*A:ittntplko!ift,iiii AND PROPRIETOR V 0 L. X Rill-44C , : ..4 1i I, ;1.:Italti08 . 11 '1! •IrsilA. 1 wool ly/4,00t sossenames-sight, liiiiii 4hosk my years were lbw, • iiihi.iiiiii l Was ilWeint in the light,. /tad Verse. slinging too; • , .., .Threinsidne biy upon the hill, The *Mow In the vale, ' And here and there a leaping rill .Wes busgidng cm the gale. , , ' , one desey Cloud upon the air Was all that met my eyes ; It dented Wm an Easel there Witwornine and the skies; I clapped my hand and warbled wild, ..- AI: eta and there I flew, • lot . Itweelni a •Candese child - ' -And did chilblain Am . • The wavier dancing o'er the sea • In brighhand glittering bands; Litire ated children, wild with glee, their 'dimpled hands— They ' • ' th eirhantli,but. ere I caught '''Their sprinkled drops of dew, They kissed my feet, and, quick as thought, Away the ripples flew. The twilight hours, like birds, new by, At lightly and as free ; ' Ten thousands shoo were in the sky, Ten thousand on the sea • recovery wave with dimpl ed face, • That leaped upon the sur, Had coughs a star in its elbrace And held it trembling.there. • Tire young moon too with upturned aides Her mirrored beauty gave, - And, as • bash at anchor rides, She rode upon the wave; . The sea was like the heaven above, As perbsct and as whole, Savo that it seemed tothrill with love As . thrills the immortal soul The leaves, by spirit voices stirred, Made murmurs on the air, . Low Stunners, that my spirit heard And answered with a prayer ; rut 't was hpirit that dewy sod, Beside the moaning seas, ' I learned at Orfila worshp God And sing such strains as these. The flowers, all folded to their dreams " . Were bowed in slumber free El? Milky hills ind murmuring streams, Where'er they chanced to be ; No guilty tears had they to weep, No sins to be forgiven ; They closed their leaves sad went to sleep 'Meath the blue eye of heaven. • Nweestly robes upon them shone, No jewels from the sena. Yet Solomon, upon his throne, Wu ne'er arrayed like these; And juot is free from guilt end art - Were lovely human flowers, Ere sorrow sat her bleeding heart On this fair c ;rid of ours. I heard the laughing wind , behind .. ,- - - A-playing with my hair ; • The breezy fingers. of the wind— .., Now cool and moist they we e ! ' I heard the night-hint warbling o'er Its boll enchanting strain ; I never hoard such sounds before. , Then wherefore weave such strains as these . ' And sing them day by day, When every bird upon the breete Can singe sweeter lay ! I'ti irive-the world for their sweet art, T. Wan ple, the divine-- I'd give the world to melt one heart As the" have melted mine. From the Homo Journal A LETTER FROM THE WEST. [God bir praised for the variety of human being whose qatursi isugusge is such as we find in the Ifilloitimiletter CINCINICITT, 1841. ORPrrtICIIEN:-h good faith, halve you bat entitely forgotten met Well. a year has mellowed my spirit only as the sunshine mellows the fruit, end I am a little older, a little wiser, a lide stead ier, hut not avbit less happy than when I .1 romped among the beautiful wilds of my lowa home. Let those who will lament she days that are gone, but I have yet a sunny present, and, at all events, to lament a joy is to make a grief. My days are not unhappy now, for obstacles in life are ma i in isfortunes, nor disappointments griefs, au the.atrong and magenta spirit. When I was vet a little girl, and long frocks were a &mat : among the bright things yet to gladdso, my future, I delighted when I raMbled to surprise an old log or big stone in my path, for the mere fun of leaping over it, and I immure you few, could hum ble me in that sport. And so it is now. Not a nitilitl.lhe obstacles of life trouble me, not they—but I take a long run, give a Airco= bound. and away go I and laugh ever them. To be sure I have not yet met l . with a traable, but till such accidents cc our, I shall rather be pleased than otherwise , 40 overtake and overcome the obstacles— sad wheal do get a fall,shall doubtless pick inp @myself and *pm as of old. and with smiles sod hearty rubbing obliterate all trams ethijilitirk Maiden& That is a eery happy aphis, is lima-- 4 o r aillik lo the theaght that this spirit may toptalwapp be atlas. Yet whew age shall irweijm warmth, and brietite eloads to te; the sunshine in my - heart; I hope to.lispo y., /nithout humoring that intack:niod 1 1 v Wgit - 4 , . woulditenarallY prevent a Miss ; dos,thnon from saying so, a few little be- 1 imp oreasd me, la whose love mid rosy 14iicifaiLlisvi may he daily freshened, till :silamtjhotAhall only he, youth in golden If ‘,,Oh, boar I will love those Ides. 01101,.. ' ,mt.the chais then bindles me to 041 ` VI onytheiagoflove--my whole vidq , ll* 14.440000v0 1 00tty, for I love every .4.ol,ll'olllOrytildog. and recognize the figs booth for Itove. ALI, this or on a ven7 Onto at place at least, he diatom& thadethaissomo perfectly Para rdillillasAtellaillaMlFAlginit orlon mid pm slintilitbnaMontanani'which we all have, h at.111114A014,14 1 1 hair. playful lightning, lw=itadltZuditster about do beans Mut aeocoling .ita 'attributes ,of fhnisitys sod Alot assatervei of the past : 460 7 18 llasdialiaa Abe Plemurable, and the jfestfoloosgme of the haute, ever bright, iliag Othemnihres WO the mind, and. like the iMitstitf4donuostevery little nerve dam deoriblilleting ihe brain with delight. :Is alp& *in& Limes, the world truly a lovely beautified sad perfumed by the Mites of limey, and refreshed by founts AC; . m feeling! When the mind is ;in ''' • 4 „ , state. the soul expands to AW ,and • 7 k y inflamices as the opening itithe dews of heaven; and being ' 1 ill battiony with the good and pure of satire. like Nature's Gad, is tilled with tic.4.4r 4 = one 01 times w i th whowa tltalcny that there i l lO Yetthereare s Jaw ii) tkiis world! A writer of posthu- mous fame asks--- . A 4 Where is love?" And a fair young being at my 'side, in whom love might delight echoes, , f Where is love?" Ab, where is it not? There are dark moments, indeed, in every one's history, when the heart seems filled with hate, and we feel at enmity pith man, the world, and, worse than alfrwith ourselves. But when In the happy state of the good man, or of the man in his good moments, we are all love—and we are so because our minds and hearts glow with the pure fer vor of poetry ; and, wherever there is poe try, whether in ourselves abstractedly, or in ourselves as reflected from outward na ture, there is. there must be toys. Poetry may-be the cause, but love is the invaria ble effect. The former may be the quiv ering strings stirred by the winds of heav en, but thp latter in represented in the /Bohan sounds to which. the .chords give birth. We all know therii are certain del icate feelings interwoven with the fibres of the heart and brain, whiCh, set to vibrating, the whole being quivers with emotion. Out ward objects, or even inward thoughts, may operate to affect this rippling of the feelings, for but a breath of poetry will prove the fairy breeze—yet it is with the succeeding emotion that the soul bends in love. 'Love is not always preceded by the spi rit of poetry, but poetry, I only mean to say, is always followed by that of love.— Whore then is poetry to be found T It glows in the heart, as the brain-god creates its fairy worlds, and peoples them with its spirits fair and bright, and comm ands the light of day to illuminate, and beautiful im agery,,to bring forth and multiply. It exists in the heart when the beauties of harmoni ous nature peer into its depths, and with their soft glances mellow and purify into holiness. °The world is full of poetry—the air Is living with its spirit; and the waves Dance to the music of its Ineludies, And spaikle in its brightness. Earth is veiled And mantled with its beauty; and the wails . . That close the universe with crystal in, Are eloquent with voices that proclaim The unseen glories of immensity." It is breathed in the mottling air, as the upheaving sea upon his shoulders lifts night from the earth, and the rejoicings of winged songsters mingles with the dew and sunshine, and God smiles in a. wakening Mature. It trembles in the sun set, as the last rays of the day-god are flung in golden showers upon wave and foliage, arid cloud is piled upon cloud till. the heavens are filled with mountains of gold, and the omnipotence of the Omnipo tent is spread like his glory over the earth and the great deep and in the skies. It re poses in the solitude ofnight, when the peace of he teen sleeps on mountain and moor; and the moon - with her silvery hosts, stalks in the sileUre and grandeur of majesty.— It is reflected in the lovey . wherever it is rtAealettwbahetr the, %Inv Onweret u id tts petals tilted Irbil% tne •o•er.snauoweo lights mid shades of modest beauty by the fingers of the wind—or in the comming ling graces, snatched from heaven and earth, developing the beautiful woman.— And found— a misteriouv feeling, which combines Man-with the world around him, in a chain Woven in flowers, and dipt in 'wanness, tall He taste the high communion of his thoughts With all existene& in earth and heaven, That meet him in the charm of vice and power." That "mrterions feeling" is love. Fil- led with it, the heart expands till a world is embraced—then in its own divinity is shadowed forth, and it is likened unto God, for "God is love." But my enthusiasm has overrun my pre scribed limits, audi will forthwith hold my tongue, even though it be warmed like my heart with lore. If my long neglect be forgiven, and neglect in a prosy writer is scarcely an offence, you. shall hear again front Luau LINSEY. INTREPID CONDUCT OF • Ltril,E GIRL. —we learn from the Boston Advertiser that on Monday afternoon as the children of Col. Thompson and Captain Alden Gifford were playing oh the banks of the canal, in Woburn Centre, a little daughter. of Col Thompson, six years old, fell into the ca nal, when Isabella, the daughter of Capt. Gifford, immediately jumped in to save her little playmate. She seized her, but at the moment both got into deeper water, and their situation became extremely perilous yet the courageous Isabella strove vigorous ly to keep her companion's heat above water. Both Would probably have been drowded, had hot the outcries of Capt. Gif ford's son George, six years of age, brought to their assistance Mr. Atherton, who was working in a shop not far distant. The little boy was shouting to his sister to save her companion. Both children were near. ly exhausted when taken ont, and habilia was nearly speechless for some time. Air American countrymsin, fresh from the augafficent woods and rough clearings, was one day visiting the owner of a beauti. ful seat is Brooklyn, end walking with him through a litde grove, out of which all the under brush had been cleared. 'paths had been nieelyent and gravelled, and the rocks covered with woodbine, suddenly stopped, and, admiring the beauty of the scene, lift ed up his hands and exclaimed, "This I like; this is Nature with her hair combed," Vire NAT veitt.,-DuriNg the •perform. , anco of the 4allan Oper4,ln Philadelphia, teat Week, and in the midst of one of the most touchingly interesting passages of the graceful and bewitching . Dlorma, Timm stepped quickly and,pauionately to the footlight, and said, something , with so much errnestness 'that itpooi follow in the , par. quette started up and exclaimed: understand you meant!, eta ff siou want any Adp, I'm here!" The magnificent prima donna joined io the laugh caused by this queer, sally: --Bulletin. . tradesman in Bath hal toUowing printed on his shop-bills:— "My books are so crannied, and bed debts, rso so many, I'm resolved that in future,l'll not trust a penny. Giving credit to friends tlr Wort . dolde endan- Sere: And I hope ne'er again to be cheated by atrangeri." SETTING A fIAN•TRAF-i8 the title given to a picture of a very pretty young lady arranging her curls at a mirror. GETTYSBURG, PA FRIDAY EVENING ) , SEPTEMBER 3 1847, [Prom the Home Journal. THE LAST MELODY. The Emperor Alexander was dead.— His next brother, the Grand-Duke Con atantine, was the natural successor to the throne of ftuasia, but, by a deed, till then kept almost, Constantine, in Alexander's lifetime had renounced his claim to the throne in fitior of his younger brother, the present/Emperor Nicholas. The seces sion of4he latter to the throne, on the death of Alexander, hot einlfekeited general sur prise, but en unsettled feeling soon mani fested itself amongst the people and the ar my. The time appeared favorable for the breaking out of a . conspiracy ihatinitTbeen forming for several years; and an insur rection took place at St. Petersburg, on Christmas slay, 1825; but the movement of the conspirators was too hasty, and, their attempt not being well seconded by the troops, failed. One hundred and thirty-six leaders of the rebellion were sezed, tried, and con demned ; and almost all of them were sen tenced to perpetual labor, or to exile in Si beria. The five principal chief. were con demned to be broken on the wheel, but did not undergo that punishment, the gib bet being substituted by in ukase of the Emperor. Among these five chiefs, the first and most remarkable was Paul Pestel, Colonel of the infantry regiment of Wiatka. The long and arduous task to which he had devoted himself had not wholly en grossed the mind of this brave and perse vering conspirator. Alive to the charms of the arts, he cultivated them with success, and, in particular, he was an excellent mu sician. The young and beautiful Catbarine W- had conceived a devoted attach ment to Pestel. Gifted with an esquisito voice, she loved to sing his melodies, The passion with w Web she inspired him was equally fervent as her own ; and if ever the brave ,conspirator • could•' forget his gloomy reveries, it was, when he was seated by Catharine's side, and dreaming ot love and happiness. On the eve of the day when the iriiiiir rection was to break out, Peatel, more ab sorbed than usual,_ scarcely answered Catharine when she spoke to him, and at times seemed not to hear her. "What ails you today, Paul?" she said, taking his hand, "you do not look at me—you do not speak to me as usual., 1 never saw you so cold, so absent, when you were with me before." l'estel looked at her sadly. "What would you do, Catharine, were you never to see ine . again ?". "I siMuld die !" said Catharine, with enthusiasm, and the. added in a voice of terror, ---sookan tid..:tinillll4 raul, you cannot tll for "•8 • l'estel was silent. "It cannot be," said Catharine; "you have sworn to love me till death." "Yes, Catharine, while this heart beats it is yours. But," (embracing her with ardent but melancholy tenderness) he ad ded, "promise me, Catharine,-if I die that you will live, for the sake of your old father, and that, even when J'm dead, I shall never cease to occupy your thoughts." "I promise you to live as long as my grief will allow me. But, Paul, it is not I who shall have to undergo this cruel trial." "There are presentiments. Catherine, which I cannot mistake 1" said Pestel, de clining his head on his breast ; "an inward monitor warns me that! must abandon my two visions of happiness—the bliss of liv ing in the enjoyment of yourlove.Cath arine, and the glory of securing the free dom and independence of my country." "What do yott mean T" said Catharine, whose fear and agitation increased every moment, "what mean these mysterious words, these gloomy predictions f Paul, you are concealing a secret front me." "yes, Catharine." "A secret from me, Paul, who have never kept one from you !" ..You have had all mine—but this does not belong to me." - " "Alas! if I imagined fromyour looks, your words, your thoughts of death and parting, it must be something very terri ble !" "It is teriblelndeed!" After a moment's silence, Pestel condo u ed, "Hear me Catharine : when t give you my parting kiss this morning, it may per haps be the last you will ever receive from me. But, whatever may be my lot, if you are told, "Paul is dead:' came, and you shall find a remembrance of me for you ! for I swear .to you, Catharine, my last thought shall be of You." Peelers presentiment did not deceive ' him I He saw her no more. The . day of the execution of his sen tence. a young fetnale, bathed in tears, ob tained permiesion to visit his cell. It was Catharine. After' a long search, she dis covered Some linesCof music pencilled on the wall: .tbove them there was only two words, "Post 'Haiti' Underneath was Paul's name. . , Two years after a poor maniac died in a Need& aeylam, whose madness consisted in singing, every'ay atthe same hour, the same little melody that was pencilled on the wall of the cell. The poor maniacs Avsa Cathstine4—and the air she sang Wes --The /mei melody of Pettiti. "If you bad avoided rum," said a wealthy though not intellig ent grocer to hi, intern. Perate ikeighber, riiir. early habits of in dustry and intelleotualabilities winild have placed you in any ttatiun, andyou would now ride in your own carriage." "And if ybu had' never sold rum for me to buy." replied the bacchanal."you would have been my driver." . A NMIrSVIICIZE OF HAPPINSISS.-k pert son' writing. from Veis Cruz says, "the emits from our mortars, bursted in every direction. within the city, and it is fair to presume that the round shot from our bat teries had an equally happy eff eel. There is a boy out %Vest said to be so bright that his father uses him as a look ing glass to shave by. .FEARLZSD : AND PREZ." TEE STAR GP GLENGARRY. Tie red loot& la. up eta, {Ls MOM covered mom- • - The how is it hanfiatets I pronged to rove With the tortetattent daughter, o'er Logartie bright water,. • And tell her how Maly her Donald can love. I ken there's the milier.torr. plenty sWer, Would fain win a glance from be beautiful e'e; But my tin bonny Mars...tho star of Glengarry, Keep a' her sweet sidles and soft kisses for mi. fang sin we first hod the highlandi egithes, Twa frolicsome bairns gaily starting the deer, When I ea'd her my lite r uty bonny wee wife, And ne'er knew sic Was when Mary wee near; And still she'. the blowout Pd wear in my bosom. The blossom ettnrieh and wear till I dee, For myttin bonny. Matl . l, the mar of GleagertY. filte`s health and oliirowoolth, and ahem e . good to me. THE TEMTERS AND THE TEMPTED DI CAIIIIINA T017131}11 CHAPTER I. It was an exceedingly cdtnfortable di ping -roods in an comrciritibli house. The montOral January, and the air was so clear andfroity, that every step which passed sweated to ring upon the pavement. Thick warm curtains, howev er, excluded all drsilitglit and the brightest of fires blazed in the polished - grate ; while the clear light of a pendant lampshone up= on the desert of chnittiuts, in their snowy napkin, and golden oranges.' Amber and ruddy-tinted wines 'Sparkled through the rich glass which hid held them ; but the "comfortable" party were only a trio—Mt'. and Mrs. Dixon and their son. Th t ey were people whom ifte world had used ve ry kindly, who never had a reatirauble in ' their lives. No doubt they. had imagined a few ; and imaginary sorrows differ from real ones, I believe, chiefly in this--that they teach nothing, unless, indeed, their in-' dulgenee teach and strengthen selfishness. Mr. Dixon was a fine looking man, of about fifty. with rather a pleasing expres sion of countenance. He was often visi ted by good, kind impeller', but a certain indecision of character had made him Ml under the rule of his partner early in their married life; and the instances, during twenty-five years, in which his bestinoli- - nations had been cheeked. were beycmitall numbering. The lady, who was about five years his junior, bore every trace of hav ing been a pretty woman, though on the petit scale. Yet there were people who did not like her race ; and certainly bright as her eyes were , they put you , in mind of March sunshine, with an east wind blow ing all the time. Her lips were thin, and she had a trink of smiling, and showing her white teeth very often, even , when she said the-most disagreeable things. Rich ard Dixon, the son, bore a strong resem blance to his mother; though, if tho mouth were aturf il. z . - h ;r. bentiment - - "This is a very serious charge, my dear," said Mr. Dixon, putting down the glass he had raised half-way to his lips •are you sure there is no mistake 1" "Quite sure," replied the lady--"quite certain Mary mast have taken it. I put the piece of lace at the top of the drawer, and the key was never out of my posses. sion, except when I entrusted it to her." "We never had a servant I should so little have suspected," returned Mr. Dix on. .Nor I either,"' said the son ; and she is, out and out, the best housemaid we ev er had—at least the hest that ever has been willing to stay." Truth always hits hard, and the color rose to Mrs. Dixon's cheek. She was one of those ladies who cannot "keep their servants." "Then bad is the best lam sure," she exclaimed angrily ; ""and for my part f am very glad she is going." “And I am very-sorry,” said the bus band. But why did you not tell me a month ago that you had given her warning, in stead of leaving it in this way to the last moment ?" "Itcally I cannot see, Mr. Dixenr what you hare to do with these arrangements. I mention die circumstance now. because the girl -is leaving to night. anti because you will see a strange lace to-morrow, and would wish to know all about it." "But what did she say, when you accu sed her of theft!" "Accused her ! You don't supposed I should have done such a foolish thing. A pretty scene there would have been. 1 know the fact, and that is en ough: you don't believe I should have got back the lace do you t" "But justice, my dear, justice ; surely you should tell her-your suspicions." "Oh ! now that 1 have engaged another servantnow 'that she is, going, you can tell her if you like. But I don't see, my !elf, what use it is. She is sure to deny it, and ,then there will be a seene—and I hate such scenes as much as you do." At that moment there was a slight tap of the parlor door, and obedient to the "come in" of Mr. Dixon, dui discarded Mary entered. She was a genteel look ing girl, of ;bout, twenty, attired in a dark cloak and straw bonnet. She came to take a dutiful leave of the familY, and to ask ; a question which seemed not to have occured to the party before. engaging herself with anuture mistrees and refer ring to Mrs. Dixon for, .a ftharseter," what was phe to give as a reason that she was discharged. So innocent, so interesting did• Mary look, the tear, starting na,her• eyes st •the thought of leaving the home of many months, and her ohesk slightly, flushed-- that •neither of the gentlemen =aid be:, lieve her guilty. But Mrs..Dizon* was , in the , habit of engagingand discharging about a dozen servants a year, of one sort or an other, and , was quite hardened against "ap pearances," Mr. Dixon evaded an immediate answer to Mary's question, by asking her whither she was going. "I am going into a lodging, sir." "That is a pity ; have you no friends to stay with t" "My friends are all in Wiltshire," said the girl, with a sigh ; "and besides that, it would cost me a great deal of money to' go to them. I would rather look out for a I place than make a holiday." , as Veer Nam wbfeh 'oteiii daiti ere quite right, I imiliettet * ,isiti .1114;;Dhtr , on,,rith s i n ketliargly, that 'wit,itittaaehal to dose the eettfereitee. • , " /Quite right. than k , you, malim," plied Mary, With a curtsey r ' , bin, if ymt please, when I go . after: a *hie shall I say was , the reason you disebarged met" should think your owti rionsolence must tell you," replied the lady, smooth: ing her braided hatraftth her hand; as she had a trick of doing, when she was grow.; lug envy. Poor Mary turned pale tit' these words. indefinite. as they were, and couhl hardly nntrantr, snail me, ohi — teltiner,- - witat - hr it I have done 1" Her change of color was to Mrs:Dixon evidence of her wilt; and with a sort -of horrible satisfaction at this proof (to her) that she was right, the lady charged the poor girl with the shell, which bad just mentioned to her Itutsbao It, was, indeed, a scene which follow,a, very pidoeS one. Mari uttered hut,a few words of brief and emphatic denial—far_ vem u y,ed from the loud asseverations which' the , guilty can sometimes deliver. 'rears ' seemed driven , back to her...heart; and as ehe stood fur .a moment with clasped bands and rigid features. she looked like a statue of woe,....lllishaidDixon washy, no means unmoved. - . . lie had hie own pa sony,for believing her a girl of good priti. ciples. Like many others-snare thought. less, perhaps, than heartless—young men. be never disguised his admiration of beauty to the object, even if the revealing it bordered on insult. And he remember ed that Mary had always received his idle compliments with a dignity that tepettea further rudeness, and ; with p deportment that he should have had adthired in a sis ter. lie placed a,chair near Mary and begged her to be seated..; bot absorbed in her own misery, she took 00, notice,of the attention. Meanwhile Mr, bison had poured out a glass or wine and , offered it toher, exclaiming, :twit hope there is some mistake. I ,cannert believe this of you." The- word and and act of kindnesir seemed to melt the statue, and -she, burst in tears. But Mrs. Dixon . l'eit ` this wnuld not do. It was time now for her to play a more interesting part in the drama, and applying her filmy lace.tiordered handker chief to bin gyre, she leaned Iniek — ln chair, and sobbed out reproaches to her husband for his crueltrm doubting her word. Poor man ! wind could he think, what_ cook! he do f Chiefly, I belive, he reaolved,never—ectr i nt erfere between two of womankind and hurry ing poor Mary to the hall, door, where a cab and her boxes awaited her, he cc 'AlYAgfirdstilick l utawitLawo l4 9o ll ! and such etceteras. -r Alasg tirop. ped from her grasp, as she exclaimed, "No, sir—toy character !" Mr. Dixon stooped , for the money, and pressed it upon her again—till trusting to his assurance that he did not believe her guilty. anti that he would see her righted, she consented to accept it. It is a subject oCpainful interest to• ask how the hundred and thousands of female servants "out of place" in this palpitating heart—this Greet Metropoliscontrive to exist tor weeks, and even months together as they do, upon their scanty wane And plain as the duty, is of employers not to deceive one _another, by giving an unjoet character of a servant, or *thug glaring faults, there is a terrihle,responediilily to depriving a yenng woman of a situation, which is not,l 'fear: getterilli felt., It seems too often - forgotten that servants have peculiarities of temper and disposition se well ea their mistresses, and, that she who would not suit ,one Stonily laded be admirably adapted to please ,another4— T r Surely, it is the most truthful, as well ea the most humane plan, in s mistress, toal= lude only to the moral attributes of ober. acter ; judging charitably—if there be no knowledge darker than doubt - f' the general acquirements. .Seneible people may commenly get on well with 'servants who speak • the truth, and , hive a tole . _ sga share of brains; so much that is vidnable midst follow in the wake. If one mot of have both—truth is even more precious thatt sense. But all this is by the ivay.— What was poor Mary to dci, robbed ef her character fur honesty. A day or two after her dismjesel, , she called on Mrs. Dixon, re-asserting her in nocence,., and / i mploring her mistreat to give her ameba charamitr as, would PWriure her a sivation. But the,mistus was firm in her lady the: who might cad just, a' a l ma 'vol. curred. ,It would by tedious to .narrate the dials of the friendless girl. How one stranger would have received her into her house, but for this unfortunate : episode revealed by Mu. 'Dixon ; and )19 , ,f, on Mary defending heriwil(with' and treaties. Abe halfeaiirniedlfdir 40aret l she would have, taken her,. had Mary old the story (Or". kiNVE44:I this ' 01' itertir, in her next applinatiods rnfes- Bed the suspicion wlnehadwiluid to hVr 1 but there is a very strong esprii de corps among mistresses, and they very seldom think other The lady could 'not faney.4re,Viso4lll4l been mnitaken. ' It was after these SortoWs'ihat the thought oeCuribd to her of applying to the mistress with, whom she had lived previously to "her service , with Mrs. Dixon, and who had dis Charged her only in consequence of reducing her establishment. Alas ! she hatflell, the 'neighborhood, to reside near 'a married daughter; but as they had paid every bill with scrupulous exactness, not ono of the trades-people could tell her whither they had gone. The nearest in telligence she could gain was, "somewhere in Kent." Poor Mary ! her last anchor of hope seemed taken from her. CHAPTER 11. Winter had given place to Spring, but thqugh the frost no longer bleached the pavement, or crisped all 'moisture, and al though the sun seemed struggling to warm the atmosphere. there was a cold wind which would have rendered ;iisernr manta very acceptable, and which b lew through the thin shawl of a yOung girl, as she ittood at the corner of a street, talking M *Mond a few years older than herself. The latter appeared more a favorite of for tune than poor Mary, for she was the shiv ering girl. Now millionaires can afford to dress in rusty black, and a great many bf the sterner sex are either careless to Moverdinetarebout their equipments, or dis figure) themselves by a horrible taste ; but it may be taken as a general rule, subject to but few exceptions, that women—es pe daily Young , and pretty ones—dress as wells their 'means will permit. Hence the warmee and richer clothing of Mary's companion proclaimed her better off in the'. world. 'outstation *that or worse." said Ma ry, with a shudder, and the tears stood in het eyes, which shone with that strange glasey lustrethat often accompanies and reveals ibteMtemental sufferings. “After all, is you say," she' Continued, ~; it would utittee &biochemist., for I never wrong at invonet of - 'ii' farthing's worth in my it ;could be managed—lf I could butlget a g.tlttet. I" ' • • 0011 h,. It can he managed, never fear.— Do you suppose that I could not act the tine ladyi - when I' have icted at a real thee helot: three seisms, am! done much har der things; I can tell you. I don't say but whet Lilian expect you matt nitre good turn. some of these days. if I Should want • »What card I ever airier yeu I" exclaim ed ,Mary.-;-6.you, who are so much above met". ' •' • • ' Pour Maryl . .lfer . sadly had her heart lciaie all this. And the neat, nice manner been warped ' by ' t emptation, how sadly : in which she served the Sunday's diaper, must, her aelfeespeet hive been lowered iof which a couple of friends partook, was before 4 he eduld'heve formed such lin es - ' cominented on. Then the children "took thunteiof Itereelfilhden; or falling, as she ' to her," amazingly, and the circumstance already-was I , Perhaps it were heat not to lof her discovering a half-sovereign which inquire whit , were-the probable services I had strangely escaped from the till, seemed this unprincipled Woman expected in re. :to give them the most perfect confidence in tern .for giving . the false character. It is ' her honesty, so That on the afternoon of hardly to be . sapposed , that elm had sought , Tuesday, the appointment having been du the •acquainurnee of:The-friendless girl ,Iv made with the fictitious Mrs. Smith. without 4 otne selfish plan-or motive.— , MM. Allen, , equipped in handsome silk They stoofftalking a-few minutes longer, I dress, ready to go "after Mary's character," and then **lke& away itt different dime- . almost felt that it was a mere form, 'ulcer done ;•.the elder with the Confidence of in was she of the girl's acquirements and Imerwherhad7terrind - one successfully • I inteerity. through many debonair - of deception, the 1 This was a dreadful moment to Mary: other jtcmtdieg „and : 11.40.0 at the first She (*chits if her quickly-beating heart tient brealting,dOwn of the *niers 44 intrgrity. I the bleed to the crown oilier head; and at Oh ! ye thoughtless women iii your homes , the next inmate. it receded, and left her ready of etteeAye,Whoie breath can give or take I to faint ; while all the events of her troub e"r iLiduttlinth - e' Meteittil ..... Soo! i led career rushed in strange distinctness be judgment of her, and pause. well ere on , fore her, even to the history she had learn some similar occasion' you drivC a'helyleie ' of the baker's former servant having been feniaTe to d e s P h4l 'o"! ' ' ''' I discharged for tam , a falsehood. But Miefiled'uo 1 0 4;i the , n ic a ni of re- ! then he had said —" We would have forgiv , ter_tnito: hee„fanilly tic Wiltshire; site 'en her if she had not persisted in it!" was elready'redniind to .poilrtY'a ''ead ex- I tremitY; and' had diet v ery morning live n incontrollable impulse, as Mrs Al veyed her iiiiini Cloak to con- r len * Wns ' leaving her parlor, M ary seized the ' su f 3 k evi iin S 'the skirt of her dress, and throwine herself vg , l4;Ae,vi , tilieeke'ii.i .. „HY,,..tebarteeel",. , la pa/intonate torrent tat wars, -.tele year *Mond 0, 4 40 - 1411 - 1411 *i r l-gfWl ?/9 "lgoafinees that has saved me! Oh hear she belonged —an?"il' ,those tvh) 16( 1 I me, hear me !" And then in broken phru looked with ehehprttlatipon their "sister in service in London!" '' ' • • , - • see she poured out the story of her trials 1 ,1 • . ', . ~ ~ anti temptations. And, yet., aotwithemeding her . Many Strange was it to see the altered looks of griefs, and the gaunt lignre,of'absidr.wa4t her benefactors, and to hear the cold and whieh.lOomed,upep hol t end,Wint. re wing mournful tone in which Mrs. Allen said— nearer and??Jelfreft , . ...,41?e• hatirrefxrPt. l WieMt "So you have deeeived me after all; you lance only thitttitYbetorefrl,h I ge",yeeng ivnuld hare cheated me with a False tJhat‘ maittee."-,whinti elie i laid . giameed :to pieet acterl" and the good and naturally kind. in the street. and whn 1144. Itedeolted 4,er i hearted woman sank on tier chair overcome lIPPItrodY wikolivilAyliPoikt,t.-PPOI i with surprise. . him she Itialeareed,that„*rs. pimp was "We cannot help. you," said the bilker as .inliro ll3 . o A . Pv9r4.lPiAlf+9o m 1 i PM' ' ItternlY sea silver atm event go ld., tier, let us I ~ Me re y— mere y !" exclaimed the poor be 040(11ff-dig. watt , !ilia, hedged around girl, and, weak from scanty fare—fiw mho bilthefkteligill ,g,r,,,d.elleacy. end feted:tine ' had twee too wretched to eat during even proPTO4/4..Tffbigil,,ltirEale her :FlceePting i the few thiye that abundance had been he mopey front raw, admicer,"l -Sorely the fare her—she fainted outright. When she trrlrld:horfligißl tonoPtfot: do not always 'came to herself she was stretched on a sofa. 4oyv ilif,dreetdital work they are shout. I with master and mistress both leaning "Ir. YOl•P l Pativ. 411!4111.111i do you keow of , over her. There was pity on their feces. a 'plimit ?' Wait the tequirrof Mary, about 'and tears were rolling down Mrs. Allen's an hour after„ietti, had parted front her I cheeks. In loosening her dress. in their now AcintOPince• She had entereJ a endeavors to restore her, they had come riappgatible Igniting baker's . . shop, in one upon a packet of pawnbroker's duplicates. orqw IlMotAMMtilitittreit, : I the dates of which, and the nature of the ,t.What suet of 0 place I".,aahlthe mis- articles pledged, were a touching confir me tre:m.4lond wasperod.goodlouking young tion of her story. From the "coruelian wealth of seven or eight .amid twenty, who broach," so easily dispensed with, to the weepetthen sweeping thehoututter. with a necessary cloak, and a prayer book. the band brutehEwith : tenet, activity. Mary, : mournful chain was complete. by. dui. way.laid obeavettat It glance. that "We will not turn you away," said the the shop and counter, and hani4hrushoind baker, "just now; we will try you a little aliiitirtedancea. were whatevery thing be- 1 longer." Waging to ii biker's shini 'Wald be, ex- ; "Your goodness has saved me!" was all tiemelrelean' and hitt i 'end that the tills- , the stricken girl could utter. trees lieltilf,'ln'her snowy cap, and light- I "But," continued he, "my wife will go. cOligiid ' cdtton 'llrtuis; was a pattern of to your real mistress, and hear her version neatness, lof the story. Certainly your confession , -- "l'haii take 6 litiude-Maida's place, ma'- is voluntary, and I do not believe you are am:l' 6l oW Mart "orseryant °full work, ' hardened in deception." in a entail &Mir ." ' ' ' . i Mee. Allen set nIT, and the distance be. • ! "Lott I wander ifyou *wont,' shit us ?" , ing considerable, she was gone upwards of iftill Mrs. Allen', the Baker's' wife ; "we ' two hours. What un eternity they seem-. Vieth, iittotti'atitettni''lu' a great hod' lust' cd to the poor servant! night,and I . htie no one to do a stroke for "Well, my dear," exclaiined the baker.. tine;'eXesipt the . mireelirl • and she has e. 1 whets at last she returned, "what do you nough to do' with three Children to mind. think ?" , Could you comedireetly—to-day I mean." I "Why I 'think, James, that a great many - "Yes; ma'ant, to-day, if you like." 1 people who call themselves ladies, are no ' ' Then 'renewed the .ordinary questions, , ladies at all. Would you believe it, this and, of it:write, among them—"W here did Mrs. Dixon has found the piece oflaceshe• you liee Nat V' accused the girl of stealing—found it slip - "Wish Mrs. Smith, ma'am, No. 20 pet] behind the drawer, or something of the street."' sort; am! except for her own rert for . 1 Alas ! alas, poor Mary ! i sending away a good servant, I don t think "And can you have a good character ?" 1 she feels her weakness a bit. Poor girl. '"I ant sure I can, roam. I only left be- i I cannot help pitying her. It was very moo Capt. Smith was obliged to go with wrong to attempt to client us with a relief hie ship, and Mrs. Smith did not want two ' • character, but my belief we. IMMO of us, servants any longer." ? know what we should do if we were sorry ~W ell, waithere in the shop a bit, while I tempted. And besides. you see she was I go to speak to my husband. James, not quite equal to carry out the deception." James," she continued, calling from some "Why, I don't know that we Can," said stairs, which led to the bake-house, ..I Mrs: Allen. "Mrs. Dixon says she'll take want you." And up there came a portly her back, if she likes to go. for the lady looking man, with shirt-sleeves tucked up, has had three house-maids since. she le% and his arms covered above the elbows and you know it is a much grander place with flour and dough. The Aliens were than ours. At any rate, she promisee di a happy couple, well to do in the world, give her en excellent attataater• and in good humor with it and.themselves. "Did you tell this Mrs. Dixon about the An attentive listener might have heard intended fella, character ?" something about "tidy looking girl : think "No, I didn't; for I soon found out how she'd just do ; bet hero it's Friday : and matters were, and 1 felt I should have been I am sure I never can get out for her char- wicked to do the, girl , a further mischief." acter either to-day or to-morrow." "Quite right, my love, said thirbger.' . • "That's a pity," said the husband. Mary was called in, anti the hew nktlit "If we could be sure of her honesty. I With tearful joy, and amid the thin v• wouldn't mind taking her, and going after ing of Heaven, she implored ; that lbstWlA. . her character next week. What do you refu l gent would spoor baiweogrfoliAllse. boy, James ?", - - -- ' rejordeg With -40P ) 0 11 4 1114. = I "Hy' dear, hOw can we be sure ?" i id ea o f ibe,,,pondork. ,• ~r- . 1 "Site would not be so stupid as to say • she now nerved them fur rant MO FA. TWO DOLLIJUS Plat ANMASIIi,,,P, NEW SERIES-NO. U. she could ha ve a good character if shower" not honest," replied the wife, whore nand seemed veering very moth towards vying' her. “That's true," exclaimed the baker,. as if a new light were let in on the 'object, "Come and see her," said the wife. There were two or three onatonare ing in the shop. but during Mrs. Alban's short absence, her second chilkalinielid of about three years old, hadomade (Kends" with Mary, and was clinging to her heedb and looking up in her face, as if she were an old acquaintance. It may be that We was the feather that pleased the puttee sad turned the scale. The feelings with which Mary leerned that she was to be received in-this unusual manner, and that the falsehood which was planned would not be acted for throe days to "come, at least, were something Like those we may imagine a culprit to *alert twin when lie receives a respite of h is, sen tence. A dim hope would make itaelf felt. a dim hope that something would occur to prevent its being carried inm execution. With what wonderful activity Mary ass to work, or how anxiously strove to please. words cannot easily tell. But the Lie was a haunting Presence that seemed to banish even the hope of happiness. The honest baker and his wife were evidently well sat isfied with their new servant. The advent. tnee by which she had profited, of living in a family belonging to a higher station, ena bled her to do many things in a superior way ; and the Aliens were people to apple-
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