El
po
DIY FRIENDS.
Oh, they are precious to my heart,
Illy.choson friends, the few
.„
Who guard one with affection's eye,
Who blame and bless tue - too;
Whose hearts keep echoing fondly back,
In love's eternal tone,
The joys, the hopes, the thoughts, the tear's,.
That tremble in my own.
To moot the siCeot confiding smile,
Bright with aiTeetion'S dew,
To fool that I am with the meek,
The pure in heart, the true!.
:To look into their earnest eyes.
Where thoughts the brightest dwell,
An, angels's harp, an angel's tongue,
Alone such bliss can toll.
And oh, when absent, how I love
To call to mind the past,
To count o'er every word we spake
Before we parted last;
To gather up each look or tone,
And number every smile,
'Till I am lost amid the gems
That gleam on-memory's isle.
My friends, they are not many, yet
I know tbair hearts are true— ,
Ah, sweeter than the praise of all
Is friendship from the Few!
I'd rather lire in kindred hearts,
TR glory quite unknown,
Than hold a nation in command,
Than 1111 a friendless throne.
And e'en If same should turn aside,
And change, as friends have Bono,
They should not perish - Tr - an my heart,
Oh, no, not ono! not one!
Love is too mighty in my soul
To wear oblivion's pall ;
And If I.had a thousand hearts
I'd love, aye, with them all.
gtlert Tule.
THE LADY'S REVENGE.
I=
• Young, beautiful, accomplished, and even
learned, was Miss Amarynth St. Quillotte, when
she was deserted 'by her loVer and affianced
--husband, Mr. Emerond. Above all, she was
amazingly rich, her father having been - a West
Indiaa Planter, in days when West Indian and
wealth were terms synonimous. The young
girl had been sent over to England, by her
guardians in her fourteenth yclir, soon after
becoming an orphan ; and at twenty-one beau
tiful and an heiress, wag worth ono would sup
pose, the constancy of ant's man. Mr. Eme
rond thought differently, however, and after
four years assiduous courtship, took the liber
ty of changing his mind. He ran away with
a silly young girl from •a boarding-school,
without a pocket piece even to ,her fortune ;
and in a farewell letter to his deceived mis
tress, coolly told her he found that within his
breast which forbade him to be the slave of
any woman. And the worst of it was, he had
taught Amarynth to love—and need I say what
love is when it dwells in the heart of an ar
dent young-West Indian? In truth, it is more
fervenaiiii fatal in its consequences than col
der minds can well imagine. When this love
was slighted, repulsed, returned on the hands
of her who had bestowed her entire heart on
the faithless Emerond, there was a storm of
passion kindled not easily allayed nor brought
in to the limits of reason. 'Am I so ugly then?'
soliloquised the discarded beauty, looking in
her mirror. The image reflected might have
been more serene, but, in its own peculiar
styhnt.sould scarce have been more rare in its
loveliness. 'Am I ugly ?' she repeated ; and
as the mirror answered 'no!' she continued—
'Then of what use is b9uty,- when a pale skin,
yellow hair, and lack-lustre eyes have robbed
MO of all that life held most dear? Oh Em
erond ! my girlhood's idol !—my womanhood's
pride 1 Come back I—yes come back !—and I
will forgive all !' And the poor young lady
continued to indulge in similar frantic apos
trophes, until her brain became excited althea
to madness, and her bosom overcharged with
grief nearly to suffocation.
, That night Miss St. Quilotto slept not, but
passed it,in meditation. The determination .
she . Came to was to be revenged—her Creole
blood demanded it. But how, to visit the
guilty' man with poison or dither would not
satisfy her; and to kill herself would be futile
inasmuch as she will not be able, in that case,
to as'eertain how Ito bore the blow. She
wished to ring his heart living, and prove bow
little she felt the stroke which had in reality
crushed her ardent and haughty spirit to the
ground. She would therefore marry. True,
Mr. Emerond's was the only offer she had re
eieved, and for him she had spurned-all sui•
tors, and treated, all mankind with such dis
dain'that her report shrewishness had become
scarecrow to her beauty ;' but still she be
lieved she coUld.attract somebody, no matter
who—at least her money would. ~ To give up
liberty, wealth, freedom of thought perhaps,
and all to a man whom, be ho what ho might,
she must loath—for the very name of a man'
bad suddenly became' defestible—seemed iin•
pasible ; yet Marry sho must and would.—
The thought of dying, and bequeathing her
wealth to hospitals, parrots, and monkeys, was
yet more horrible. There was no purer light
shed on that rehellous soul—no "thoughts of
gentle minestrings, holy charities,' or pious
sympathies; blit the , frightful picture of a
old, maid, which flitted in the darkness of her
over•wrooght imagination, was that oth splen
etic being, wallowing in cards, and scandal,
pampering over fed dogs and cats, sneered nt
by her acquaintances, and reviled by her en
endeß.
can never come-to that,' she resumed, as
this horrible/rtrait rose before her eyes. *He
shag nit lire that gratification. I will have a
husband, he shall be my tool—my slave.
Ho shah/be an image sot up to sustain my dig
nity before the world, and he shall be obedi
ent. Never can I love and honor any man af
ter such treatment as I have experienced ;
never shall any man love me — More, if man's
love can indeed be anything but mere pre•
team'
Now, this kind of sc6ine was all very well
'n theory, but practically it was extremely
iliffidult of execution, setting delicacy aside.
If Amarynth really ,intended to reverse the
general custom and propose to some gentle.
man, still thclind of proposals which only she
wcu:d agree to, that of entire control over her
husband's opinions and actions, was riot like
ly to meet with acceptance She paused as the
many' difficultieVof the scheme rose in array
before her then suddenly flashed a thought
Was it 'feasible ? yes! it must it should be so
Not far from Miss St. Quillott's residence
she remembered to have noticed a young man,
whose occupation was—smile if you please,
dear reader,—a sweeper of the crossing. Am
arynth, who freqeutly, attended by the faith
less Emeroud, or at times a single man ser
vent promenaded in the park, which the gar
den of her house overlooked, had noticed this
person; partly because he looked superior to
his mental occupation; and - partly - because, -
when she doled out her charity, he appealed
to reverence the beautiful Creole as some
thing more than-human; It was towards this
creature that her thoughts were now directed,
feeling certain that the man was good looking
enough to be made a gentlemen of, to hand
her to the carriage, carry her fan in publie,at
tend her to the opera or playhouse, and to be
set up to the world as a lawful defader and
protector. This, too she thought, would wring
the heart of him, the false, - the vile—with in
dignant envy. He was poor, too, a main
point; 'because no rich or independent man
could pots . bly be reduced to such a mere pood
le's existence. She spent a day in considera
tion) and the next morning sent her maid to
summon the sweeper, as yet innocent of the
strange honors awaiting him. Much astonish
ed was Mrs. Abigial, too; at. her mistresses
new whim ; but her place being good, she was
discreet, and made no remark, not even to her
follow servants.
CIIA PTER II
It was a bitter, piercing day in January;
when Paul Meredith was ushered into tho
splendid mansion of Miss St. Quillotte. He
War bull frozen, and had keen blowing his
nummed fingers for the last half hour to keep
them from congealing.
Aninrynth was not far out in her conjecture.
The poor young fellow had feasted hilt eyes so
often on•`lit*y Htveliness that passion had been
nour.shed in the breast of that ill-fed half
clothed 1, op el ese youth. Miss St. Quillotte
had become his sun ; when he saw not that via
sion of haughtiness and beauty, the brightest
summer's day was dark enough to Lim. But
further than nourishing her lovely image in
his outcast breast. more than daring to dream
of her whelk he laid his head ou his miserable
'pallet in his garret, or of wondering at her
dainty elegance and beauty, lie had never as•
pired, even in thought. Ile knew moreover,
r hut the exquisitly dressed gentlemen who of
ten attended her was a favored suitor, so much
common r.; ort had told the b
sweeper ; therefore when ho wns slmw
noble room, replete with luxuries nn,l elegnnce,
ho 1.), , ke , t i.nd wondered, and concluded he
was alyiut to become the object of one of those
sudden and benevolent caprices with 'which
fine ladies 'sometimes honor poor people. In
the mi I witchments, a bright vision
appeared to him, and oh ! Ito* glorious in its
rinlient and superb loveliness? The rich fur=
niture, the perfum e d air of the luxurious. a
partment, the beautiful and elegantly dressed
roumig woman who stood"there before him, all
combined to awe and abash the
.poor young
mall, who felt his unfitness to appear before
wealth and refinement; for with his soiled and
coarse attire, though it was scrupulously clean,
his apperance was strangely out of charneter
with all about him. Yet, abashed'though he
might stand there, Miss St. Quillen°, on lit
part, felt no less so. She was about to violate
all those nice proprieties which fence in an in
vest women with the sancity"of respect. She
was about forever to annihilate her own self
esteem, and-----she paused. At that mo•
Ment it would Lave been easy to dismiss the
wondering sweeper with an inquiry, a present
or an excuse ; but the memory' of EtnerO'nd,
his slights, her still deep love, her possiounte
regrets, gnawing wish that he too n1100(11)0
u9O to feel;ropentance, braced up, lice singu•
ler resolution. Sho spoke. Paul started as
the clear, cold, haughty adcents follyn—ltis as
(Ear Lisle fjerna.
•
4onished ear. Amarynth, who was easy enough
to servo and live with, would not for worlds
have spoken in such a to ne one of ber hum- .
b:est domestics,
'You are very poor,' she said, frowning as if
she was denouncing a flagranterime.
He raised his eyes L-large, bright, ned blue
they were. Midst his poverty, this young man
afforded the purest type of the Saxon race, in
the pride of manhood, with his' tall, well knit
frame, fair curly hair, a bright skin, and those
clear eyes, wherein yos might as in a mirror.
behold every object near him reflected. He
raised them to her. am poor, madam, very;
but I am honest.'
She curled her lip. HOnesty, to her, was
but a virtue of the most Plebeian order—the
saving grace of the very abject.
do not suppose that you are going to rob
me,' she answered. A pause. 'How would
you like to be rich V •
'Madam !' lie was so surprised at such n
question that his face flushed, for he, thought
the rich beauty had sent for him to mock him
for her amusement. lie turned; and bowing
prepared to go.
'Stay, said Miss St. Qtiillotte, reaching a
chair and setting down—for she felt unequal
to stand before that honest amazement and
those searching eyes any longer. 'Stay : I
have a great Ilea! to say. I propose to beStdw'
wealth on you—tO make you, in short a gentle-
man.'
'Madam
'Speak not but listen ; for I have things to
say still more surprising. Hear but dtl not
interrupt me. Do you comprehend young
man how this wealth and station is to become
yours ? I will tell you : you must become—
my husband.' .
It was fairly spoken now, and for some min
tiles a dead silence reigned throughout thi )
s_pacious apartmenL Neither-could -speak.—
Paul's face, which at the first receipt of this
wonderful intelligence lighted up with eager
ness anti joy, now subsided into gloom and
doubt. Miss St. Quillotte's spirit rose.
'Perhaps,' she said haughtily, 'I am reject
ed?'
"Madame' said 'the young man, •I am
,but
a poor fellow, earning a mere crust by the
most degraded, labor; but I have yet that in
my keeping which is better in the eye . of God
—ho raised his eyes—those bright Unflinching
eyes—reierently to heaven-'than wealth and
rank within. I mean, madame. the honor of
a man—a man who-has never been debased,
further than poverty can debase. I think I
understand your ladyship.' Here he blushed,
stammered ; hesitated; for he was quite un
skilled in the polite art of uttering disagreea
ble truths in an agreeable way. He continu
ed—'lly own poverty is irksome enough; I
cannot bear the burden of a fine lady's shame.'
Amarynth started up. Her creole blood
turned dark red in her veins, and swept over
her brow, face, and bosom. Here was a pre
cious mistake indeed ; the youth fancied her
guilty of actual crime, and seeking to conceal
her dishonor with the shelter of a husband's
name ! It was not an unnatural mistake, after
all. At least, here were noble qualities—
stuff which it is a pity is not oftener found in
real well-born gentlemen. She recovered and
forced herself to explain. 'You are very bold,'
she said, disdainfully, 'but you are mistaken.
Listen. Ho who sought my hand and fortune,
and whom I have loved from girlhood, is
false ; by this time he has wedded another.—
My soul burns to be revenged; but the name
and sight of man is hateful tome. In reality,
I will never take on myself the duties or af
fections of a wife ; it is for this I sent for you.
You are'poor ; and it will be something for
you to be raised out of the mire of poverty
and dirt.' She sneered. 'The ceremony of
marriage will confer on you some advantages
which wealth can give. In the 'eyes of the
world you will be my husband ; to me you
must bind yourself by solemn oath, a written
bond, never to lie more than you are at this
present time, standing there, a beggar and an
outcast.' She glanced around her proudly—
though to say the truth, her pride that minute
was 'ot the very basest kind, the pride of vul
gar riches exulting in its power over honesty
and virtue.' Again there was a silence. Paul's
head was bent down oh his breast, his eyes
fixed on the ?Wished oak floor. Miss St. Quit
lotto was exhausted, but she rose up. 'Re
main hero,' she said, 'for half an hour. De
_iiherate on the hvantages offered—an oppor
tunity .of foitune whiCh few 'would reject in
your' - OVCutOstancee. But no mistake: you
will be bound down strictly / and on the least
attempt to alter' the•conditions of our contract,
my wealth shall ot-tain a divorce, and you
shall be cast forth to your original-, station.
Remember, you will receive the title of my,
husband, the fortune of a gentleman, but from
myself, only the.consideration I :Sofa tb my
wher paid and fcd Magueys.
With thiansolent speech, calculated' indeed
to crush the Must humble, she left the room,
and the young man paused on this singular
adventure. At first he was for darting off
and leaving the rich lady—those image,' fair.
er and fairer than the . reality, had filled his
bosom,' and tinconciously had elevated his
thoughts above his seeming station—to seek
imuie,t , ot better fitted for so humiliating a
pos4n; but tuere arose a picture which of
fectmilly chained bin to that room, and bold
him down as it were with chains. of lead.--
This picture presented a bed ridden woman,
whose, tender love for her son had been, spite
of their wretchedness and mint, his saving
angel, his garditin spirit. To' bestow on her
last few remaining days'comforts and luxuries
unknown. to obtain medical aid hithertO above
their grentest hopes—all this constrained him
toil usitnte and doubt as to whether he should
indeed throw by the golden chance fortune
had so strongly offered him. Few in his rank
and circumstances would have paused a mos.
ment; but Paul Meredith was one of those
rare human plants-which. groan and fostered
in a wilderness of weeds. yet lose none of its
original parity and *fragrance in its forced
contract with vile things.' His father a pri
vate soldier, had perished in the American.
war; and his,piOther, a delicate woman who
had followed the camp, returned to England
on the occasion Of hostilities between that
country and America bearing with her her
infant son, then between five and six years of
age. On her arrival in London, Mrs. Mere
dith, who had her own and her child's living
to gain, was seized with rheumatic fever, and
on her recovery she found she had lost the
use of her loweLlimhs. Henceforth the poor
widow was bed ridden. With the. fortitude
and courage Which the poor so often display,
she sought, by the aid o' a kind neighbor or
two, fur needlework, and for a time managed
to support herself and little Paul in decency.
At length tbiii resource, precarious in that
day as it is in later tiM'es, failed. Then she
articles for daily use, and the poor
bey Went abolit oe - street's of London vending
them-for their bread. Daring this time the
poor widow, who as times went was a fair
scholar, taught the boy tc rend and write, and
to pray for their daily food. These were
pie teachings, yet the seed was sown on good
ground, :mil promised, in spite of its preco
cious and forced knowledge of,the world around
to bear the fruits of faith, honesty, and love.
.Time passed. The widow and her son grew
poorer each day, often fasting for long hours,
he the sole attendant of her sick and painful
bed. The boy .might, like his father, - have
entered the service of his-country ; hub could
he leave his mother, she, whose riches he was;
whose only hope in this cold, bleak and rug
ged world, was the youth's filial love, alone
rendering supportable - 11er trials.,and priva
tions.
This mother, then, was the thought which
hindered Paul from depatting out of Nis St.
Quillotte's house faster than he had entered
it. While ho thought, and wondered, and
hesitated, a servent entered bearing a silver
salver filled with rich viands and generous
wines. Poor human nature! I may not
paint thee better than thou really art. Hun
ger and poverty drag down to the earth the
brightest and most soaring spirit. Paul ate
and drank, looked wistfully at the dainties, as
be thought of the dear invalid in their roor
garret, and finally made up his mind to accept
the heiress on her own terms.
After all do not think so meanly of him.—
lie was. but four and twenty ; and perhaps
there burned a latent hope within him that
the object of his silent and humble passion
might one day repent of her resolve. •
She returned, and desired to know if hie
mind was settled. Ho, not without much em
barrastrient, for he was unversed in deceit, sig
nified his acquiescence.
Amarynth's face brightened. After thus
exposing her affairs to this creature, it would
have been too dreadful to have been spurned
by him. She placed a urge filled with gold
in .is 1 , 1111.1 desiring hii,Weuld procure suita
ble attire, and return to hei house at eight
o'clock that even' , g, '`when,' she said, '1- will
havethe contract between us, prepared and
ready for signature. After that I will inform
you when the marriage ceremony is to ^take
place. Your name ?' 110 blushed as ho told
it. lie felt that this meek-inarringo was the
only tarnish that honest
. name bad known.—
She was pleased at its euphony. She bad
feared some vulgar sounding cognomen. 'For
the present," she said and with the air of a
queen dismissing a courtier, 'adieu. My wo
man will conduct you through the garden into
the park. You will return to,Pight, the same
way ; it is important that none of the servants
should see you.' And they separated each
with anxious thoughts-,-he to tell hie mother
this strange fortupe ; she to bribe : and crx
her lawyer, old Jeffries whose aid was
indispensible,.:.into acquiesenco with her
strange whim. •
'Mr Jeffrfes was'nn 01161 . 4 who had
had the care of Mis... St. Qiiiittte's affairs ever
sinea,her. minority. lle was peculinr, lint
not nn unkind old gentleman: and when Am
arynth sent for him, and disclosing her forsa
ken plight, acquainted him also with her do•
lectable plan of revenge, that sage, counsellor
deliberately gazed nt his client no she paced
up and down her spacious library, which be
ing a Javanle, etio used much as her Usual
sitting nppartment, and then very quietly de
tided that she was very mad indeed. e soon
found, however, that the form of her mental
disease was that of obstinancy, and nott de
liberated how he might prevent the ra• deed
'he meditated. I must, however, explain that
Miss 6t. Quillotte kept silent na to the recent
occupation of her intended spouse. Mr. Jeff
ries was led to suppose him respectable,
though übFeure. •
Never wne there such a weariaome affair.
It took two good hours to explain every cir
cumstance to the old lawyer, and then he in
'iated with the caution and cincumapecl of age
in going over every individual circumatanee
again. At last. Arnarynth fairly lost her tem
per.
,''Do as you please,' she said. 'Either draw
up tho °attract and settlements as I shall dic
tate, or I will withdraw my affairs from your
hands entirely, and employ some stranger,
who will neither questicn my will nor juge.
talent.
Then
sellinterest promoted Mr. Jeffries to
Sigh, shrug his shoulders,, and to mutter,—
o ell, I wish you may not repent, my dear,'
which being rightly iuterpetcd, meant,,n hope
you will.'
Ho sent for his clerk, and, under the dit - ral'
lion of Miss St Quillotte, a deed of contract
and settlement was drawn up. It would, of
course, be impossible for me to . transcribe
that deed; but, in a word, it contained a con
tract of marriage between Amarynth St. Quil
otte and Paul Meriden) on the terms she had
proposed ; that, in crnsideration of a settle
ment of three thousand pounds per annum to
he settled on the said Paul, he should entirely
forego and resign the authority of a husband ;
dint he was to attend her in public, but in pri
t:ate, different suits of rooms should tirely
Sitpairite the pair from the coMpanionship of
domestic life, save nt dinner, or on the occa
sion of visitors being present—this last clause
appended on time will of the raid Amarynth
St Quillotte. In tine, the young husband, or
rather partner. was so hemmed in with. con
clition4, that Mr. Jeffries, who took n this
occasion about twice his accustomed quantity
of snuff; muttered that the man must be a
perfect tool who could sign such a deed. The
divorce threat was likewise to be enforced on
the failure of the slightest of these conditions.
[CONCLUSION NEXT WEEK]
A DEFINITE CONCLUSION.
- Noah B—, wet-I-fool eta ugh in-Irls old-age
to be addicted to raffia - strong potations, and
when under the influence of spirits, was more
than usually religious. Now one Saturday
afternoon, baking day, his wife, who tyas
industrious old lady; and in every way a model
housewife, asked Noah to go out into the yard
and split some wood to heat the oven with.
Noah concluded before he set about it, to start
off to the .tavern aud3;imbibe," whereby, of
course, the baking vv&f.sfneglected. Coming
back in a short time, and utterly oblivious of
his good woman's request, ho seated himself
in the old arm chair. Noah was very much
attached to that old chair, for, like himself,
age had made it tottering in the fogs and weak
in the back.
" Wife," snid he, "do yer think the Lord in
his goodness (hic) kin 'send Ins into fire ever
lastin' ?"
No answer from his wife.
• Wife, kin the Lorrd intend to be bu . rn us
all in fire everlastin' ?"
Mrs. B by this time wns quite in
incensed at her husband's derelictions; still
ME=
wife, (hie) do yer think the Lord means
(hic) to burn us all in fire everlustin' ?"
This was more than human patience could
endure, and she couldn't bold lier tongue any
longer; she'd speak out if she died, forl:
"No, yer old :fool yer! not if he waits for you
to split the wood."'
THEY SAT.—Whenever any body comes to
you with a story concerning somebody or any
thing arid prefaces it with the stereotyped
phrases "they say," you may rest assured that
nine times out of ten, that report, remark br
story, is a lie. When the author of a report
must he suppressed there is something wrong
in "Denmark." No story, true• in all parts,
need be pr, , efaced with "they say." Let those
who know it, report it boldly, or keep it an
entire secret. We could bring some illustra-.
tions of this subject did We deem it at all
necessary. No doubt every muff will readily
apply it to himself.
I=ZINCIE
Tun GRAVE.—It buries every error; covers
every defect, extinguishes every resentment.
From its peaceful bosom spring none but fond
regrets and tender reoolleetions. Who can
look down upon the grave of an enemy, nod
not feel a throb that ho should have warred
with the poor handful of earth that lies.moul•
tiering before him?
I,,An incident of a most outrageous char
acter occurred in Boston the other day.—
hi , le passing a holthe where they were put
ting on a patent roof, a lady was covered over
with a bucket full of warm tar which a care
less workman let fall. She wore a gay plume,
so that she was regarded as being tarred anti
feathered.'