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4- jj ttlitttun-.&. - 6irtison; Vtitifietor4
z sefett -tYottrg,
WIN rER.
RI ZEE&
A light staunch King is Winter Old,
)I,j e stio in his might; .
'Dough Feats and years hive onward rolled,
'Ms glory still is bright.
p ro m his home near the northern star,
Elis cohorts sweep again,
Pleetiv rtisbes his icy car:
Over the drifting
The sparkling fmit gems deck -his crown,
Umlitneil by jaundimd gold;
Iliy dancing plumes Boat gently down,
Utemllied us of old.
snoay locks float wittily unt,
mingle With the gale,
His spotless tubes.along his route,
Are spread o'er hilt and vale.
ills baffle cry's the howling
An ice shaft forms his , spettr, -
...
pis banner broad i. , gaily twined,
With urea rea hs bright and clear.
Ilia lock,.are stern, vete and cold,
.When ou his 3earl race, .
But still 1 loe'c his bearing hold, —.
• When storms ;weep o'er his face.
Sub-lune srol fierce when . in his wrath,
Ile ts L res in the fight,
Rushing ou in his trackless path,
Unwearied -through the night.
old years may speed on tireless wing,
To "new years" giving: birth,
Sill this 4.44.1 brave and . danntkss king,
. Shall rule - o"er "Mother Earth."
Then hete's a health to Winter old,
King of the frosty star,
Wh o se white scarf wives its silv'ry fold
Over his icy car.
TUE PRESS.
The Sou Men Cris, the Northern Bear,
The troubling si'ters Pleiades,
The many spangled stars above,—
The ebb and flOw of pirple seas,—
The pulse of flowers that throb thro' Earth,
The lortiy sea:ong changing place,
And all that God_from Chaolt wrought,
Are but the toys of Time and Space !
The Mind. a Wider Orbit has. •
Than Sun, or. Moon, or Earth, or Mars
A Thuught can grasp Immensity,
•• And wring the sectets from the stas
The Elements are slaves to - Man • .
Ile links the hills, ite spans the
And he lists made the Thunderbolt,
tame and servile Mercury 1'
His hand has taken the shapeless ore,
And with a subtle
A little "Font of type" to bear
The impress of the de.atldess Mirid
Go forth a lime evangel,Thoughti
Let War's red; gonfalons bo -furled!
Go forth, and with thy teachings break
The manacles that bind the world!
Go forth with holy lips of peace!
Speak golden words of God and Deaths
And, like the goad Samaritan,
Pour oil upon the wounds of faith I
A pcean for the Printer Art?
The tOiling.l3rititi the ready Pen 1...
The band that. hulls the peerless cup
'Of Knowledge to the lips of
Visallautous.
REMORSE.
The temptest is .raging wildly around my
lonely dwelling. I can hear the mighty waves
roar as they rise one upon another to dash
furiously against the rocks, sending showers of
spray to mingle With- the driving - rain which
beats itgainst my windows. It is a pitiless
night—a nighttO draw round the fireside with
those who are near and dear to one, and to
gether to pray to heaven out of loving hearts
for those who are on , the broad seasat stitch a
- The more wild the scene without, the
wore strongly do the ; plbace and serenity of
home and home atfetwipna seem to . .epeal to
the.feelings,l'and truly this is ,a night to turn
thankfully with fond 'words and looks to the
+blessed calm of home. •
And how With me this nightl—the
miserable man who leta j ahone at Ilir ele ar l eo
hearth? - There are deep lino of care on my
lirow—my tiair is sileery,:irhite,aad faro not
yet fifty yeas of age. No lowing orevratehes
me ; no loving heart: 'heats for me; my lot'',
as lonely as it ib sr - retelied:- The wildest storm .
that win rageisealßeotnirtred 'With the storm
that mg,e4in my 6 :sow. The death agony of
!lose who - are thik night „tossing,ott the path
less ocean is, as nothing ooropared irtih,,the
lung life-agony 4,f may soul.
There are terrible %wives , kr me in these
waves—wild :reproaches, and -passionate oriel
that fiend; isrefeintelis to lifeatid yet the
voice that ailys so issouthfitl, and life should
beiitetious to 'the Wild angry eyes
Seem to be stories at Me through thosterimert
oftbestoraq. and yet,tinm awe 4 1 4111 me -
mitie lovingly once when I gaud upon her.
little ehiltteratlted in my anon. - Oh I that 1
could forget 'that time—that I waif banish
from my heait the Menial of childish Unmoor
love, childish:losolf trust ' childish
which won from me my misery end beguiled
me—wretch though I had been- 7 ioto happi
nem for a time.. Never again may one ray of
peace penetrate my despair; neveragrin may
one moment's calm still the tumult in my
breast; never again may I meet a trusting
glum% a fond word. Alone live, alone I sur
fer, and alone I must die, when at last the
springs of life give way under the pressure of
this terrible suffering.
1 have somewhere read that "remorse" is
the convaisive grasp of the mind on the re
treating purities of the past. It is well de
fined thus; for oneof the least endurable forms
of suffering which remorse bring" ,to the hu
man heart -is that vain yearning for the old
days and feelings of innocence which no time,
nso repentance can ever ;estore to the once sine
stained soul.
I can tell it becoase I have (oh it. I can
tell how there have been days when my cease=
Mess contemplation of my guilt awl its conse
quences has tortured me into paroxysms, after
which I almost fancied I had no power of suf.
fering le ft ; and yet when had laid down ex
hausted, uusting to gain forgetfulness in that
slumber which nothing but exhaustion ever
brings to me, and the slumber has come, with
it has come some voice, some niemofy, outof
childhood's home, and I, the careworn man,
hare started from my sleep, more agonized by
that old memory than by the constantly pre
-sent agony of brooding over my sin. • I have
heard my mother's voice at, these times, and
no spirit of evil could be so terrible, to me its .
the memory of that gentle mother whl little
dreamed of such a life as this for the child on
whom her looks rested with equal love and
pride. Would that her care and tenderness
had been leas?, Would that I had died then I
Ala"! mothers know not when they soothe.
their infants to rest, and still their innrmitrs
with marmus of love, how often they are pre
serving them for trial, for guilt, for unspeaka
ble misery I
I was an only child. I have little to . !ay of
my earlier life; its history, would be merely an
account of affection and care lavished by fond
parents on an idolized son, the one hope of their
proud family, the bearer of their ancient name.
These years I may pass over.
Unclouded sunshine streamed ire my path
until my niother died.„ 6 .l mourned her as sous
do sometimes mourn ?bat utterly irreparable
loss. Darkneta fell upon my home the day
she died. My father neverheld up his head
again;-sand on the day I became of age—
* day ofle ndly and proudly anticipated by
those who'rever lived to see it—l was an
•
orphan.
I do not mean to offer it as the slightest
extenuation of my crime that I was left alone,
unguided, master of a princely fortune, and
free to Make what use of it I pleased; and it
is a position of trial and temptation.
I believe I Ftssed well through the ordinary
trials of such a lot. Dissipation had no charms
for Me; and whilst I associated with many
whose tastes and pursuits were too often of a
class to be condemned and shunned, I can
sull look back on that period of my life with
out self-reproach.
Ainwngst my many acquaintances I had
one friend—one true friend. We trod been
at school 'and college together ; we bad tmv- .
sled together, and the tie between us seemed
drawn more closely by the fact that he also
stood alone in the world. lie had lost both
his parents in his childhOcd:
About three years after my father's death,
Henry Mortimer was again going to travel.
He wished me- to join him, but I declined.
Home seemed to have claims upon my time at
the moment. and - 1 resolved to devote myself
to the improvement of my estate and the
welfare of my tenautry.
Oae year elapsed • and Henry Mortimer
wtote to tell me be was married ; that he had
married an Italian, and intended returning
home immediately, His estate was situated
in a distant oonntY, and he asked me to go
there to overlook the necessary preparatiues
to the reception- of himself anu wife - at
home, and to meet. them there on their re
turn.
I,gladly repaired to Castle Mortimer at his
_request. I carefully followed his many di
rections with regard to beautifying the house
for his young bride's reception. I pleased my- .
self by devising tariotri arrangements in. the
gardens and grounds calculated io please her
eye and taste. I superintended the re
tonishing of her private suite of spat trnents,
which Mr. Mortimer had desired should be
done in the moss lavish manner. I Ives in
cessantly occupied in his service during the
'Lod period that was to elapse before his re
turn, And I have remembered since . that time
with bottle little surprise bow exclusively my
mind was filled with thoughts of bite and
his wishes, and how few thoughts even of a
natural curiosity traveled towards the com
panion be was bringing with him.
It was on a glorious summer evening that
they returned: Mortimer bad particularly
desired that *ere should be no detnonstm-
lion 4m3 her arrival from his tenantry, and I
awaited 'their coining riloae.
"Whilst 1 am writing times words, the tern.
pest is still roaring round my: dwelling —tbe
waves are still furiously dashink.against the
rocks—theism voice is borne by every blast
tovny saws atriN is raging still in toy
bosom, snd yet I can WV .sown my.hesd,
and closing my eyes I can lore for smoment
the mar of all pasta' thiags—the - waifare
of the world withost--the tortoni of thO-world
erithia; aad I ems standatistood dug sight,
sad feel as I felt that *lOO l WWI toy Ow
cm Ira :aid Os Ciaol4l:Morlialsr. I OM
WE ARE ALL EQUAL BEFORE GOD AND THE CONSICITUTION.".James Buchanan,
'Hintrest, Susipittanna Coantn, feinfa, purstrait 20, 1857.
see still the sunny smile with which she
greeted me as her husband's chosen friend.
I can hear still her joyous exclamations as
she gazed for the first time on the beauties
of her English home. -I can see still thecbild
like delight with which she paned from flower
to flower whilst slie exclaimed with indigna
tion against the false travelers who had
spoken of cold England, whose 'cheerless
breath could never tempt forth the fragrance
of a flower. I can see the glance with which
she turned to her fond husband a; be bade
her welceme :to her home; and I can tear
still the words with, which he told me that
until I found'a life•compattion I must make
C stle Mortimer my home, and thus com•
plete his happiness.
The influences of that evening aro on me
now. The red sunset is streaming on the
old trees of the park ; the breath of summer
is whispering among the leaves; the stillness
and beauty of the house rests on every
thing. I linger for one moment in that repose.
It is the closing hour of that 'portion of my
life which will bear dwelling upon. From
that scene in my memory I turn back to the
real scene' of the present hour. From that
peace and innocence to the guilt and woe
which so soon followed. ° -
I did make Castle Mottimer my home.
Mortimer was much occupied at first with
business matters, and I staid at his earnest
request to prevent Carlotta wearying of the
solitude in a strange country to which she
would otherwise have been consigned.
I do not intend to dwell upon these months.
I do not intend here to detail thieVteps which
insecsibly led to frighful crime. I could not
do so if I would. I know; not now how the
purest soul that ever was breathed upon by
[leaven became capable of admitting evil.
She was very young; she was - a child in
vests and inexperience. The-purity was the
purity of Nature, for she bad little or no re
ligious teaching. She was strargely untu
tored, save where nature had been her guide.
The man whom she had married was singu
larly ill-calculated to watch over and guard
her. Guileless and unsuspicious himself, he
:new no suspicion of others. I was to him
as a dear and trusted brother, and month
after month. passed away, and when he was
often coMpelled to leave horne on bu-iness
he congratulated himself on having* brother
to leave with Carious, who Might otherwise
have found even Castle Mortimer in its beau
ty a very solitary home.
I have said that I will not detail the steps
by which we p:Lssed on to destruction. It is
enough to say that when Mortimer returned
from an abscence of unwonted duration, it
was to find his home deserted, his wife
flithlesc, his friend a villain.
If I were willing to dwell on the scene and
events which immediately ensued, .1 doubt
whether my reader would believe that such
things could be.' I must hastily mention the
mere facts. I will not undergo the torture
of analyzing them.
- N i ire went abroad, resolved that no trace
should be left of our movements. One month,:
one little month passed'away.
Does the reader believe that it was a-rnonth
of guilty joy, where the voice of conscience
was drowned in the, tumult of passion i
It was a Month of most unutterable mi-ery. I
I speak not of my own sensations. I say not
whether my passion would not have silenced
my conscience, if her tnisery bad been less in
tense. But no words can describe the agony
of that young creature's mind. Helpless and
hopeless, tossed by ceaseless'despair, she refus
ed to be comforted ; and there were hours
during that month when I thought her sufler
itigs end in loss of reason. She never
once reproached me. She never once wish
ed that she had not left her home and hus
band. On the contrary, she said constantly
that she had no rig's to remain there in her
sinful state of feeling. She could not Ita6
deceived hint although she desered
But how piteously she- would express herself
iu wonder bow so sinful a passion could gain
entrance into her soull—how she would call
'on Heaven to direct her, and pardon her:—
and then. forgetting herself for the moment;
she would return to me, weeping bitterly, and
implore my pardon for her soirow.
One month passed. away. We were in
Italy. and"she entreated my permission to
sent herself from me for a . few days to revisit.
a Spot
_known to her in cbildbooci. I did
not yield willingly to her request. I cannot
now tell all that led me to grant it ; she ley
me, accompanied by an old and attached
nurse who had brought her up and followed
her to England. and whom she had insisted on
making the companion of her flight.: The
woman's presence enabled me to give the de
sired permission. I knew she loved ber as
her own child ; I' knew, that she waesafe with
her. 1 bade them .retorniri" - one week;. I
could net precisely ascertain their destine
tion,' but Ifancied that ,mnst be Carlotta's
early home, amd - that she would not revisit
that, with mfr. although she lodged to see it.
She left me—one long gaze—one passion
ate embrace—and she left me: I never - sew
her again. The week elapsed, and I received
a few blotted lines fit= her, telling me she
had rewired on leaving tee; hutsbe had no
courage to say.so f lest my entreaties, added
to those of heron, sinful beau, should'over
come her resolution. She said that she felt
that alie was the most sinful and most miser
able
. of, human beings, and that the future
411114 be one of ceaseless prayer - for pardon,
and - that it Ira only -_. in secret she dared to
ask it. She tcld me not to attempt to seek
ker. 'She sOd it:ovuld be useless Fthet her
nurse, Bianca, would remain with her, and I
must banish her from her memory. Silo was
dead tome, and all the world.
Nevertheless, I did seek her. I sought her
unceasingly for months. I resolved never to
leave the spot where we had parted; I felt
as if she could not be very far away. I fan
cied that &day must come when she would
wish to recall me; ber clinging nature would
make it utterly impassible fur her to dwell
alone.
I never found any trace of her. I never
ceased my search.
_I wandered in all direc
tions, and I ever returned to the spot . - There
she had left me, with a vague expectation of
finding her there again.
-Months passed away,- most miserable
months, during which I held companionship
with no one, and endured , mental suffering
which no language can describe. A change
came at last.
'Be still, mythrobbing heart! Why beat
so wildly for thine whose pulses were stilled
SC). long ago, Long years have come and
gone since that sunny day in Italy dawned
upon
.me. Why is the glare of its sunshine
dazzling my eyes now I Why stn I trem•
tiling. as with the agony of a new sorrow!
Why do I again seem to hear the words
Which told me alit Will the memories of
that day and hour never die away as all ho
.
man things else fade and die t
I said that my search was ceaseless, that I
never relaxed my. ecorts, and I said truly.
But I believe those whose minds have ever
been for a length of time strained to one pur
pose know that moments of lassitude come
when almost unconscious l y mind and body
give way, and one sinks down in languor until
some chord of memory is touched by the
dreams which that very languor invites, awd
one starts again to the full sense of memory,
the quick throbbing of the great agony. •
• . Such a pause had come in my search. I
was ill, I was weary. I had 'spent several
days in a kind of apathetic repose from which I
could nut rouse myself. I bad n one to
watch me, or attenipt to rouse me ; . I had not
seen a servant from amongst my own people;
I was surrounded by foieighers, and I believe
that I was regarded by _ them as strange even
to insanity.
The day had been oppressively hot, and_l
had not- quitted the house. Evening came
on—the soft breezes rose from the waters of
the glorious bay on which I gazed from the
shaded balcony of my room. The villa which
I occupied was beautifully situated. I bad
chosen it for Carlotta, ancl .ber presence was
still there in the few trifling articles—books
and music—Which she bad:used during her
short residence there ; her ,voice 'was ever
echoing there; but alas! it came..with tears
- and lamentations, for that room had wit
messed little else.
I gazed on the scene before me. I th'ought
of her—of her youth and beauty• - =of her suf
ife.ring and self-imposed penance. Oh ! how
I yearned to see her that night—once to
clasp her in my arms--once to implore her
fOrgiveness—once to tell her that. the crime
was mine onlynce to aitetnpt to soothe
the agony of her young spirit! I lost My
self. in thought of her. I . covered my face
with my hands, and I started when a step Le
i side me roused me-
.
1
Heavens!' what did_ I see! bianca stood
before me. her face streaming with tears, and
lin her arms she held air infant—a little in
-1 fant—which opened wide its innocent eyes,
andseemed to return the gaze of its tnost
: m father.
mr-erae tn .
I hardly knew 'how Bianca told Troy her
tale,. I know that from that niaht I forbade
her ever to mention Carlotta's name again. I
told her that I could not bear it and live—
and live I must for the sake of her child—of
our child.
Carlotta was dead-and her dying word•
b.tde Bianca seek me, and bring to my care
the infant she was leaving ntotherles;.. She .
won'd not, write. She told Biane.a she dared
not disturb - with earthly passion the cal.n that
was stealing over her riling hours; but she
bade her bear me her and perfect for
giveness; she bade her tell me she believed
Heaven had accepted her repentance, and
she bade her charge me to give our child the
tenderness and devotion which she had - not
dared to receive he:self.
And so she died —my victim and my idol.
That a very terrible time. Alone I had to
.wrestle with that prrow—no comfort—me
hope on any side. Her image came un
bidden before me as she was in her husband's
home in England—loved aird honored, so
hippy in her thoughtless innocence. Scene
a fter scene rose up before me in vivid colors,
till the fatal day came which changed her
from a careless child to a miserable woman.
She was before as she left me—and then its'-
.
agination saw her in her solitude; suffering
mentally and bodily, longing for my presence,
yet resolute not to yield to the desire of call
ing me to her side. Each word that Bianca
had uttered seemed to me the token of a scene
of suffering and seltdenial. She had told me
how she had longed to place her infant in my
micas, and yet how peremptorily he forbade
Bianca to seek me. She had told me how
she had wept over the unconscious infant,
and I felt that I knew sbe had sent murmur•
ed words of lose and tenderness' to 111411
through that innocent medium.
I sometimes felt as if I could not look on
that child ;• and then again my whole soul
seemed bnund tip in her, and I vowed to de
cote my life to hei happiness. It seethed the
onkyofering I could make to her wrouimi
I;moth,''.iceccory,aa4:licry w , lusucly I n*Av.
ed to fulfil the trust she:had committed to me.
Thence commenced a new trial of my ex
istence. I cannot say that at first lever found
anything approaching peace or consolation
in the task. I worshipped Carlotta's child,
but I never met her unconscious gaze without
fancying that there was raimething reproach
ful io it. I cradled her in my arms, I sur
rounded her with my care; ,shesoon welcom
ed me with a baby smile, and held out her
little arms to me; but although my life was
bound up in her life, and I could not. endure
her to be long. out of my sight, i still trem
bled as I gazed on her, and felt as if in her
sweet face I saw alt my guilt recorded.
Years passed, and this feeling gradually
lessoned as my idolatry for my child increas
ed. When she was first laid in my arms—a
little infant—bow I should have scorned any
one who had told me that a day would come
when even the memory of Carlotta and her
early grave would dim in the light of the
love that my child would bring to my tor
tured heart. Yet so it. was. There were still
hours and days . of remembrance when even
my child might not soothe me; but they be
came rarer as she grew older, and my heart
clung snore and more to her.
She was named Carlotta. Her mother bad
been beautiful—a fairy child-like beauty
which, hardly seemed to have attained its
height or developed its character when death
came to her—but her child was more incom
parably beautiful than any painter's or poet's
dream. She was more Italian than her Mother
had been, both in beauty and character. Her
large
,eyes flashed where her mother's had
melted, Her impulse.• were rapid and vehe
ment and instantly acted upon, where the
mother had turned for advice and support to
vvhomsoever was nearest toiler; gentle and
loving in her nature, as her child was impas
sioned and independent. "'often felt, whilst
.Carlotta grew up be-ide me, that when the
moment came that love entered .her soul, it
must be a decisive moment for the weal or
woe of her whole future life. ICo emotion
could come calmly to her—and so it proyed.
My child—my child—yrould that she had
died with her mother !
Carlotta's infancy and childhood was spent
in Italy. I formed my future plan of life
when she was brought to me. I. had sent in
structions to England that my estates should
he sold. I had changed my name, resolved
that no trace, of my existence should remain,
and I determined at that time when Carlotta
had passed tram her childhood I should re
turn to England and fix our borne in some
remote place where I never might meet again
with any one' whom I had kown in early"
life.
My forturne was very large. I knew that
I could surround Carlotta with every luxury
that taste could command, and after the in
terval of 'many years I trusted to being able
to make a home fur her in our oWn country,
unquestioned by any one ns to our family
friends.
I followed this plan. Carlotta was just
sixteen when we took possession of our home
in the South of England. Wealth can do all
things except bring peace to-the soul, and as
,I installed my child as mistress of my home,
I wearied myself, in' devising what I could
procure or add to its already faultless arrange
ments, to make it more worthy of her whom
1 loved so much.
It was with fear and trembling that Lapin
entered into society, from which. I had been
so long excluded. I felt confident of remain
, ing unrecognized, even if I were to meet any
acquaintance of former years. I knew well
how greatly I was changed,and I had chosen
a part of the country which was entirely
new to me, and where I had no friends in
early life. Still there were some whom I
shuddered at the bare possibility of meeting.
I knew that Mortimer lived; but-I also knew
he*, was a broken hearted man, and seldom
or never left his desolate home..
Carlotta entered eagerly into the society
which was opened to her, and as the heiress
of a very large fottune, and endowed with
rare beauty"aud talent, she was much sought,
and speedily - sutrounded by those who would
fain have been encouraged to try and win
her.
I bave said that I knew Carlotta's love
would come as an overwhelming passion.
Does my reader think that I have already
recorded
. sin and sorrow enough to fill one
life? lam now approaching the most terri
ble crisis of my life, the most fearful result
of my sin. •
•
The temptest - is raging still—that young
voice is heard above the storm.. How. can I
live amongst such -memories!
Carlotta loved. She was sought in mar
riage by the heir to an earldom. Little iired
she for "the wealth and honors that were laid
at her feet, but vhe loved him with - all the
passion of her nature, and •he seemed to nee
to merit her love ; but he bad still to be tried.
Ile came to ask ml child from - me. I could
not promise her hand :until I bad revealed
her history, and I told him my tale.
He was proud of 'his name and family, an
onsulied name; an ancient family. I await
ed his decision with apparent calmnese, bat I
felt that my child's life would hang upon it.
Ile left me. his proposals ,withdrawn. I
could not blame-him. I only
_requested him
noun see my child , again, to leave to me the
task of telling 'her to stifle her kive inks birth:
He promked, and there be
,left me.
I, aough . t Carlotta„ and I. bide her banish
hint from her mind.- I told-her he was -we
wirthy of her; was obliged to speak ?quo
it—l told' her this hisTiopexialr'lrs4
drawn. She gated at me in wonder, and . she
required me to tell het:" what had passed
between her loner and myself. I answered
her hesitatingly, and 'she sprang from her
place, and standing before me with flashing
eyes she told me she could never believeAfiat
he had acted in any way unwoithj Of . her,
and that she would submit to no Mystery on
a subject which involved her whole hippi
tiess.
I asked her if the stranger whom she bad
only known for a few weeks were more to be
trusted than the father who had tended 'her
whole life. - She wept passionately, but she
said she• knew there was a mystery, and 'she
insisted on knoiing if.
I did my best to calm her. I had ill-con
sidered my task; I knew not what to say: I
spoke of the pride 'Of hie family ; I spoke 'of
their ancient and unsullied name. Suddenly
she broke from me, and entreated that I would
leave her alone fors time; she said she
- could learn to bear it better in solitude; so I
left her, little thinking what her parpose . was.
I had never mentioned Bianca from the
time.that I said she brought my child to thy
arms; but she had never left her, .and' had
teen to the happy child RlCshe had been to
the unhappy mother, a faithful and attached
friend.
Something in my hesitating attempts to
explain what I dared not explain ' to Cull:Ate
—something in my allusion to a proud and
unsullied name and ancestry had excited her
qciick notice. Bianca was a garrulous old
woman, as most Italian nurses are and as I
spoke my child must have'recalled hints and
words unheededbefore,'spoken by her old
nurse, which, taken in connection with what
I said, made her inquire of herfelf for the first
time what her family wai r —why we had no
family ties as-other:people had.•
Quick suspicion aroused, she sought Bian
ca, and as I heard afterwards, insisted in her
most vehement manner on knowing all that
her nurse could tell of her ;mulls. Bianca is
now terrified ; but Carlotta knew how to gain
her ends. She coaxed and. she threatened;
she felt assured that there was some mystery,
though of what nature she never could have
guessed ;—and she was confirmed in her res
olution to learn what it was by Bianca's evi
dent embarrassment and terrorlest she should
come to me.
I sat alone in my room for an hour after I
had left Carlotta, • I felt anxious and misera
ble. I know not how inquiries were to be set
at rest. I should hare foreseen suelt a wretch
ed state of things; I should never: have bret
her to England. These were my thoughts
when the door opened and Callous stood
before me.
She was pale as death, her eyes distended
and fixed, and her lips colorless.
I must draw a veil onlle scene that fol
lowed. • Could it , be my. gentle Carlotta's
child who overwhelmed her wretched father
with wild passionate reproaches—who asked
him with heart-rending cries, ' why he' had
not let her die in her infancy—why be had
nurtured her with care, and mocked her with
tenderness, that she might live only to learn
her shame, and have her heart broken !
Could it be my gentle Carlotta's child whO
spoke thus, and under whose torrent of re
proach I bowed myself down, a crushed arid
miserable wretch, where hitherto—blessed in
her ignorance—l had beet' a loved and hon.
•
ored father
She quitted the room, trembling with her
wild passion. maddened by her anguish.
Reader—l saw her once again. That same
night heavy steps and -stow, approached, "my
door. I had never moved during thee hours
which had elapsed since she left me. I heard
those steps—l heard whispering voices—l
heard Bianca shriek—l beard the word
".drowned !"
Power came with my agony, and I rushed
to the door.. r threw it open -whilst they
were consulting together how they dared. to
reveallas loss to the d6oted fetler. X saw
her. The flashing eyes were closed now ; the
masses of raven hair hung wet and heavy
around her form, her quick pulses 'never beat
,
again 1 •
Long years have passed since that aWful
night. I have chosen my home far from those
scenes. It is a solitary seashore. •
I have suffered here alone. I shalt die
here alone. Rage on, fierce tempest)—dash
on wild waves 1 -Years verrterrible in your
Might and fury ; but more • terrible still is
,•
the might of the guilty mall's MOM.-
lets perk Corresgdatitte.
N!,..w You., Jan.
_24; 1857.
Mews. Editors :
It would be a ridiculous thing
to assert that there is no noire in Grethen;
for. since I last wrote an event has occnned,
which would hare thrown any other northern
city into consternation and set the entire pop-.
ulatiortitlunking of death and destruction,
but which no mote affected' the self-satisfied,
complacency of the, New Yorkers, than a
horsefly would disturb the. equanimity, of a
rhinoceros. This. strange *rept nothing
less than tbeshock of an earthquakey which .
Was distinctl,y felt in this ciiy< on the: after
noon of Pri4y, Jnnuary sth. Try it a**
very !..ril?list!but than.U* 46 W;
beginning.* sort' of ksby_earthquOlte. - outl
al
though thoCusuinii Itouso!to# the City -it'll
are firm on their Peri'ond the Bt;riolti
91 1 1 tis attar on 4 41. , Inf O l kt 4 2 .4 h e re.
eirni thAt 1
,4 i t *i§filffifr?,.oo3!
bled Into, the, streie. pat4r*„votaailis,
C° 0 9 101(4 . fir# ott rahiT'aut, first
attempt at an eirilapiake itas - pot aisliwt..
plant success; still :it was .Pl:4-'
and disgriceful•failtire, ii . was;m44:.4s,
e
um
eerY- reePeete!)lePerk#Pl.2,44o4'; p
...1: ' .
not be lightly sliolse,n,Ot ' wli . bill",'
atones TiblrP *is, raise fige! tiring Otl4l_,i,li-.P;T:-
plea, and other
.'produ c ers Cotigenitfiect i rixii!6, o . _
sunny latitudek aid t Ike no masfitfithrivlr
may net with proper careend",atfot:!tlVMlt
our own earth4ualtes: Y,,ste.,Orrily r mshltm o - -
our.minds to lay Out.,cter 147TIfilttivt64:fir'.
duction of tropical idi s triti *. yo!..lrsy
~0 s!-!!-:: :
Slued that. we shill ; ma d rnMistAres*ntito4
all skeptical creation. . . ; ," We'll `ltt4e.,,sinititele ;
mitte.nt volcano'wheve 011141.J!!!rft107
, t - -
stands with.a fiery stream - riittnikt-44 10 .04.
length of Biciaclwai t auttiMriptylag- p inyf 1
'bay at Castle - crardnii, then welt, - e!tbliiiier -
line of fire-proof, feiryb6losll2):ll3Stircdfil
the street to the other;aind''aieiet;lo l t r t'••
-through the second-iitOry window! ?
~.;,, ,..r.. - -. : 3, ~
Seriously, a slight'shock. OfOen:4qt+
was felt in thenpper eirdintainiti 'On ill;
day before-naMedlif this letter, andacid 41_1;
habitants were greatlY istOrrisliedilietits4r--
The: illustrieus stranger'''Xidl‘,i,faii,447,,
strayed away from hems, at d , re J 3 ,7 4.111,f;!1:01 .
safe in the sou th ern latitude s . gottermlijaa
done but' the eurioue.ndetirren4'Cidifett s'..
good - deal of talk andacime little ttawitpapite .
comment.., . _
There seems a slight prospects `of ''nfemn! _
here. The icehati so blocked f t eptne - . 1
navigation-that the ... Supply of Virginia-nr-_ _ -
tars has been sometimes cut off. and Voting
New fork - has.been put °every_ short allow
ance. The crowds of business men444151_
who are down toviti..lall. days; r - , - 4441 , T 1
thing eat Crites in_the middle of did -11440
s' lunch" and uncounted multitudes: are dew'
voured every evening of 'courser:l'lk, (a';
cut off in a measure the " feed," of so c tamet s
proportiotvef, , the popolatioa ita-keviierhims
business. - As it' is -,thsrdoiovirice iniangi
ble Jack Frost, Wire. iapet a , piThap to be col
tared and cuffed and kie* als - : !lii i dAeries;-
the evil Must be _ Jo ne °anddtlic 'ao pre".
pective revenge to — naitigate• the difficulty;
but if any public officer, or any flesh. tad
blood man with nerves to feel, $: bilitiva 6-
punched and arms'_ and legs, to get4.fin i ld t 4
was responsible for:' the tient:A.4 the,mob
would put him to - death- in • fivertnirliterret .
am rather-of the - opinion ==that, they would
crucify him or chop hirointo-AtausigoiefMtt-. 3
with their jacknives, but if it:chanced tsifsi
an unusually merciful and tender4i4aftel, '
mob they might iontem.themselvs irritkiitt;' , ,
ing ikall . his._, ribs, and tben''bnnging : .., the ll , 1
to a lamplcst. • Under preitant - eirestmstim 'all :
it takes three "stew& for - a dinner,
,ind:it •
"'fry" has. dwindled to - four . small Oysters .
cooked in a profusion of corn meal:_:'," tome.-
thing must be done, and I am not, sure tut_,
the New Yorker will repeat, the - esPitinienta
lately triediu Paris.; end learn-"to apPriciate
horse-flesh and Tule 'meat., '..lt may nok,b,
manydays before Gothamites will -say Grass! .
over a breakfast of porker'Ssteakkand retttri
thanks for a good dinner.of hone-somix-sodmi -
.
roast - from the delicate part of
,a mare% foie. -
shoulder. - ---- --- - '
A very' sudden tleith occurred the
other night at a"titne and wherti . diith
would naturally be the but thing'thouglliV,"
and would seem to be particularly'
come and inappropriate.' 14"
Fredericks while claiming it
Ball in Natioiral Hall , in Foley " Courth ` etieet,
was taken suddenly ill and illedr:"befori - 'idits
could be taken froirr Ow, Wit°.'`A . eiitilte
incident occurred here- last
young man was officiating . 11 . -iiirie . -ifltke
Managers of a Ball at the Citi)ftliejlibly
Rooms, was taken sick at refreshment'
.isOw,
and died in his chair His
ter were: both present;'
-
The policemen of the' Paurth-- an glith
wards made a grand - Meral - derrionstottott
one night last wee d by: it
movement made-a dwice upon ome - of this
. •
rum-holes in their respective vicinities. - 'm
expedition resulted in the - eaptati fixity
fou r thievei of the - thoSt'desperate et,Ltlikr.
They 'were not mere pialt*lteta Nher,*
.‘*-
plish their work. by alight.of h,na
terity, but . " gorrooctl,":
men of that ohne who treed: :gangs‘' and
use brute force to, rob people.. Ttim wife
not probably, half a dozitivicr Ithal;feihole- ,
lot,
who *oat 601 %14-to- - comm_ it- murder- if
thel' was any sballSe of _making , tnea.y47,,
it,. They were arrested gm- thit'oceasiowler.
no specified
-crime, but on- aocirtitf: ettlift: -
known bad- (tharSPtert Aiset ybOicalboisi-toio
ing known,tO Ole police - 4s .de.speradi
They were kept the station.hodslit :swee
night, and in the.-mornittA
Mayor's ofile4isid ?Al' pin lip * AO`- th
fens that they might kpa" Abarn
and that the police , of otherwatilitmtight
have ° P lm q ui T t r - Aff- b l 4l4 NOMPliinihr -
with theitPettititel-4007-2---914!im
reijache!grgekkin dim
were Palnuo44 and AA effort )01*-.1401004
oeug,, them ,10 t64,_414 14*-;0447z,414*11!--
gragracts: -I4ificio r lorkfAi!,#w -
15 . 1 m ni ;. 1 00 11 ,.ak**4.iov.00!.1**:-:
mischief fcifis :fuw .
In thel*PY 1 10 0 Agi
# lO 4- 4 400,
tons ilut"4ol.Akart9ol4*-As**z-;:
41 1 * --7,1.0
7,,,T,!istEAlkVlfistito.l.4#44o44oo-'-
N 41150.4 ,AIR4OII-40'_:.---
pe!ffrtv . #l . 414*.......-c*illooko*,!..;:
Thttle:sa,'4l4 - 27.4.1-;
OMMI;13