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