1Y20221.3&%?9.1
V. 14 Vo
The Naideies Prayer.
sr J. 0. warrrtra.
9e rose from her delicious sleep,
A n d put aside ben soft brown hair,
Oa in a tone as tow and deep
• A s love's first whisper, breathed a prayer.
o . .B ri stow white hamis together pressed,
Her blde eyes sheltered in the lid,
ri• g folded linen on her breast,
• Just swelling with the charms ithid;
Ind from her tang and flowing dress
Escaped a bare and slender foot,-
' •Whose steps upon the ,earth did press
Like a new snow-flake, whim and mute;
Cl a d then from slumbers soft and warm,
Like a young spirit fresh from heaven,
•' , JShe bowed that slight and matchless form,
And humbly prayed to be forgiven.
o,God, if souls unsoiled as these,
•if Seed daily mercy from thy throne—
! lf,he upon her fended knees—
Our holiest and our purest one;
She with a face as cleat and bright,
We deem her some stray child of night;
If ;he with those soft eyes in tears,
DAy after day, in her young years,
7lusit kneel and pray for grace from Thee,
.IVkat far, far d'ieper need have we I
How hardly, if she win not heaven,
\vita our wild errors be-forgiven !
Buckwheat Cakes.
They are all my fancy painted them,
'l'hey're lovely, they're divine—
hey' re destined for another's mouth,
They never can be mine !
I loved them as man never loved,
~Yet dare not touch nor take;
&a, my heart my heart is breaking
- For the love of Buckwheat Cake !
he dark brown cake is laid upon
A plate of spotless white—
And the eye of him who tastes it,
Now flashes with delight!"
The cake was buttered not for me,
Of it f can't partake . ;
Oh, my heart, my heart is breaking,
For the love of, Buckwheat Cake!
revelled at the pastry cook's,
But I have-ate my. last;
flcan't get cake I will have none,
My eating days are past.
And ben the green sod wraps my - grave,
They'll say who pity take,
Oh, his heart, his heart was broken,
Falb love of Buckwheat Cake !"
Better Moments.
I=
c mother'i voice ! how often creeps
1 Its cadence on my lonely hours!
'ike healing sent on wings of sleep,
Ordew to the unconscious flowers.
. -
cannot forget her mel ti n g prayer,
While leaping pulses madly fly,
in the still, unbroken air,
Her gentle tones come stealing by--
I 'a years. and sin, and manhood flee,
lease me at my mother's knee.
I=l
!heart Is harder, and perhaps °
Ifs manliness bath drank up tears;
there's a mildew in the lapse
Of a few miserable years = -
;
nature's book is open yet'
4.1 1/ all my mother's lessons writ.
4re been out at eventide
Beneath a moonlight sky of spring,
r 12 earth was garnished like a bride,
Anil night had onlier silver wing--
. .
'al when the beautiful spirit there
Flung over me its goldensehairr
. mother's voice came on the air
Like the dripping of the rain=
;4 resting Oa some silver star,
?he spirit of abended knee,
• Pour'd out Icivi and fervent .prayer
?hat our eternity might be,
'rise in heaveii, like stars at night,
tread a living path of light.
ho Giveth gongs in the Night.
When courting slumber,,
The hours I number,
The sad cares cumber
My wearied mind ;
This thought shall cheer me,
That thou art near me,
Whose ear to hear me
Is still inclined.
My soul Thou keepest,
Who never aleepe et,
'Mid gloom the deepest,
• There's light above.
Thine eyes behold me;
Thine eyes enfold me;
Thy won] has told :me
That God is lova. 1-
G'lY, , /t! i „ii,ft.ei o r le
4
ti t 40 / " 1 t iir V i 4. -,0 ,o ,o
4
[From the New Monthly Magazine.)
The Duelist's Vow.
A TALE FOR THE TIMES
Upon a certain Wednesday evening
in the spring of the year 183—, a con
siderable concourse of persons assem
bled upon the Piece, du Capitole, at
Toulouse, anxiously awaiting the open
ing of the theatre doors. The opera
announces was 'the favorite one of
"Guillaume Tell," the part of Mat/ai
de by Mademoisselle Pauline Duvey
rier, 'a yew* actress who had but re
cently made her debut upon the stage,
but yet by her fine voice and correct
musical taste, her beauty and elegance,
had already become no inconsiderable
favorite with the music-loving and
tidal population of Toulouse. % hat
rendered her success the more remarka
ble was, that her name was one quite
unknown in the theatrical world, and
that, without any previous training in
inferior establishments, she had step
ped upon the boardsof one of the best
provincial theatres in France, and by
her unquestionable ability, at once se
cured - herself a firm footing. It was
understood that she was of respectable
family, and had not been originally in
tended for an actress ; but that the sud
den death of her father in insolvent cir
cumstances, had compelled her to ex
ert for her support those musical talents
which she had previously cultivated for
her amusement. She had now been
about three months on the Toulouse
stage ; and although assailed during
that time by the various temptations to
which her beauty and her position as
an actress rendered her peculiarly lia
ble, she had preserved an unblemished
reputation, and the extreme correctness
'of her conduct hid been scarcely less
matter of comment and admiration than
her magnificent voice and her dramatic
power.
The doors of the theatre were at
length opened, and the pit and galleries
instantaneously filled by the crowd that
rushed inc. Before the,hour that was
still to pass, previously to the com
mencement of the performance, had
more than half elapsed, the boxes also
began to fill ; and when the curtain
rose, it would have been difficult to
find a sitting or standing room for a
single person in the whole of the thea
tre. There was nothing unusual in
this crowded state of the house'; it was
of frequent occurrence when Mademoi
selle Duveyrier played, but upon the
evening in question a considerable por
tion of the audience had been attracted
to the theatre by' other motives than
those of admiration of the actress or the
opera.
The prima donna, who for several
years had had an engagement at the
Toulouse theatre, and who still be
longed to the company, had deemed
herself greatly injured and agrieved by
the triumphant success of Pauline Du
veyrier. The defects of her somewhat
deteriorated voice and damaged reputa
tion were brought out into strong re
lief by the fresh tones and perfect pro
priety of conduct - of the debutante,
whom the manager had, moreover
caused to replace her in. several of the
parts she had been long accustomed to
sing, and which she thought the most
advantageous for, the exhibition of her
poivers. During the first flush of Pau
line's success ; it would have been in
vain to have attempted organizing any
thing like a cabal against her; but her
rival had waited patiently for an oppor
tunity, which she at last thought she
had found, of diminishing the daily in
creasing popularity of the new actress
Several rich young men, idlers and de
bauchers by profession, who had been
covetous of the notoriety that a liaison
with an elegant and admired actress ,
would confer upon them, had thought
proper to be deeply offended by the
firm, and sometinies contempious man
ner in which Mademoiselle Dnveyrier
had rejected their advances. • While
their wounded vanity was still smarting,
several of these disappointed aspirants
met at a gay supper at the house of
Paulinne's rival, who, by her sarcastic
style of rallying them on their bad suc
cess, managed to increase their irrita
teflon, until it reached the point at
which she had aimed. She then repre
sented Pauline as an artful prude, af
fecting reserve so long-as she found it
advintageous so to do, but Who could
easily forget her rigid principles when
it was necessary to propitiate a mana
ger or secure the favor of a critic. By
these and other inuendoes she contriv
ed to set even the unprejudiced portion
of her guests against the unsuspecting
Pauline ; and amidst copious libations
of champaigne, it' was agreed that a
grand effort should be- made to pull
Regardless of Denunciation from any Quarter.—Gov' t . P
- OHM.
11012IDinIEZ (M7SIW9 IFFK*II,I2I2 B 11S9 11,84iL
down this new goddess of song froni
the elevation on which the favor or ca
price of the public had !heed her.—
The conspirator's arranged their plan
of operations, and the following Wed
nesday, when Mademoiselle Duveyrier
was to appear forthe first time in the
part of Mathilde, was fixed upon for
the execution of the scheme.
Accordingly, on thestiay in question,
a formidable band of hard-handed, loud
voiced ruffians, hired at so much a
head by the contrivers of\the plot, -as
sembled at the theatre-ddnr, and en
tering with th; crowd, stationed them
selves in groups in various parts of Ithe
pit and galleries. They offered , no in
terruption to the earlier,part of the ope
ra, but when Mathilde made her ap
pearance, and before she had sung
three bars of her part, ahe was greeted
with a deafening: peal of disapprobation.
Hissing, whistling, shouting, yelling,
resounded front all parts of the house,
and the uproar was maintained with a
vigor that for some time drowned the
applause of the impartial portion of the
audience. The young actress, unac
customed to`such a reception, became
pale and red by turns, hesitated, trem
bled, tried to go on, and finally, terri
fied and distressed by the clamor, was
sinking to the ground, when a gentle
man, sitting in one of-the stage-boxes,
sprang forward, caught her in his arms
just in time to prevent her falling and
carried her behind the scenes. The
curtain immediately fell.
A regular vocal combat now organ
ized itself in the theatre. The cabellers
continued their roar of disapprobation,
although Its object was no longer be
fore them ; but the majority of the audi
ence responded by an enthusiastic ap
plause that finally triumphed. Some
of the most riotous of the malcontents
were expelled from the house, the oth
ers were silenced, and there was a uni
versal cry for continuation of the ope
ra. The manager came forward and
said, That Mademoiselle Duveyrier
was too unwell to sing any more that
night, but that a favorite vaudeville
should be substituted for the remain
der of the opera!' 'With this the au
dience were obliged to content them
selves.
The individual who had come so op
portunely to the assistance of the young
actress, was a Spanish gentleman who
had been for some time stopping at one
of the principal hotels in Voulouse, and
who was known by the name of the
'Senor Leon. After passing the winter
in Italy, he was returning to his own
country by way of the south of France,
when he chanced to pause a day in the
capital of Languedoc, and visiting the
theatre, was exceedingly struck b y e the
voice and beauty of Pauline Du veyrier.
He 'made various inquiries about her,
and was informed that she was l new
actress, very popular; and it was said
of unblemished reputation. He coun
termanded the post-horses he had or
dered for the following morning, and
had since that day remained at Tou
louse. leading a quiet and retired life,
and passing his evenings at the theatre
whenever Mademoiselle played. He
had secured one of.the stage-boxes. and
every opera night he made his appear;
ance in it while the overture was play
ing, and remained till the curtain fell
upon the Fast scene of the performance.
When Pauline was on the stage, his
eyes never once wandered to any. ob
ject, but were constantly fixed upon her
expressive and beautiful countenance,
or following her graceful movements.
The actress on her part, could not well
avoid observing the handsome man of
foreign and distinguished appearance,
who was unremitting in his attendance
upon opera nights, - and whose gaze,
although so earnest, was in no way ei
ther offensive or disrespectful. In time a
sort of silent acquaintance seemed to
spring up between the actress and her
assiduous auditor. Involuntarily, un
known indeed to herself, Pauline's first
glance upon making her entree was to
the stage-box. where she never failed
to read a welcome in the dark, expres
sive eyes of the Spaniard, although he
invariably abstained from- joining , in
the applause lavished on her by
,the au
dience.
It is difficult to say.how long 1..e0n
,might have contented himself with thus
.playing the part of a mute admirer, if
the incident already related had not af
forded him the, opportunity of making
Pauline's acqnaintance. ;When he had
carried her to her dressing room, and
consigned her to the care of an atten
dant, he waited behind the scenes till
he heard that she was recovered, and
then left the theatre. 'pie following:
day he called at her house; ,and . sent in
a request to be allowed to make his
peesonal inqu Hies concerning her heal&
It would have been ungracious, if not
ungrateful, to halsie refused to admit
him ; and althougi Pauline had, from
her very first arrtval at Toulouse, de
clined all visits npon the plea of her
lonely and unprotected position, she
could not avoid milking an exception in
favor of Leon. I
If the mere beanty and grace of the
actress had made an impression upon
the • Spaniard, that impression becadie
stronger when be was enabled to judge
of her mental perfections and accom
plishments. Entirely free from the
frivolity and coquetry not uncommon in
women of her profession, Pauline was
as remarkable for the refinement of her
tone and manner, as for the elegance of
her mind and the interest excited by
her conversation. In the well-bred and
intelligent Spaniard, she found one ca
pable of appreciating her, and willing
to enjoy her society, without wearying
her by professions of attachment, or in
inking her by that sort of incense which
many men, in his position, would have
thought it necessary to offer up on the
altar of a young and prety actress.—
His visit was prolmiged far beyond the
usual period of a morning call, without
either himself or Pauline being aware
of its length, and when at last he rose
to depart, he obtained, without diffieul
ty, permislion to return upon a future
day.
Leon soon became a constant visitor
at the house of Mademoiselle Duvey
'rier, and had many opportunities of ob
serving her correct deportment„ and
ttib already firmness with which she
repelled the attempts constantly made
to induce her to deviate from it. More
than once when he was sitting in her
drawing-room, listening to her exqui
site performance 'on the piano, or to
her repetition of some difficult melody
that she was to sing the same night at
the theatre, did her maid enter the
apartment with a perfumed billet, ac
coinpartying a case of jewels, a pair of
brilliant earrings, a necklace, or some
other object which the sender had
deemed the most likely to tempt the
vanity of the actress. Notes and pre
sents were, however, invariably re
turned unanswered. The only hom
age of this kind that was ever well re
ceived by Pauline, was some Magnifi
cent bouquets of choice flowers, with
which Leon Was in the habit of supply
ing her. Once, and once only, he
he ventured to attempt making her a
present of another description. He had
heard her express admiration of a su
perb brilliant ring worn by an actress.
On hen return from rehearse! the fol
lowing morning, she found a bouquet
in her room, of which the most con
spicuous flower was a moss-rose, full
blown, and in the cup of this rose was
placed a ring, far surpassing in beauty
the one she had admired. Half an
hour afterwards the flower containing
the ring was returned to Leon, envel
oped in a sheet of paper, on w-hick
weri>written the words, I;do not love
roses."
On his next visit he saw his flowers •
occupying their accustomed place in
an elegant porcelain vase, and Pauline
received him with her usual kind frank
ness of manner. No allusion was ever
made by either of them to the ring.
Meantime Leon's visits to the ac
tress had become matter of much con.
versation. There was at that time ,a
circle or club at Toulouse, amongst
the members of which were numerous
young men of good family, resident in
the town, or having their estates and
chateaux in the neighborhood, some of
the superior officers of the garrison, and
a few foreigners of distinction. Leon
had been introduced there by Count
Vermejo, a Spanish nobleman who had
left his country for political reasons,
and had been living for some time at
Toulouse. In this club the proceed
ings of Mademoiselle Duveyrier were
matters of frequent discussion, and in
numerable were the pieces of scandal
here, invented or retailed by her (haat) !
pointed admirers, with the kind inten
tion of casting,a slur upon one whose
correct life and unpretending manners
should have commanded their respect.
The utter absence of foundation that
distinguished all these inventions caus
ed them to fall rapidly to the ground,
and it was with no slight exultation
that the ci-devant adorers of the actress
caught at the pretext afforded •them by
Leon's visits to her house, for assail-.
ing her reputation with redoubled viru
lence. The absence of all affectation
or mystery in the Spaniard's acqoain
taince with Pauline, at first rather dia.
concerted the scandal-mongers;..His
visits were made openly and at mad-day;
he never appeared behind , the scenes of
the theatre; nor'seemed iii any manner
to' watch or follow her, and- if he 'met'
her in the street his salutation was
courteous; and respectful, without ei
ther the familiarity or restraint from
which more than a. mere acquaintance
ship might have been inferred. The
mere fact of the Visits, therefore, was
all there was to 'raid upon, and that
fact Leon never attempted - to deny, at
the same time that he steadily repelled
all insinuations
.against Pauline's fair
fame, and discountenanced by every
means in his power inuendoes and jests
upon this subject,. Although not ex
ceedingly intimate with any of his club
fellows, he was generally liked amongst
them. Moreover, he was one of those
grave, earnest men with whom few
persons think it advisable to push a
joke beyond its proper limits, and
when it wal seen that any light and
unfitting conversation concerning Ma
demoiselle Duveyrier was unpleasant
to him, that tone was rarely adopted in
his presence.
It happened one night that Leon re
mained at the club later than was his
custom, in order to finish a game at
chess. It was past midnight when,, the
silence of the room, which had long
been deserted by all but the two play
ers, was suddenly broken by the noisy
entrance of a dozen young men, who
had been dining together at the coun
try-house of one of their number, and
had just returned to town, all heated
with wine, and some of them more
than half intoxicated. The party con
sisted of five or six hobereaux or coun
try gentlemen of the vicinity, three or
four staff-officers, and a young banker
who had recently managed to get ad..'
mitted into the club,—an admission
which he owed more to his wealth, and
to the readiness with which he had
obliged certain needy young men of
family, than to any agreeable or gen
tlemanly qualities of his own. He was
vulgar, purse-proud, and conceited, and
when, as l on this occasion, under the
influence of wine, he became intolera
bly assuming and even quarrelsome.—
He was, or rather had been, a great ad
mirer of Mademoiselle Duveyrier. to
whom, within a few days after her first
appearance, he had sent a letter, little
remarkable for its good taste or delicacy
of expression, containing offers which . ,
however advantageous in a pecuniary
point of view, the young actress had
repulsed with strong marks of indigna
tion. The letter had been returned in
a blank cover, by the hands of the lac
quey who brought it, and in whose
hearing Mademoisselle Davey tier gave
strict orders to her servants to refuge
any other letters or communications
from the same quarter. From that day
Lavrille, the banker, became the invet
erate enemy of the actress. He had
been one of the chief organizeis of the
attempt, to crush her theatrical pros
pects, and since the failure of that, plot,
had lost no opportunity of venting his
malice by attacks upon her character,
both private and professional.
The new comers had ridden and dri
ven into town together, and their con
veriation on the road had been of the
theatre, a frequent theme of discussion
in French provincial cities. The sub
ject appeared to be not yet exhausted,
and while twine three or four went to
watch the chess players, the others
threw themselves upon sofas and arm
chairs, and continued their loud and
laughing commentaries upon actors and
actresses, the latter of whom seemed
to meet with small mercy at their
hands. If .their ruthlehs detractors
might be believed, the imperfection and
failings Of theladies were glaring and
manifold. One had false teeth, another
false hair, a singer was losing her voice
through a too great addiction to the
brandy bottle, and a dancer was indebt
ed to cork and'eotton for the symmetri
cal proportions with which she delight
ed the eyes of the public. It was a fes
tival of scandal, to which each contri
buted his quota amidst the uproarious
applause and laughter of his compan.
ions, until at last„ the banker brought
the name of Pauline Duveyrier on the
tapis. There was a puuse, and several
glances thrown in the direction of Leon,
who was apparently absorbed in his
game of chess.
Slim, Lavrille,' said De Ronce
valles, a'captain on the staff. who liked
Leon, had chows a disposition to culti
vate his acquaintaince, that is forbid-,
den ground. you know. No attacks
upon the belle Pauline, the Bayard of the
buskin. la comedienne , sans reproache."
6. Psliaw ! sans reproache," replied
Lavrille: 'olio easier said than proved.
There are some here who could tell tales
if they-would."
And, he turned his, insolent, half
drUnketi stare upon Leon, whorinaained
perfectly undisturbed, his eyes fixed
upon the chess hoard,
(UV' Ilia Co scoccettent a costa
" - A credulous generation you are,"
continued the banker. "Truly your
faith is great if it enables you to place
reliance on the ,virtue of a singer, and
that singer one who. in spite of prude
ry, does not debar herself from all so
ciety. I could tell you a thing or two
that would perhaps shake your trust in
this paragon of propriety." ,
The old gentleman who had been
playing at chess with Leon, rose from
his chair and left the room. He had
given his adversary checkmate. Leon
took up a newspaper, and seated him
self upon an ottoman at some distance
from the talkers.
.. You all know Eugene Daimon,"
said Lavrille to his listeners, who nod
ded assent. ..He started this morning
for iParis. and I was, with him for an
hour previous to his departure. He
told me that the night before last he was
returning from a' late party at nearly
two hours past midnight, and on pass
ing before the house of this phoenix of
yours, De Roncevalles, the door was
cautiously opened, a man closely muf
fled in a cloak came out, cast a hasty
look around him toil he were observed,
and then walked away at a rapid pace.
Rather late hours, methinks, for Lucre
tia to be receiving visits, eh ?"
Absurd 1" replied De Roncevilles.
"The house is inhabited by a dozen
persons besides Mademioselle Duvey
rier. How can you tell which of them
the Man had been visiting ?"
...Certainly," returned banker, " it
would be impossible to say, if Delman
had not recognized the mysterious ca
valier. Having done so, there could
no longer be any doubt."
• And who was it ?" shOined half-a
dozen of the thoughtless young men,
starting from their seats, and surround
ing the banker. .6 Tell us who it was,
Lavrille ?"
Lavrille hesitated, and .ganeed at Leon,
who had laid down his newspaper, and
was listening to what was going on,
Who was it, I:3l , 6lle—who was it !"
insisted the young men. amused at the
banker's embarrassment, and vet impati ,
ent at his delay in satisfying their curiosi..
ty.
" Pshaw ! It's a story of his own in
vention- ! He is inspired by the cham
pagne, which has stimulated both his im
agination and hiS malice."
" Ha! an invention of mine." ve.
aerated Lavrill, irritated by the banter
of his.companions, and forgetting all re
serve and prudence " You take me for
a dealer in fictions, but I will - prove to
you that lam none such. The Senor
Leon is the person who - seen , coming
out of L Duveyrier's house at two in the
morning. I leave you to guess Whom
he had been to visit."
All eyes were turned upon Leon, who
rose from hie chair, and approached
Lavrille.
' "You are entirely misinformed in this.
matter, sir," said the Spaniard, gravely
but courteously. "I am acquainted with
Mademoiselle Duveyrier, and in the ha.
bit of occasionally visiting her, but it has
never occured to me to enter or leave
her house after dark. My visits are in
variably paid in the daytime.
_ "Do you mean that my friend Dalman
is capable of a falsehood V' said the half
intoxicated Lavrille fiercely. " Ile told
me himself that he had seen and recog
nized you. I know hik word - and eyesight
to be good, and would trust tothem be
fore the assurance of any stiff necked don
breathing, ay, if he werefirst cousin to
the king of his beggarlyuntry."
This attack, conspicuous alike for its
violence and bad taste, was met with per
fect coolness by Leon. •
" You should consider the proabilities
a little, Monsieur Lavrille," said he.—
" Your friend may easily have mistaken
in the darkneis,,the person of a man who,
he himself says, was closely wrapped in
a cloak. On the other hand, 1 pledge
my word, that I was never in Made
moiselle Duveyrier's after dark."
[CONCLUDED NEXT WEEK.]
ONE IDEA.—An old lady who was
very thoughtful, but could not entertain
but one idea at the same time; once en
tered th,e church', , and .while walking up,
the aisle, discovered that her favorite eat,
had accompanied her. Agreably icithe
the first,impression of the discovery . she
said aloud, " Why pussy. where do you
think you are going!" Loolcitig up, and
recollecting that she was in the church,
she remarked;" there! I spoke right oat." .
Her attention was now arrested by 'the
smiles of the 'congreg ation. which, to
gether with the voice of her last remark,
inducted the.enleenation.".Why, la! I've
*Om",
,Ily.this time skeves fully. aware"
,of, the impropriety .orsuch a soliloquy,
and •torthWith exclaimed in evident coo.
sterriation, "why' hid .a :mercy, I'M talk
ing loud all time." • .
MDO eto