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nate man.

of retaining on his stomach what had grown to I weak arm and placed it around the neck of be the very necessity of his existence. I shall Aurora. As he did so the fresh wound upon mention but one sad act, because it concerns her cheek caught his eye, and he asked who my narrative. In one of his mad moments they had hurt his darling? had introduced into the apartment his little Au “No one—it is nothing, dear, dear papa!” rora, hoping that the sight of the child would cried the child, bursting into tears, and pressing tend to calm his horrible delirium. It was an her cheek to his own, with deep sobs. He drew ill-advised act, and the result was most afflict- her closer to him, and then I saw from his eyes ing. The unhappy man had not recognized his that he wished to speak to me. I bent down. daughter; his tottering brain had conceived the Do you remember, Will,” he murmured, idea that the figure before him was that of a " that night? Your words were not wholly beautiful fiend come to betray him. In his hor- vain. Do you know I prayed that night? My ror and fear he had broken from those who held child and you broke my stubborn heart! I have him, and, with his hand, struck the child vio- prayed often since, with sobs and tears; but my lently, inflicting a cruel wound on her cheek. terrible, fatal habit brought me here inexorably. Aurora fainted and fell, as though struck by Yes; and yet—and yet I dare to hope—I do not lightning, and they hastily bore her from the yield to utter despair--Lost! lost!' that rung apartment.

in my ears a long time. But 'tis no longer my I arrived on the day succeeding this terriblc haunting dread! Will-come closer—you see scene, and entered the chamber of the unfortu- I'm-faint-"

In a corner, erect, motionless, and Here Marquis paused for some moments, oversilent, stood the eternal figure of Jugurtha, and come by weakness, and gasping for breath. in his measured and respectful salute I discern "Poor and—wretched,” he added, in a mured no change. Marquis was in an apathetic mur. “I try—to trust in my Saviour. Will state, and two physicians were whispering at-my dear old friend-take care of my wifehis bedside.

and my child—” I drew the curtain, and looked upon him. I The voice died away, and soon afterward Mrs. shall never forget that face. It makes me thrill Cotesbury and Aurora were warned that too now—the simple memory—with a strange and much excitement was injurious to the invalid. awful horror and compassion. I would I had It is only to spare their feelings," said the never seen it. A deadly pallor quite covered old physician as the door closed; "he can not it; the eyes were deeply sunken in what ap- live another hour.” peared to be immense caverns beneath the lord And so it proved. In less than an hour Marly brows; the lips scarcely met over the teeth, quis Cotesbury had passed away; the cold body and the whole countenance was as gaunt and which lay before me was all that remained of sinister as that of a corpse.

that splendid and matchless being. The soul I turned away, and drawing one of the phy- had fled to the awful account with its Creator. sicians aside-he was a man of great celebrity Let me not dare to penetrate that vail and -asked if there was any chance of recovery ? speculate upon the mysteries it shrouds.

“Mr. Cotesbury's case is quite hopeless, Sir,” I shall pass over a year now, and terminate was the reply. “We do not anticipate his liv- my narrative in a very few words. I was left ing throughout the night. No remedies can the executor of my friend's estate, and his will now reach him."

directed that a life-interest in his entire properI bowed my head with a grief and suffering ty should inure to his wife, to revert on her death too deep for tears. In response to my further to his daughter in fee-simple; and in case of questions Dr. said there was little likeli- Aurora's death without issue the immense prophood of any further delirium. Nature was worn erty was to go to various benevolent institutions. out. His passing away would probably be quite Mrs. Cotesbury died in less than a year after tranquil.

her husband, and Aurora never lived to reach And so it proved. At three in the morning seventeen. The unhappy scenes of her childhe began to sink, and with this giving away of hood seemed to have broken her strength, and his strength his mental powers seemed to re- she slowly passed away in a decline which termvive. He smiled faintly as his eye met mine, inated her days. I was with her when she died, and murmured,

and we had much conversation about her faThank you, Will—you always lored me." ther, my friend, whose memory she seemed to

He then asked for his wife and daughter, love and cherish with a sort of fearful fondness, They came in hastily. Poor Marquis took a which impressed me strangely. hand of each, and said:

I remember the smile on her face as she was go“My wife, my child, I shall soon die; can ing away from me; it was like that upon the wan you forgive me?"

countenance of Marquis Cotesbury. We placed The tones of his voice were unspeakably ten- her “pure and unpolluted flesh” in a grave beder and sweet; and poor Mrs. Cotesbury could tween her mother and her father. There, waitonly sink upon her knees, and, with long-re- ing the final trump, they take their repose. May pressed love, cover the thin hand she held with they rest in peace, and rise to the life everlastkisses. A smile of happiness diffused itself over ing - the roses blooming on their graves be the wan face of Marquis, and then he raised his changed to the pure lilies of eternal peace.

OUR WIVES.

"'M a clerk in the office of Plutus Pilpay;

He's thirty-I'm fifty, or near;
His income's at least seven hundred a day,

While mine's seven fifty a year ;
Fine broadcloth his coat, while coarse home-spun I wear;

He's booted, while I am but shod;
All's one! with us both, back and feet must go bare

When we travel the highway of God!

His house is a wonder-in fact, I've been told

That 'twas shown at a quarter a peep!
There are gardens and aviaries, velvet and gold-

In short, every thing that's not cheap.
There's a chapel, in which ’tis a pleasure to pray;

Religion made easy for lust;
And here, every Sabbath, my master, Pilpay,

Rehearses the sleep of the Just.

His table is splendid with crystal and plate,

His cellar is daintily stored;
And there's no tedious Lazarus begs at his gate

For the morsels that fall from his board.
Seven horses he keeps, though I know that he rides

In a stage every day of his life;
But of all his live stock—and he's others besides--

The most costly, I hear, is his wife.

Mrs. Pilpay's the fashion, as far as the art

Of Madame Le Marabout goes;
Her bonnets break many a feminine heart,

And the neighbors cabal o'er her clothes.
How she rustles along to her pew in Grace Church,

Most smilingly marshaled by Brown !
While poor I for some corner laboriously search

To escape that great autocrat’s frown.

Mrs. Pilpay kneels close to the altar, while I

Can scarce catch a glimpse of the shrine; I wonder if He for whose mercy we cry

Hears her prayers any better than mine! Does she pray? That's the question. For sometimes I've seen

In her hands books suspiciously boundStrange volumes got up in unorthodox green,

And heathenish gilding all round !

Mrs. Pilpay's on every Wednesday “at home”

To all of her sex, save her spouse;
He on such state occasions is bound not to come

Within ten rifle-shots of his house.
For a husband is all very well in his place

Which means, in his office down-town;
But his presence would carry uxorial disgrace

Were he seen in the circles of Brown.

Mrs. Pilpay a very fine woman is thought,

Tall, dashing, and haughtily bred;
A splendid complexion-I know where 'tis bought!

Raven hair-but no more on that head !
I've heard people say she was gay, indiscreet,

And point with a smile at the “boss ;"
But, bless you, he's too much engaged in “the Street"

With his profit, to think of his loss!

Many times at my desk, when the checks I fill out

For the thousands we daily disburse,
And I've lunched upon crackers and apples, and doubt

If I've got fifty cents in my purse,
I think, spite of Pilpay's magnificent life,

Splendid wife, splendid house, and the rest,
I have got a home too, and a dear little wife

That I would not exchange for his best.

My home's but an attic—a back one, what's more;

Our carpet was bought second-hand ;
Wife makes up the bed, cooks the meals, sweeps the floor,

Nor e'en to mend shirts is too grand.
And in one of the coziest ends of the room,

Snugly nestled 'mid curtains of white,
Lies a blest little angel, of heavenly bloom,

Familiarly called “ Heart's Delight !"

My home's rather poor, as you see, but I swear

There is sunshine all over the place-
A sunshine that breaks from my wife's golden hair,

And baby's miraculous face!
It gilds the bare wall with a magical tone ;

It turns our plain platters to gold;
Yet we have not got that alchemistical stone

So sought by the sages of old.

My wife does not purchase her dresses up-town,

And seldom gets any thing new;
But she makes better show with a dimity gown

Than I think Mrs. Pilpay could do.
Her bonnet needs no finer roses than those

That ruddily glow in her cheeks;
Nor has Mrs. Pilpay such pearls as the rows

That glisten whenever she speaks.

So though I'm a small clerk with Plutus Pilpay,

And am shabbily-coated, I fear-
And although he is worth seven hundred a day,

And I seven fifty a year-
I'm richer than he in the treasures of life,

In spite of his horses and house ;
For when I was wedded I married a wife,

While he was fobbed off with a spouse !

RACHEL'S REFUSAL.

Because there will be no end to the peria “The soul has inalienable rights, and the first of these patetic patients to overrun your woods and is love."

hills : sick school-girls; renewable belles; parA JUNE morning blessed the earth with fra- sons with bronchitis ; lame old beaux ; super

grance and dew, and Rachel, standing on annuated professors ; interesting dyspeptics ; the threshold with a little sun-bonnet in her and, last and worst, strong-minded women." hand, lingered a moment to look; the bonnet Rachel laughed merrily at the climax. was only in her hand, for her pale, dark com “Why do you hate them so bitterly?” said plexion feared no New-England sunshine. she. “Did you ever see or know one ?”

As she stepped into the scented grass that “ Heaven forbid !" waved its tiny brown spires about the door-step, “I have,” said Rachel, meditatively. I the full morning sun lit her heavy braids with once saw a Woman's Rights Convention." that hue beloved of old in the dear Italian land, “You !" said I, utterly astonished at the a gold-threaded darkness, that matched well the idea. fire and sweetness of her deep eyes-eyes that “Yes; I went with full intention to see what had a blue expression and a black depth. this odd and painful insurrection of a sex could

Rachel was a singular compound-she was mean. I went to find out women's rights, and neither beautiful nor pretty, but peculiarly at- I only heard their wrongs-not their wrong." tractive. No one passed or met her without There was a deep, pathetic vibration in her asking her name, and every where she went she tone as she stopped, and my lips opened to was afterward remembered with a sudden thrill question her further, when with a sudden exof interest and feeling. Part of this was owing clamation of delight she sprang forward like a to her aspect; tall, slight, at times haughty, yet child, and grasping the stem of a tall kalmia, free and careless in action as a deer; eyes that bent its crowned head down for me to see. oftenest spoke the soul of softness, yet, forever “Is not that lovely ?” said she. changeful, could burn with passion, flash with “ Beautiful !-beautiful and strange," said I, anger, or crystallize with scorn ; a head power- answering my thought rather than her words ; ful and noble; a figure transfused into grace- for the picture was singularly charming; her fulness by the power of vivid emotions; a voice face, wan, spiritual, and unearthly in its brillthat vibrated to every thought within ; a fluency iant and rapid expressions, surrounded by a of speech as marked and expressive in her as it cloud of those perfectly-tinted, roseate inexis wont to be vapid and insignificant in other pressive blooms. Life, love, intelligence-and women; and a certain picturesqueness of dress for its shadow beauty, proud and fatally honeyand attitude that suited her—and suited me, for ed, inodorous, soulless. I loved her.

Far beyond, the hemlock wood was full of We were on our way to the woods that divine dawn-pink blossoms, each tiny and quaintlysummer morning, she said, to gather kalmia angled cup as perfect as if it were the sole flowblossoms for a wedding in the village. I knew er of earth-some clusters white as clouds at we went for another purpose-to decide once noon, except for the deep crimson specks and for all how blessed or how bleak my life should lines within-others delicately flushed like snowbe; but that I alone knew.

drifts at sunsetting--and others yet of that deep, Slowly we ascended the road up the hill-side, cool pink that precedes a Spring morning, and both silent; the sweet odors of June hung del- foretells an April day of showers. icate spells in the dew-freshened air, the keen Soon were Rachel's arms filled; and as the mountain-wind slept, and the morning shadows day was yet in its early hours, we wandered lay long and light across the red road. My down a well-known path that brought us to a silence was heavier than hers, for she spoke rude and rocky seat on the edge of Nepasset first.

brook, which brawled loudly beneath us, and “Look there, Fred!"-we were remotely con- silvered the gray rocks with ripples and foam. nected, and improved the link into cousinship, I took from Rachel her gay burden, and anchor“ now do you see Gray Lake ?”

ing the stems with a stone in a tiny bay of the I followed the direction of her "spirit-small brook, that they might not wither, we both sat hand," and caught a sparkle of water in the edge down, and for a moment sat in silence — the of a deep shadow cast by the village mountain. clean, aromatic odor of the hemlocks, the irre

“Is it there the water-cure is established, pressible mirth and warble of the water, the soft Rachel?”.

wind that whispered above us, and then died “Yes. Dr. Villeneuve, an old Frenchman, away in a vague murmur, wandering through has bought the old Pine Woods factory, and is the woodsmall these, with mystical charm, laid fitting it up for a boarding-house, and laying silence upon our lips like a finger; and when pipe from the lake for baths."

Rachel spoke at last, she said, ". There's an end to the peace of Taunton," “I used to come here with Ellen.” said I, as we turned off the high-road into a Ellen was my dead wife; and now I loved wood-path dim with foliage, and full of the in- Rachel. Yet I had loved my wife truly, and as describable forest scents that whoever has trod. a man loves the woman he marries for love. den therein knows, but can not analyze. She was tender, impulsive, imperfect; good and “Why?” said Rachel, wondering.

gentle to me, if not to others. I did not worVol. XV.-No. 90.-3 E

ship, but I loved her deeply. She left me one er one deep and unconfessed wrong that is their little child, and died.

peculiarly. They would all be happy and quiet They misjudge men who say they can love if men knew how to rule them. Evil or misbut once.

I believe it is true of women; but taken rule underlies all rebellion." rarely, almost never, of men.

“What is the matter with man's rule, that I loved Rachel now as I had never loved be- you charge it with such entire failure ? Are we fore. I knew her to be my superior in genius, all tyrants ?" in education, in character, but also to have un “No, only unconsciously in the wrong, most der these traits the fervent and deep heart that of you. There is but one way to guide women, is the pre-eminent heritage of such a character; and that is to love them enough. Women do and while she satisfied my mind and elevated not live happily from reason, or in duty merely. my life by her unconscious greatness and good- Their fullest life is in emotion—a thing that is, ness, I knew she had it in her power to fill my in old Sir Thomas Brown's quaint phrase, “an heart in its unsounded depths with love so in- arabesque,' only to men.” tense, so pure, so vivid, that I trembled at the “But your strong-minded women do not say mere and audacious imagination that it might so, Rachel. Indeed, I think they would conbe mine. Here I had come to ask it; and she sider themselves insulted by your view of the had even here spoken of my dead wife softly, subject.” tenderly, reverently--for she, too, had loved her, Very possibly. They do not all know it and knew my sorrow at her loss. I took the consciously. They attempt to be reasonable tiny hand that lay upon the rock beside me and that they may insure a hearing from men, who kissed it. She knew that I thanked her, yet she always call loudly for reasons; and women, sighed, and cast a little flower I had given her far having no more rational answer to give than into the water. Then we both sat speechless. their own instinctive nature affords, go seeking

A sudden start of Rachel's aroused me. Her after some more common and better-appreciated face was of a deadly pallor, and the teeth set in truth-rake up from the dust of years all their her small lip, while both hands were pressed inequalities in the social scale for a special preupon her side till the veins grew cord-like un- text, and then illogically go on to wrangle for der the fine skin.

power, hoping thereby to compel peace. Do “Rachel, what ails you ?” said I, alarmed at you suppose any woman would care a straw for her expression of anguish. She turned her her own property or individual prerogative if large eyes toward me, and tried to smile. She her husband loved her well and truly enough to could not speak, but that look was more painful make her feel her self lost and gained in him?" than a shriek.

I smiled involuntarily, thinking how Rachel I dipped some water from the brook in a leaf betrayed her habitual views and most peculiar and brought it to her, and I saw that the living characteristic in this view of the case; but I ancolor had returned to her face, the bitten lip was swered, with grave earnestness, released, and though she panted and was speech “Are all women capable of that devotion and less, the stress of pain was evidently past. She disinterestedness ?" leaned her head upon the rock against which That is begging the question, Fred. I am the seat rested, and I could see the grasp of not speaking of exceptions, but generalities. I suffering release its hold, her hands relax, and know there are some bad, selfish, ambitious, and her whole aspect assume that languor which fol- mercenary women in the world, whom no man lows such pangs.

She turned toward me with a could love or rule, because they are far worse lovely smile, recognizing my anxiety, and said, than any bad men; but as a general thing, wo“It was only a side-ache, Fred.”

men can be made happy and guided by any men “But do you see no physician-take nothing who love them, and are not too proud or too selffor it?" said I.

ish to demonstrate it.” “Yes, I asked the doctor. He says I must “Rachel! Rachel! what heresy to your sex! only be patient while it lasts."

Is not a woman a rational creature ?" " And he thinks it will leave you in time ?" “Yes, in a measure, but far more an emo

“Yes," said she, but with a strange vibration tional one ; and every thing in this world grows in the tone that haunted me long after, and now as it was made in the beginning, after its kind. haunts me forever.

If a columbine lives and glitters in the cleft of I thought then she was nervous possibly, and a rock, fed by sun and dew, will you try to show that my kindest act would be to divert her a me that it ought to have tubers at its root bemoment from herself-an easy task with her, cause potatoes do, and they are both plants ?" who scarcely had a self; so I said,

I laughed at the illustration, and Rachel “You were speaking of women's wrongs, flushed with a little scorn. Rachel. Do you, then, believe their so-called "What makes you laugh? I wonder if there rights to be but the antithetical expression of was ever a man made, who gave a woman credthese wrongs ?"

it for any candor!" A little spark glimmered in her eye and fired “I do, Rachel; but your illustration amused her cheek.

I think you are right in a measure, but “I think them less than that, Fred. Wo-recollect, all these women are not dependent on men's rights are mere pretexts, assumed to cov-men; how many of the strong-minded are un

me.

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