M pattrti. Fr;. - on tilo Louisville Joueual THE DREAMS OF OTHER YEARS' The dreams, the dreams of other years, How beautiful they were! Well may their memory in the heart Its deepest pulses stir. For to the cold and common earth, They lent its warmest ray. The stars that trembled at Its birth Were not more pure than they. They sprung luxuriant ns the flowers That deck the wood and dell, And, 111:e the leaves of nut limn, they Were brightest when they Yet, who, with all their witchery, Their mingled joy and pain, Who would forego their memory, Or dream them o'er again ? The first, tho first "young dream" of love, That held the heart in thrall, The earliest end the sweetest one, Tint dearest of them all— :Lt its gentle memory Proud eyes with tears may fill, For, oh, 't was wildly worshipped once— 'T is foully cherished still. Friendship! ah, me, what charm WAS that, Ii V' name so sacred linown, That hrhrhtenod with the morning light, And with the eve was gone-- A shirting SIIMIONV on the grass, s. A snn-gleam on the sea— All things that quickly come and pas!: Aro t) pieta of thee. Than came the dream of high renown. That ed And kept the fainting purpzise To drain the bitter rup. All. ll“ hunxan‘sl-d :muy. nwny, As -I:unset clouds depart, But the shadows of their loveliness^ Art. utirromt itt the heart. They sprang luxuriant as the dowers That deck the wood and ,101. And, like the leaves of autumn, they Werwbrightest when they fell; Yet who, with all their witchery, Their mingled joy and polo, Who would forego their memory And dream them o'er again? geirrt gglt. THE LADY'S REVENGE. [CONCLUDED FROM LAST WEEK] The deed was not half oOpied, when Mrs. agail entered the room and made a sign to r mistress. .The young lady landed, . and ating the appartment, the young woman re rned, ushering in a•yout.li on whom Miss St. dllotte gazed with unfeigned surprise. The Clor and the hair.dresser had indeed worked :uiraole. Paul, theseeper, stood there— nverted, not into a beau, but a gentleman-, tle Ow to betray his or. iu but hands, brown horny with hard w.er . It was gratifying; t she: took no furl to notice of the young :n than to reflect that it was a good thing ho ,eked so well. Mr. Jeffries, however, looked rona one to the other of these young people. ;c took a vast pinch of snuff and stopping ,k clerk's arm, took him aside, and conferred cith that functi, nary for awhile. Then writ •ig a menornmlum, he handed it over to the Jerk, who resumed his labors. The night was far advanced when they were The deed by Miss St. Quillott's, de ,ire, concluded with a solgran form of oath, by which both parties bound themselves to ob r;erve the conditions prescribed therein. Mr. Jeffries read over the parchment, and the con tractors signed it. It was not without some repidution that Miss Amarynth teheld Paul approach the table for this purpose ; but to .ler relief he could write his name, and that in a bold round hand which would not have dis graced a'clork. During all this time ho never once looked at his affianced wife, who on her part regarded him as little. Business over, the bride elect named two days thence, for the ceremony, which was to be strictly private; then all parties soperated, to meet no more, until the wedding day, when they were to be united at Mr. Jeffries' house by special li- cense The day game, and Paul Meredith, the cros sing sweeper, was united in marriage to Miss Amaryuth St: Quillotto, the great West Indian heiress. The remainder of his wedding-day was spent by the ,bridegroom in the mpart pant of his bed-ridden mother, for whom ho had taken handsome rooms near the bride's house. That eccentric young lady spent hers in tears, sighs, and perpetual revertings to the man of her heart—now lost forever. A brilliant and a happy wedding day it was CIIAPTEIL 111 Mrs. Meredith had no reason• to il fear her, husband's intrusion. lie never came except whet she summoned him to attend her abroad ant(t en it was apparently any thing bula pleasurb - to him. The marriage had been du ly announced, and ecingratttintions poured in front all Antarynth's friends. As fur the bridegroomhe never had any, except the pen ny pitman, who, had in. the days of Paul's dostitution,. frequently ,giVell that young fel low a Fie to take home to his mother,' But the pieman know naught of Paul's exaltation and was therefore much mystified and aston ished when a strange gentlemen, who said ho was Mr. Meredith's man' of business, inducted din in a thriving trade in his own line, clogg d only with the condition that he never should squire into the name of his benefactor. Paul engaged a gentleman to come daily ad instruct him in various branches of knowl dge during the hours of leisure when ho was of in attendance on Mrs Meredith, or his ed-ridden mother. When the young man 'anced attendan4 on his haughty young wife, 4o could not avoid seeing how she_was_a~hnir d. AMarytith's marriage, indeed, seemed -lie signal for hoffinge and adoration of all .inds from the other sex being lavished at her yet. When men no longer dread being en rapped -into marriage, they are willing enough a admire. Some of these gallants strove' to Viii the "husband into intimacy ; but that oung gentleman, for so he now was in the yes of the world, avoided all society, except !int of his mother and tutor. And time mov -on. Mrs. Meredith drank deeply of dissipation. Vearisome the balls, the ridottes, the fetes, he partieS at faro, she dragged her reluctant unbend to. Paul was soon tired of fashion ble life. People wondered at his quiet pia idity, and passed on ; it was nothing to the s•orld, the distant terms that Mr. Meredith %nd his beautiful wife appeared on. Paul had ion satisfied himself that Amarynth's reputa lon was indeed intact. She flirted, it is true ad delighted in the thought that-she some- Hues, With her wit; learnittg; and beauty; used. in some foolish heart a genuine flame, :hich . she would encourage to the last, and lien turn round and trample on the unforta ,ate, as, she muttered, her heart had been rnmpled on. She little dreamed that of all lie throngs who dwelt on her charms and de ighte l iii her briliant conversation, her lets ,and was the most devoted and the most hope• • esti. Ilow indeed could a than see that lovely reature iu all the paimply-of her beauty, all ho relenue had finish of her facinatb ns, and lot love her, even if he had not loved her from ..A.heArst-1"--lieloved differently_ rota the-time when she used to give him sil ger at the crossing, but not less passionately, for increase of knowledge seldom lessons the I • passwin. Amarynth strove to keep witbin.ber heart the image of Emerond. For the sake of con stancy, I grieve to say, that imago grew daily fainter and fainter. It was, after all, but a waxen one, which the very heat of resentment and memory gradually melti:d. In spite of herself, his name no•longer caused the blush nor the throbing of the heart, which used to follow on hearing of him. I verily believe his existence would have been entirely forgot ten but for the vast heap of letters with which she fed the dying embers of her gra'nde pasaiun and the lock of his hair which she watered with her tears till the lachrymal fountain dri ed up and refused to gush forth on any such occasion. Just about that time, too, Amar ynth's interest was excited by elegant briquets which were sent to her, accompanied with verses, which her really cultivated literary taste told her were far better than the love lays of day. Sonnets, mostly, the linos were in the form of—the versification not of the smoothest perhaps, but the sentiments fresh, synulitneous and evidently from the heart. There was the fire of Ovid, without that bard's wantoness. Sometimes they imi tated the verses of llorace and Virgil. It was just about that time that Mr., Meredith had :nails such progress in Latin that ho hud be an to translate the Alniatl. These verses div6lt greatly on the writer's ardent but hopeless love. She began with in crest, and soon entertained an ardent curiosi ty to see her unknown adorer. She inquired respecting the messenger who brought these iassionate oflusions. No one knew. Every .noi'ning they were found on the marble table n the great hall passage : but no one, strange to say, could toll from whence the offeiings mounted: Amarynth's thoughts wandered vet• hor household ; but thete wilS no one it with the least pretentious•toreading or wri ting save old ILbbs, the house steward, and from him such things as flowers and verses were very unlikely. She was being handed to her coach ono day by Mr. Meredith, when the mistery was solved. A small edition of Virgil dropped out of his vest while escorting his lady, and a paper in it floated to the feet of Axnarynth, In was in the handwriting of the unknown. This, then, was the secret.— Quick as lightning it flashed on her ; but the allected not to see, and as Paul, in some con fusion, picked up the papei', she glanced at. him. She could not but marvel at the polish of his appearance. A pure mind mid a gentle spirit go far indeed towards creating a gentle man, and Paul was that new in form and maw . tiers, as well ns in bCart nut! soul. Mrs Meredith was lost in thought:4ol that even• The next day Mr. Mar her a hur ried inef-!sage ; las bed rifler was dy ing ; would she spare his serviees till all was over? ::;he desired to speak with him. He CAM, all disorder and agitation. All her beauty Could not for ono moment now attract his notice. ,Sho is all I have in the world to love, be said. How ohill those words fell on Amarynth's7lre'Stay,' she said, hesita- iing, '1 will go with you.' He bowed, but ex pressed neither joy nor rapture: The coach Was called, and for the first time Mrs Mere did] beheld her mother in•law. The poor• WO man was all but expiring when they arrived. Paul whispered to her as he supported her di ing head, and she raised her eyes to Amarynth. 'Ah, madame.' said she, •let me thank •you for all your goodness.;., but ob,..my boy 1. Al,, you know not what a heart you have slighted! The poor mother grew speechless• sJon after; and expired on her son's bosom. Amarynth fainted, and knew not how she was taken honie. The lady and her husband did not meet till the funeral was over. 7 11 - 6 started-da:isee_lier: attire. 'You arc too good, madame,' he said. Did she wish be had said something more? After ail, she must own, -be observed the terms she had dictated somewhat too liberally, and her vanity, ever sensitive, began to be voun del Things, however, went on as before.— The flowers and the sonnets; though, had cea sed to arrive, and Amarynth was fain to con sole herself with those she had. It was strange hoW they began to superiede Emerond's let ters. I think it was a month or two after, that Mrs Meredith looked into her heart one day, and appalled at the discoveries she made there, rose up, weal: to her bureau, seized those famous letters, and btirut them every one, finishing - The bonfire — with -- the — lock — of -- iciir which fizzed off at the top, with a hiss of contempt and anger like the last revilings of n disappointment doom Mrs. Abigal receiv ed a hint one day, accompanied by a new Pa. ciliary wino -; and soon afterwards a lock of sunny hair was suspended in a locket, and worn next Amaryntit's heart. How the wsit ing-wo'man got it was best known to herself ; though,Terhaps Mr Peruke, who every day dretsed Mr Meredith's Lair, could have in formed the curious inquirer. Who can date the growth of love ? Iu the -hist.ory--of_passions,ltime_ia_triunpled_upon We may experience that to-day which yester day we deemed utterly impossible. Thski of Venus, and the son of Knox and 'Erebus, were not more different than Amaryuth'n de• ceased passion and 'the pure love which began so gradually to steal over her heart. Tho one had led to violence,_ anger, revenge—the other was exalted till it finally aspired to Leaven itself, for there only might she love, or not InoWledgeher love. That fatal contract, that oath—the death of the happiness she might have known! She would have ceased almost entirely to go out, but that these occasions were the only ones on which she could feast herself with the contemplation of her soul's idol. To be sure, Mrs. Abagail, who was a very shrewd gentle-woman, soon found out the bent of her lady's mirid, and, unbidden, related anecdotes of Mr. Meridith, his good ness, his charities, his self denials. 'We ser wants, madam, think ho is an angel fallen a mongst us ;' and the tears stood in the wo mons eyes. Amarynth would -hear till site could hear no more ; and then sending her maid away, and burying her face amongst the cushions of a couch, sob her heart out. Oh, child, grieving for` the neglected and disdained toy ! who can relieve or pity thee ? But ono day she was startled by a request from her husband.—how she loved that word now, and would roll it over her tongue, and mutter it as something precious and consoling —to have a private audience. Mrs. Abigail brought thmessage—she had been weeping. 'What is th matter ?' said her mistress, a thousand fond fermi fluttering at her breast— 'The poor gentleman—my dear master—looks eo ilbt—fear die ;' and Mrs. Abigal burst into a very Niagara of tears. Amarynth wept for sympathy. 'Let him come,' she said, 'direct ly.' Oh, Heaven ho was altered I and yet there was an unwonted pride in his whole bear ing. She felt, rich Woman and beauty as she was, her inferiority. 'Madam,' ho said: strongly agitated, have conic to ask a favour, and to make a conks Edon.' She started. 'Though I loved you long, long ere you took mo, a poor wretch, from the streets, yet my love is no longer to be borne. If I stay,hero I must go mad or die. Oh, madam that contract! Think you''l would have signed it, but_ror the mother who bore me, and who was perishing in my sight when you raised mo from the depths of pover ty ? Forgive my love ; I cannot help it. 1 have come to ask t you,to me one parting favor—purchase mo a l oommission. I would lie a soldier; madam; my father was one ' Sho looked at him ; she never enquired if he had ti father oven. •- , Yes I' he Peratted, 'a bravo though a'poor man; but I came not to trouble, you with my family remembrances.. I can live madam, on my pay; your allowanocs I request permission to relinquish.: 'Wherefore ?"rhus much, though choked, eanisle ijeralb. she contrived to Hay cannot lonr suhtll3t on rm. bonnt l ' , . I here made much prbgres, madam ()Nate._ Ilotir wit awl accomplipbmmits stimulated me, I cannot'vie, with'yOur learning; but not' I may pass unnoticed for ignorance. Forgive me, madam, and sometimes deign to cast a thought on him who adores you, silent and hopeleSs.' Oh, how she longed to cast herself at his feet—to own her deep, tier unalterable love—to,-bid him live:for her—to—the freezing thod 4 g ht of her oath—bring perjury on both He mistook her silence for anger, and drop pod his head shr) Mum u •ed, 'I will 'Write to you.' r He said no more, and withdrew. The commission was purchased and sent bim with this note: you wish is accomplished, and I beseech to retain the you _income, which u have a. legal right to. I need not, say he brave; for bravery exists when human hope perishes.— Happy are you. iu the ifoX which , vgives you that resource. , AmA.nyNru.' - He departed the day after he received this. ITore is his, final farewell: - 41%-ra - ditn,-;:Askjme noLto_ comply - with - your request, lest, being yours, I weakly acquiesce. A legal right ? Let me trample on that, ns I have on dearer rights which the law itself bes towed on me ivlien I became your husband.— Fear not, madam ; my oath is inviolate. CHAPTER IV - Oh! bitterness of bondage in which the peat twii years passed by. She beard of him though. In 1780 a war commenced against 11ollastr. signalized himself, and gained the Most rapid\promotion. At last she saw him.gazetted—% colonel. Alas! what pause .was there for exultation.: Now he was free of her—independent. She felt daily growing weaker. At lasi the thought occurred that if she die-a someone mustldi - el4lli - d• — tfe - aTth.. -- - Strange not to think of it before. She sent for Mr. Jelferies, and dommunicating to him her love and wretchedness, conjured him to make her a ill. The old lawyer asked many iquestions and seemed actually to gloat over Mrs Meredith's distress. 'lle is coining home,' he said. q saw the arrival of the transport announced.' 'Home what home had he?' she bitterly asked. 'At any rate ho may be in time to see me die." Poh ! poll!' said Mr. Jefferios, iMi n lie most unfeeling,.-manner: 'you'll lire.long euaugh,.l warrant to make the man's heart ache worse ban it does now.' Ten days after that will was made Mr. Jef feries dr(ve up to Amarynth's door. An offi cer was with him. - The aevants crowded round, for they had recognized their master. They entered the library ;_:Amarynth started up. She, too, knew that beloved face, brown though it was, and scarred on the brow with a soldiers trophy. Oath; or no oath her im pulse was obeyed. Her arms were around his neck ; her tears wetted his manly cheek ; she called him husband. ITe ewreBsed her to his heart,Ynt words failed them both—they were - awakening after that indulgence of suppressed love to the fatal knowledge of the vow which intervened be tween them. 'One farewell,' cried Paul, 'and I go.' 'Fiddlestick ?' cried Mr. Jeffries, flinging his brown tic right into the middle of the floor, and capering about with a shiny bald head.— 'I stupid prosy old lawyer though I be, foresaw this hour when I was manufacturing this rig marole of a deed. You heard me read it once; hear it again. I just introdueed, a clause which will_set all to rights.' The oath was registered with n saving clause, that if both parties mutually agreed to hereafter re nounce the conditions of the deed, and become man and wife actually, instead of a mere le gal fiction, the said agreement was by mutual consent to be null and void. Poor Mr. Jeffries, ho was not hoard to"the end of his preamble. Looked in each other's arms, Paul and Amarynth now lavished on one another the dear titles of wife and husband, forgot any presence but their own, and, amidst mutual forgiveness and confessions, and ut terances of affection, Mr. Jeffries quietly pick ing up s his perowig and wont to announce to the assembled Servants that their lady desired them to drink the Colonel's health itl a gallon bowl of punch, It would have done you good to have heard the shout. They heard it not. Wrapped in one another's happiness, they asked none front the outer world. Theirs existed in their own exquisite contentment. I haye no more to relate. I have trespassed on my reader's patience too much as it is.— They have long since boon dust and ashes;— but the son of their so , llieraul Meredith, Esq, lives on his own estate in shire, and per petuates the virtues, the noble simplicity and the unostentatious charities of his progenitor. A Gipsy, going through a villago on a rainy day in a pair of totn boots, was accosted by a passer, , who suggested that •bis boots were much'too bad fur such Ns-Anther. ,4 You arc mistaken, sir," said the gipsey, ." it is the weather that is too bad for tuyboots." • TILUE POLTILY. —We. 1114 with tilt) ,follo * Wing motto round a hobo/ tho other day—tho most original we over read : • "I,ovo is a 1111..11:at turns and aparldes ln tuan as natural a:, in ellareutils.'' r6II MOttlllo. KNOW NOTHINGS EXPOSED. The following is Mr. Cauliflower Smith's ex perience in looking up "them Know Nothins." Smith's purpose was to expose, explode and annihilate the Order. Read what he says a bout it in an Albany paperl\ • " My first idea was to find a Know Nothing. I knoW'd I cold do nothing till I found one, that was a sartin fact. Well, I cavorted round .considerable, all the time as cute as a possum, _ as cunuin' as a fox. I a , x'd a good many pri- ,af. ; vately if they didn't belong, and of cou*SidW , considerable, all .the time atf:tsnie as a pOSsum,, as cunnin' as a fox. I afed'a good many - lpri: ,7 ";•1 vately if they. ilidn't belong,;and of course. A 7 ed considerable in gettin' arotimi-them. Wifrp' ll : all I got of 'em vas "I clout knino," So I to change tack. I goes to one.ON.iii who did n't know notLin' and tell'd him that I was get.' tin' tired of the old dimmycratic way of doing. things, and I intended 'to withdraw from pop 'lar life, and devote my reclining years to my country. I told Lim that I kn o owed I was an' old sinner, but I wished to repent in sackcloth and ashes, and if he'd only get me into the Know Nothings, I'd show by zeal in the cause,- the,einoirity of my repentance. Ile looked at me right straight for some time, and then he seemed'to think I was sincere. lie rim'ed me if I wanted to jine right off, and I told Lim yes. - Then he ax'd me to meet him by- the Hospital ,at . 1.0 o'clock that night, and Le . would take me to see the elephant. 'You see how leng headed I am Mr. Chair man. I know'd I could come it over 'mu if I. only persevered, and didn't Ido it? lie met me plunib at 10 o'clock, and he took and ho blindfolded me, for he said we hadn't fur to go Ile told me I must not only know nuthin' but I must say nuthin' until the hull thing was through. We walked on 'n pretty smart tit distance, I reckon nigh on to a mile, when be give me a devil of a pinch on the arm, and sez he, 'Now look out. 1 felt kind of a queer I tell you, for I was going it bliud - altegether, but my prospects for Recorder was nt stake, • and you nu - 1Y reaOlt it titltcer 'lle took me down stairs through a cellar, then up stairs, and through a long passage way. Right thar in that passage way he Old me to give him all my' money. I obeyed of course, though I'didn't like to part with it.— We walked a long the passage till we came to a door, when he gave the signal. It wits two raps. The.deor opened, and they were whis pering, 'bring in the repentiu' sinner,' and I was lead forward. I heard 'em talkin' all a-" ' round me, and sometimes they would pinch me. They stripped me stark naked, leavin' 'nary a stick on me but my stockings. 'Do you repent old sinner,' said one to me. 'Yes,' said I, gettin' down ott my knees. Whack ! cum a lash right accross my bare hide, makin' the squirm. 'Get up,' said the feller that had een talkie' to me, ghats no position fur an American citizen.' Then he gave and two. more whacks with the lash, and put a heavier blindfold around my eyes. 'Then the Know Nothings all commenced singing the Star Spangled Banner ; while the guides led me around the lodge room. Some would tickle me, some would pinch me, and some kick me, but 1 bravely stood it all for the sake of the Ditmuyeratie party. After they rolled me over, striped me with paint and the lash, and tried my patience completely, they stopped and asked- , -- ' Can you keep your tongue still ?" asked the guide.' ',Yes, sir,' said I boldly. Will you, know nothin' all your life ?' ' yes sir,' said I. ' The bandage fell from my eyes, continued Smith, "and I saw that I was— 'Where V inquired all. Iu Deacon Johnston's stable on Canal street." FRENCH. TASTE AND ECONOMY. The leading idea in France is economy:— Gloves and ribbons are not rapaidiously gath ered up, or bought at random. They are ex actly estimated and allowed for. All the ex penpitures of most of the elegant women to be seen in the Elysees aro matters of previous eslculation and of system. They are not con vulsive as ours are. The study of women in Franco is to make the most of their means, to derive the utmost pleasure, and the utmost good, from the faniily revenue Economy is at the bottom cf the Oleic system of French cookery. A potato field, n vegitable garden, nut a butcher's•shop, are the indespensable supporting force of an Ammican attempt at soup: A handful of sorrel, equips a gallio' housekeeper with the material for a charming potage. So it is , through the social life of that wonderful people. They produce great results with little means. The impressive, elegant appearance of the women, idealized to our friend as the PariSian llt.lle, is the Tra duce of art. which centuries of careful' culti vation have gradually been matured in I'rtn c c. It is n t the result ncprefuse expenditare.— That, in France, is deemed barbaric and vul gar. In AAerica, only, it is defied and ndui• nail ol • BE
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