*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-