111
poetrfl.
WHY DID' HE DIE?
" Why did ha die ?" the mother asked,
As tears bedewed her cheek,
As rifling s.da i almost forbade
lier faltering tongne to speak.
She J .4toopod and kissed her son's pale corpse,
Sh ;rasped his hand so cold—
"Socni shall 1 slumber by his side,
For 1 am growing old."
Why did he die?" we ask the rose,
that Warne In fragrance sweet,
Why d,me, it wither and decay,
And ertnhl r e'at our root t
The scent h. gone 11'10ch/ince exhaled
b'rom'midst the crimson loaves,
And whom the blooming tower once hung
liig web the spicier weaves.
N.Why.did he die?".—Why melts the snow
Before the summer's sun?
Vi by are the dew-chops quailed allay .
When mnz uing Is begun?
Why bursts the bubble, uhleb so bright
Sells I hrOugh the vapory air?
Why do the flowers' thue-Mde and die,
However bright and fair?
"Why did he diet—The blooming ruin,
The limiting suow-flake tote;
The dew-drop bright, the bubble frail,
The reason each reveals.
Fur all on cliPth—inan, woman, child,
Rose, low-drop, snow-flake—all
IVoru trained lbr thno : as Ho docroos
So Uacti must droop and fall.
grltr It.
TALE OF HAVANNA
I=
One of the most singular trials ever attend
id, and et the same time ono of the most in
tensely interesting and exciting, was that of
e young 'Mexican who with myself was winter
,lng-in that delicious spot where nature holds
her holiday the year !around, "known as the
^Queen of the Antilles.
It had been • more than usually gay Tinter
fa - Havana: Str:thr,ers Irma all quarters of
the globe had congregated there for health and
Onji.iyment and the stream of gold poured from
pockets of wealth into'' the ever-asking bosom
of trade" as freely and censelesly as the spark
ling spring-fed water streams showered them•
Selves into tpe insatiate ocean that washed
the Moro's bare.
The young Mexican of whom I spoke, wh'oso
trial I witnessed, was one of the elegants .of
the day. Midas himself, with his wonderful
Alchymical power of transmuting all he touch
ed into gold, could not have scattered on all
aides more laviShly the precious metal than
Leon du Gueeolin squandered his on the fash- •
Ennoble pleasures and follies of the season.—
ilia recourses seemed exhaustless and by bin
princely lavishness he had made himself quite
the wonder of the numerous loungers and i
dlers of the rawly city.
It was the second day after my arrival. I
*as standing with my friend Du Val on the
piazza of the hotel when a richly but rather
gaudily dressed young man sprang from his
!horse and threw hinistlf o on one of the garden
lounges in front of the hotel. Ile possessed
I slight but gracefully proportioned form, and
countenance peculiarly : calculated to arrest
Ijod rivet the attehtion of the most casual ob•
Server. Though slightly effeminate, it pass
end that singular beauty which is far more
grit to fascinate the unwary than please the
Thoughtful student of human nature. His
*Mures were fine and regular, with dark, elo
ifuent, black eyes, a rather high, though some
that narrow forehead, a slightly equine nose,
perfectly formed mouth, filled with a beau
tiful set of ivory teeth, and a classically curv
al chin, all of vr,hich marked him with.a Opt
lhgricitny that would hate been as prepossess-
Ogg ris it was handsome, were it not for a
eimetleing in that expression seen at intervals
Gke a light cloud passin g athwart the sun,
thick warned to be wary in bestowing confi-
Once: Rio complexi ,, n was dark, but very
Gear, almost transparent, adding much to
leis beauty" . ; and as he threw his hat upon the
grass he displayed n profusion of glossy black
Orly clustering upon his finely forme4, head
classical grace we see delineated in
iitme'of Raphael's heroes.
That is the young nabob. Leon Du Cues
`"in," observed Du Val to me.
"The Crmsus you wore speaking about last
Waning ?"
“I'lte same," replied Du Val. 4 ' But look ,
lender conies the carrinAo of the wealthy
Yankee merchant, with his beautiful Amtri-
Alla wife."
An open enrithge, wi.tialiveried driver and
itrt , riders, "mamd slowly by., Its oecurnnts
yero a` middle aged man and a youn,; and
fuvely woman.
14 That ie Ledynrd Wilton, ono of our New
York nnbohr," bald T.
Yoe; but do you w Ids history ?"
'' I 'callow r.ity that L do, oltholqii I hove
loot him in Broadway nod el: , .ewhero a hiin
dred times, hoowing littlo more ot; him tlu
Zia nano.
"116 was born in ono of the coal minis . , of
Western Penrittylvania, grew up a' fatherless.
motherless boy, living anywhere and .:nowhere
picking up ntr.y bits of knotyledge wherever
he could catch them. At sixteen, with nn ex
cellent education, acquired no' ono' knoWis ho6r
he chanced to please a wealthy and eccentric
merchant, and from that time hie fitful star
was sternly in the ascendant: That beautiful
creature by his side his employer's (afterward '
his partner) youngest daughter."
He is an open-hearted, noble looking fel
low, and, I shou'd judge, Is warmly attached
to, his young wife."
"Yeti are right," said Du Val. "He wor
ships the very ground upon which she treads.
nut they any that she married him for his
goodness and out of gratitiide for his kind.
neon to her nftcr the death of her parents
and the marriage and removal of her elder a
..
tern."
Whilst we were talking ; the earrings bad
mnvell on and was nearly out of sight. Both
Du Val and myself had noticed the effect upon
the young Alelienn of the beautiful vision that
had swept by. Ile.hnd started like bus clec-
trifiill as soon as she appeared in sight, and
had watched the merchant's wife as though in
some strange trance, until the last flutter of
her cobweb rail' could he no more distinguish
el.
Cram that day I'mm the handsome young
Mexican constantly in the company of the
merchant's fashionable wife,. sometimes with
her husband. but more frequently toward the
latter part of the time accompanying my love
ly country woman alone on horseback,
A more beautiful creature than Claritf 'Wil
ton I had never chanced to see. A slight, ele
gant figure - , of the niiddle'beight, renturkalile
for grace and enae of its motions, a pale, calm
face, to which dark violet eyes, fringed. with
long. night black lashes, imparted tone and
character : features delicate and regular, with
an air distinguished by the aristocratic con.
tour and bearing of the head and neck.
Such was the lovely being whom the weal
thy merchant loved and called wife. She was
one to whom thea . p s licntion of "beautiful"
would have been giveleitt first sight, but upon
looking more closely
,upon those almost mar
hle-still lenturea, you could see an occasional
outburst Of feeling in the upturning or sud
den glance of her eye that as perfectly eleo-
trifying. If repo-0 was the chief characteris
tic of her exp4eseion, it was not the repoa of
inanition, but rather that of fervent feeling
tamed down and repressed by some might)
power within.
The aeason was in its wane. Du Val and
myself were going on the next day, L itz quit
the sunny skies and Wady airs of the beauti
ful o , :and for the lees poetic and colder clime
of our native hills,
Many of the gay butterflies of fashion had
already flitted to other scenes, but the beauti
ftil Claire Wilton and her devoted husband
still lingered, and the brilliant Mexican hung
around the fair Americana like her shadow
And how did Ledyard Wilton the nabob
merchant take all this devotion to his wife
ram a stranger ?
Du Gussclin, with his insinuating wanner . '
and man of-the-world knowledge, had paid so
much court to Wilton, and modo.himself so
agreeable that Wilton in his unsuspecting na•
lure, seemed not to be aware of the poisonous
power of the viper he was admitting so free
ly to sup from his bowl, and linger on the
sacred precincts of the familiar hearth
stone.
On the morning of the day we were to have
gone, the whole city was thrown into a state
of excitement by the netts of the most inhu
man assuseination of Ledyard Wilton, the gen
ous American,merchant, Ile was found lying
upon the beach, and marks'of a great strug
gle and violence were die covered around the
spot. The unfortunate man seemed to have
been actually butchered in the determined
and daring attempt to compass his death at
all hazards,
It so, happened that a member of. the night
watch, bearing the disturbance, reached the
spot just in time to discover in the perpetra•
tor of the foul deed the well known features
of the bandit Rollo Guy, a man you could not
have met in - broad day-light without
,a shud
der of fear
The alarm was given, and although the
nurderer had escaped, yet before noon the
ioxt day he. was captured and berne in
riu►nph by the excited mob to the hall ofjus-
So in earnest in this instance was tho-some
mes tardrlttly that the trial Was commenced
t once. ,
n the most vindictive langunge the nenniin
ceased Du Gueselin us the abettor of the min-
ilvr; L naming the sum—which WllB ono of
baritone° amount—which lie 'lead given as a
bribe. •
Here , commenced n' Arntifii - ' of the Judg
ment, the sulemnity of which wag truly appal-
The appnrently unstiqcOng Da. Ouesein,
probably wishing to r , ecni seatire, was quietly
molting ft sogar in tho front or his hotel, and
ultholu;h.soinewhat pale, was Outwardly no
eartis le rytalb:
calniatrtho placid skies overhead. 110 goes
tioried those who so suddenly arresteil hint
"," . 14ove your churge!" exclaimed ho.
!tautly. "'Am 1 to be comientuad on the
testimony of a common aseoasin? d defy you
and I defy 'the intirtlerobs bandir.f 110, has
staitiedhie (Isirk soul with the oue more crime
of murderous falsehood."
The trial colon:fauced in good earnest. • but
notwithstanding the-y(1 neertions of the ass
twain' to' condemn Du tl tionolin with himself.
Du Ilueeelitt .seemed on the point of being
cleared of the heinous charge by the adroit
defence he had on the iuetant brought foi••
wart!.
It had grown dark and the darkness was
deepening into night, when some one present
eaolainted, •• Bring forward the.oorpse! Con.
front the tnurderers and die murdered !"
The suggestion was instantly noted upon.—
In a few moments more the torches gleamed
upon the mangled remains of the murdered
Ledyard iVilton And upon the ftarful coutite . :
nance of the ttabolleD - Illid his accusers. Ne•
ver shall I forget the 'florae, hardened exprer.-
sion upon the face of the outlaw, Guy
with his citron complexion, lank, melancholy
jaws, "the corners of his tightly-compressed
mouth drawn far down like the tiger's his
deep set black eyes gleaming like lamp`e - from
a cave, desperate and wrathful, as his hands
were placed upon the breast of tha murdered
man.
"In the name of go I swear that I killed
this men. Mr. Ledyard Wilton, instigated
and hired thereto by Leon Du Guesclin, who
is the real murderer ,' And this datlt.uttered
in a solemn, cavernous soicp,_lo irriell conuic
non with it into the heart" of the assembled
-multitude. '•
The look which the assassin cast on the
confounded Du 0 uesclin was perfectly
ical in its vindictiveness. After he bad finish
ed his adjuration the attorney general com
manded Du Guesclin to take the hand of the
Corpse and curse the murderer.
:tiny the God of vengence forever blast
both in this life and the next the soul of—;"
but Du a uesclin, turning suddenly pale, could
proceed no feather. Evidently coucious strick
en he gazed at the dead face before him as in
reverie, uttered 801170 confused mutterings and
turned a wny.
The gleam of triumph that shot forth, front
the assassin ltello's eyes was perfectly demo-.
'-niacin its - malignity.
-Many other efforts were made to entrap the
too evidently guilty Du quesclin into a - betray•
al of his guilt, but he remained calm and im
moveable from then until the hour of hia exe
cution.
All that wealth could do was done by hie
friends to buy him off, but his judges - were in
exorable. The two criminals were executed
together, the fear of the assassin Rollo being
to the last only least Du Guesclin should be
permitted to escape.
The remains of the Mexican were buried
by his friends with much imposing ceremony,
whilst those of the robber Guy were buried by
the brotherhood of charity.
How Tar the beautiful and rich young wid
ow was implicated in the murder of her hue-
baud was never known. Rumor with her thou
sand tongues whispered strange things of what
was deemed her iia.ton with the Mexican ; but
as she preserved during the rest of her stay
calm,impenetvible demeanor that at all times
distingaished her, no one could fathen the real
feelings of her heart.
Outwardly in de4 . mourning, soon after tbo
funeral of her husband the lately idolized'Cla
ire Wilton, accompanied by her waiting maid
sailed forher own home.
3titerestirtg
THE DICIPLIN OF LIFE.
.OR
Domestic Drudgery made Delighltal.
Mrs. Edson's second son,
'you promised to cover my book before I went
to solo• I this morning.'
Mrs. Edson was very busy,.but she recol
lected that she had promisor) to cover the book,
and when she made a proniise to her children,
she iiire very careful to fulfil it, if possible.—
•Bring me your book,' she replied, 'and I will
try to cover it.'
It required but a very short time 'to cover
*Mothei,'
the book, but.the job, trifling as it wns, was
not more than half done, when Mr. Edson who
- wns - propnring to - gyto his business, contrived
to pull a button from the wristband of his
shirt.
'Hero, wife,' said he, 'just take your needle
ud thread, will you, and sew on 4 b.utton
for me,"
Tho book was laid down to sew on tho but
ton. Not more than four of the half dozen
stitches, which wore requ'rod secure the
loatOn in its Itltce,, had been taken, when the
do o. wa3 thrown o . t . tm, not vary gontly or de-
liber tely, FA ward the e'dert son, eltu ad
vance kat," the rt ow, holding tip to—tiew the
IO e-ft .ger el his let t. hand, which was all Weed
•\lather,' said be I have managed to
cut my finger. lb s du, it up fur me, quick
l$ y u (M, liar inmost
The two remaining ritirrhes, wee,. anon trl
ken. Then the roll of old linen and n heeiti nt
water were produced, nil he ettr fingtr done
tip. ,1.12; this time the babe r m.tria to
„iniagin.
that his heathers nerd getting more than their
share of iittention.mtil siMorr
gainat longer ne , leet,tteguti to cry heartily
•11'hat is the tn.tter with my Charley,' said
Mrs. Prison, taking the, babe in her firma, and
trying to Rooth it
Kut herd George interposed by saying. •It
is almost sp•holil time, mother. and toy book is
not covered yet'
•Well, come and amuse Miley, and I will
finish it.'
Charily is set down on the carpet to be a
mused by George, but the plan fails because
master Charly does .not chose to be amused
,just at this time. but continues his crie. whsle
the book in being covered, and while the me h
cr looks up the Geography which Lucy left in
some strange place the night before, puts a
new string into master George's. ties up a bun
dle which Edwani is to le,ve with Mr. B. on
his way to school, and sees the whole part}
fair'y off. Charly is then taken up once mord
but his cries are not fairly hushed. when Brut
get comes iu froth the kitchen to say there is
poor woman there who wishes to speak with
Mrs. Edson.
But it is unnecessary to go into any further
&mil of the domestic carte—trifling when
viewed singly—but by no means small or in'
eignificant in'-their aggregate, which tried the
' patien --wort upon the spirits of Mrs
Edson during tilt that morning, as they had
done many mornings betbre ; hut the morning
un i its cares passed a Way, and gave PTace t
the afternoon, as mornings - always do.
As Mrs. E.lson was sitting by the otndte iu
whicheharly was taking his afternoon nap.
while Willie, the next oldest, was seated upon
the rug, surrounded by his blocs, rearing
something which he very gravely informed his
mother was a •big church,' the door-bell l ratig: 4
Mrs. Edson looked somewhat anxious y to r
wards the door until it was opened. and the
cheerful face of Aunt Mary appeared, when
the anxious look immediately gat/aid/tee to a
smile of cordial weicome—for Aunt Mary was
welcome.
She was one who carried sunshine with her
wherever she went, no matter how dark and
cloudy tho sky might be, and she had a pecu
liar faculty of drawing into the sunlight too,
all those who were so happy as to be thrown
into her society. She would ,take the little
world of thought and feeling.; cares' and anx
ieties, upon the cloudy, side of which they
dwelt, and so turn it upon its axis as to bring
them,, before they were aware, directly into
the sunlight of cheerful hope and lofty courage
She was not one of those persons whose hol
low hearted inquiries after your welfare, lend
one'to say that all is well, when covered over
by that smile is a foundation of sorrow, and
hidden under an assumed gaiety is a heavy
heart. There was. something in her tinafected
good will and hearty sympathy, which led one,
as it were to place the keys of their heart in
her hand, and pour into her ear the tale of
theie.most hidden joys and sorrows.
Mrs.—Edson was not long in communicating
to Aunt Mary the fact that she felt thoron2ll
ly' discouraged, and quite wretched that after
noon ; but when Aunt Mary inquired for the
cause, Mrs. Edson replied, that is the
very difficulty, Aunt Mary. If my troubles
were sufficiently dignified to be worth repea-
ting,l could bear them better: in such a case
one might expect some sympathy, but to be
weighed down by a burden of cares and vex-
talons, each one of which is so trifling in itself
that it seems ludicrous even to mention it as a
trouble, is hard to bear. Let me think what
has vexed me, and put me out of tuna to day.'
Mrs. Edson here paused a moment to run
over in her mind - the variou'S`i•venis of the
morning, and at the end of this review the
end of this review she burst into a laugh. for
she had a keen sense of the ludicrous. de
clare,' said she, .l can't think of a single trou
b'e which by itself is worth repeating, yet iu
the aggregate, I can assure you I have not
found them anything to he laughed at. It
seems small to think of a button wanted on a
husband's shirt, or a cut finger to be closed
up, as troubles; but when the buttou Is to be
sowed on, and the finger to be done up, a book
book to be covered, a crying baby to be buSh
'ed, a lost Geography to be found, and a half
a dozen other - things., to be - done - all at one
time, if they are all small' things, when put
together they , are mere than I know how to
bear.
'But I am most troubled,' continued Mrs.
E Ison more seriously, 'when I compare the
petty cares and toils of life, with our destiny
of immortal beings, with the infinite results
which depend upon the transient period of
sojourn here, on Iby the glorious hopes in
spired by that gospel which brings lite and
item , rtality to light, There seems such an
i eengrwity between the two, that I am °fun
tempted to Wonder why thing 4 ttresu nratngel:.
I o !Willy often fit d it very difficult to bear
in mind that there is anything in the world to
he done or eared for, except to repair coats and
shirts, wash sad dress the eitih:ren. add get
them. ready for school, and see that the plea
and dumplings are made ready for dinner. It
“ften neciiis as if my energies were more dig
" lied, more in keeping. se tro'sp;;iik with our
restiny ns io•mortid beings, their tentlctnoy_to,,
elevate the soul And fit it for trnohler, better
fife thaothisiwould then he more apparent !
Mrs Edenn was hero 'interrupted "y Willie,
who hod groin tired of his se.:t upon the rug,
and his block, mid left them to seek for some
Other - source of aniu-ement. Going to a small
workstand. he began to•pull nt the drawl's..,
"Willie." said his mother, " you . must let
that drawer alone. Let it .alone, and (tome
awn!, Willie."
R'illie looked at his mother. and let go of
the drawer tar a moment, but he soon had hie
hands upon it again. "Does Willie hear
mother," Mrs. Edson now naked. "Let that
drawer alone, and come away from the stand."
Batt Willio •till stood by the stand. lo"king
*dry undo aide though ho did not again offer
to Cinch the drawer "If Willie don't mind
mother,and come away from the mend. I shall
have ip punish hint;" said hire. Edson. very
decidedly. Willie now walked elowl) away
from the stand, nail as he did so, Aunt Mary
observed to his mother, "Are you not Melting
teo serious n matter of's very small thing."
Dire Edson looks d up at Aunt Mary with
some surprise, for she was not in the habit of
hearing her reason in this way. on the sobject
of family government, but she replied earnest
ly. It surely is not n small thing that my
child should he toughf to obey too His wel
fare for this world and the world to come
wilt depenit upon liis learning this leslson.
ft Butt surely," repiied Aunt Mary, " It was
small thing in Itself for Willie to pull , out
that drawer, and still smaller to Atte& by the
side of it. Is there not an incongruity in
teaching him so amportuni a lesson as obedi
ence to parental authority, by means of a
thing so trifling in itself."
In what more appropriate way could I
teach him a lesson of obedience at his age.—
It seems to me that a thing so simple is just
adapted to his capacities, ninl is the best poss
ible way of dennlititg hinithileinoti I wish him
to learn. IVhat parent world wish to gi , e his
chill, just learning to walk, his first lesson of
neeessitet of cure, by placing, upon the edge
of tcprecipice, where one false or tottering
step would prove fatal ? Who would not ra
ther prefer that hie first fall should be over
the footstool, -and --on- the- soft parlor-carpet,
and his first lesson of carefulness be learned
there.
" TheSe views, my dear niece, are too per
featly co• rein to be opposed but let us ap
ply the principle involved in them to the sub
ject on whi , 9h we were conversing when were
interrupted by Willie. What are we all, while
dwellers bore in the body. but children only
in capacity and maturity out also wayward
children who need So be trained and diciplin
ed ? You feel that you are teaching your
child a lesson of the greatest value and im
portance, affecting his character for time and
for eternity, simply by Securing his obedi
ence to your commands in a thing exceeding
ly trifling in itself, and it is by just such less
one as these, that you expect to establish the
habits of obedience, so priceless in its value,
preparing him both to obey , and govern, when
he reaches adult years. Nov if by means
equally simple, and seemingly disproporticned
to the reault to be obtained by them our hea
venly Faber is preparing and disciplining us
fir a nobler and better lire than this, can wo
not see that there is wisdom and fitness in the
one case, as well as in the other? Can we
not learn patience, submission, meekness and
self-denial, fron the cares and toils of life, as
well as the children can learn the great and
vital principle of obedience to lawful author
ity. from the simple lessons by which be is
taught this obedience?
" When we reflect bow frail end erring we"
are, would we, if we could, be made ruler over
many thatge, until we have learned! to be more
faithful to the few things, now committed to
us? It was a very small thing, when viewed
by itself, for Willie to stand by the side of
that drawee. but when connected with a lesson
of filial obedience it lost itsinsignificance, and
becothe a matter-of interest - and iMporlance._
So it is with the cares and toils which con
stitute so large n share of the dicipline of life.
- If we view them disconnected with the oljeet
which they are desdgned to accomplish, they
will seem trifling and insignificant. But when
we view them, ns we ever should in connec
tion with the great design to be accomplished
by them they are at once stripped of nil their
littleness, and and become invested with a dignity
and importance well calculated to inspire them
with cheerful-hope and lofty pouragef"
" I believe I have looked at thew. , things in
a wrong light," replied Airs. Edson. "If I
hail viewed than
,more in the light in which
you-now present them, I believe I could have
born them twice.
lf You will consider yourself at all times
b u t as w child whom your heavenly - Father is
leading. and quickening, amilliscipling by the
Illentl9 wliiCll IL! in 1 , 68 in f i nite wi s dom hv ems
tiLln; 11104 RprrOrrin . o to yoUr present state
perfectio t, tt. rkness and ignorance, yt,tt
will le a-int.ted to hear the toils and cares of
such a 'dew of them will invest thstm
w i th v and hiller:once. of the want
of which you complain, and will ieall
derivo stren,r,th tiO in II (rn rue
stitir.:e Com . which you wuuld seek strength to
hear any trial." C. M. T.