, at last found the fatal document. It was taken to. the Tuilleries, and there it was found that it was made out upon the d'eniMciation of the cen sor, ho bad r.cttin , iy charged Beiste -)p g I t spoken of Bonaparte as a spthlatPr. "Howl warm? where?" this cleapriciation did not mention. The censor was ordered to makeltis.appearance; but ho teas about a hundred leagues oft on n' tour of in spection, exercising his vigilant superintendence-of MI the provincial press. "Let Boiste himseit'be examined," was Napoleon's next order. "For, besides that I believe him inca. pubic of such an act, it realliwould not be common sense in a dictionary." , The next day, Boiste was once more permitted to sec the sub„ and , was carried to the,Babinet of the , Duke of Orantu, where Fontanes was already in at- tendance. "Sir," said Fondle, "you are accused of a libel ag,aiustthe-;august prince who reigns over this migh- ty empire," "A libel! I, my lord? Surely you cannot belie - ve it? A libel comes from libellus, a little book. Ask that gentleman, sir, at the head of our university...—. I know too well the meaning—the force of words, to—" "Nevertheless,l added rontanes, showing him the information, but keeping his finger 'over the sisns 'ture, "read , . Boiste cast hii eyes rapidly along the paper. . "Well!" cried Fouche, seeing the quiet 6unte. nance unchanged. "Is - that -all?" said Boiste. • "All! and is it not quite enough? I hopejor your sake, it is a mistake." ' ' "NOt at all: it is the truth." 4 4 l'he truthl" "Unquestionably: it was all to do ho or to oui emper" : " • "To do hoaor to him!". "Yes; to show that he was asr o ptitto.Jinguist as lie is a hero," r "Come, sir!" said Fondle, impatiently, "it is qtiito ime to put an end to such foolery. This is no jest- ng matter." “God foibid that I shouiil make a jest of it! I would not take such a liberty to 'yogi' excellency's nesence." "Be good enoufrh to-give some explanation, then" "Nothing it lirb exisy." And taking a copy of hiti dictionary, which lay 'on the table; he opened it at the Word "spoliator," and/pointing to two words in the following order:—"Spoliator—Bonapartc." The two functionaries indignantly exclaimed "And pluit could have tempted yowl() such en au dacious libel?" - "I was but giving his majesty , the credit due to him.' I ( ttt his name after the ,word 'spoliator, as the anth rity for the word—he, when General Bo ) naparthltving been the first to make use of the ex -I'l pressidn ' n the tribune.', It is a coinage of his own, and not known in; the French language till he used Fouche and i f .`ortanes turned upon each other n be wildered look, thiste was set at liberty; but it cost him the expense of the sheets that replaced the sedi tious page through the ilhole edition. And Boiste ' thought himself happy to - .get off so cheaply, now now that he began to preceive that his tribute to the emperor's coinago was considered so equivocal a com pliment. ErTho I I arrishorgh Telqvaplt alleges that two-thirds of the Peints:, ivania I),•legates to tho Federal National Convenl ion at e im• Srott: The Libelled Emperor. MEM
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers