SONNET ON APRIL. BY GRACE AGUILAR. Then comes fair April, a coquettish maid, Yet warmly smiling when bright Spring appears- But other days had seen that woe-worn dame In merry glee and sportive feat employ'd ; Had known her cheer'd by love's most sacred flame, Had found her chart of bliss without a void : But ah! too oft when peace is most enjoy'd, Wakes the grim whirlwind-and by sorrow's shades Are all the smiling buds of bliss destroyed, Ere one vague warning fear the breast pervades ! Her husband, he-the chosen one-whose heart So long had throbbed in unison to hers, Whose constant care was ever to impart The purest joy a virtuous love confers, Had waked the vengeance of a secret foeSaint Alban fell beneath th' assassin's blow! Aud since that morn, when, bathed in life's red gore, The form of him she loved, low, prostate laid, Her eyes beheld, hath reason fled. No more The gentle being, who in smiles arrayed Had moved a seraph through the hamlet-glade, Was she her spirit roused to frenzied ire! 'Twas said, at midnight's hour when demons strayed Over the world, she'd seek yon Abbey's choir- And oft was heard with theirs that voice to join When whirlwinds raved, and lightning round her played! Full many a time the hind, benighted here, Hath seen her sit on yonder sea-beat rock; While voices, more than one, have reached his ear Mingling tones loud and wailing with the shock Of the wild waves below; then would there break On his 'mazed sense such soft melodious strain, As filled his raptured mind with thoughts that wake Ideas bright of heaven-until, again Resounding on the gale, the shriek of pain Shook every nerve with wonder and dismay; Then, panic-struck, his hut he'd strive to gain, The while full many an "ave" would he say, Casting in haste a shuddering look behind, Where stood that lady screaming to the wind! There, every night, her vigil doth she keep, When mild the weather, or when tempests rave; Her chilly couch that rough and rugged steep, Yet ne'er hath one that lady heard complain, Nor seen her shiver in the spiteful storm; Its beauty still her tall majestic form: For she was dear to all, to all a friend; The drums and rattles of the child are objects of unalloyed delight, but the playthings of the man are grave and terrible delusions. They goad him with secret thorns that rankle in his heart for ever. Envy, avarice, and ambition, mingle their poison in his sweetest cup. Even his superior knowledge is but a source of evil. It surrounds him with temptations, while it throws a shadow upon all his hopes, and takes off the bloom of life. It is too little for his mind, and too much for his heart.D. L. RICHARDSON. My professional career in London, though not so brilliant as my instructor foretold when he sacrificed the truth for my guineas, was still sufficiently profitable to render me contented; particularly after I had chosen a partner for life, whose harmony in chords produced a certain harmony in mingling my favourite colours of blue, red, and yellow; so true it is that music and painting are twin sisters: and so amusing became my occupation that I rarely regretted quitting my native place, although the mortifications I had now and then to endure were far more acute, when they did occur, than any that could have fallen to the share of Miss Bodkin's apprentices. There are many persons who cannot comprehend the difficulty of making a good picture out of a bad subject; in Dalton I knew nothing of achieving this triumph, but in the great metropolis, where in every street I found a rival, I was anxious to exert all my abilities; and that anxiety was sometimes the means of spoiling the only part which made the picture valuable (that is the likeness); however, on the whole I was tolerably successful. "I am told mine is a most troublesome portrait to take," said one of my visitors-a fat lady of doubtful age, after she had been occupying the best part of my day, in commenting upon the various specimens of my pencil which I had placed before her. Now I knew from experience that all vain persons felt exceedingly aggrieved at being told their faces were easy to paint, as it implied they had no more expression than one of those useful vegetables, a turnip or potato. So I promptly remarked to my guest that a miniature of her would require some degree of study. "How so?" said the portly dame, evidently pleased with my observation. "My features are regular and in keeping?" True," answered I, glancing at her little Chinese eyes, pug nose, and wide mouth; "but your character would be no light task to represent.' "Ah! its considered a great beauty, I believe, to have a varying countenance; but I'm sure it has given me plague enough," sighed Mrs. Jonas Smyth; "for no artist has yet been able to catch it." "Then you have sat before?" "Oh yes, often, till I was tired of being stared at-and such caricatures, were they not?" said the lady, addressing her young and delicate-looking companion, whom she had managed to keep standing from the moment she entered my house. The girl bent her head, but her reply was inaudible. "And now," said my tormentor, turning to me with a condescending smile, "can you positively take a good likeness?" "I cannot ensure one," was my answer; "there is no patent yet taken out for so desirable a certainty." The glorious sun in those days, contented with the great work assigned him by his Creator, had not begun business as a photogenic portrait painter, usurping privileges which had hitherto belonged only to the sons and daughters of earth. "Taking a likeness, madam, is not so easy as measuring a yard of tape; for when the artist has done his best, one mistaken finishing touch may annihilate every trace of resemblance." The lady's short face became an inch longer, and she internally resolved not to run the risk. "But," continued I, "my undeviating rule is satisfied.' never to part with the picture unless the sitter be Mrs. Jonas Smyth smiled again most graciously. "A capital rule, too, though not a golden one. No cure, no pay; that's my motto, isn't it, Miss Rushbrook?" Still the companion's voice was inaudible. "Goodness! what is the matter with you? Surely you are not going to annoy me by fainting?" "I do indeed feel very ill," said the unfortunate Miss Rushbrook, sinking exhausted upon the sofa. "Indeed, indeed, I cannot help it," and the tears streamed from her eyes at the impossibility of conquering the physical weakness which overpowered her. A little water, perhaps But before she could finish the sentence I was holding a glass of wine to her pale lips; and slowly the beautiful tint upon her cheeks reappeared. "There, that will do,” exclaimed her unfeeling patroness; you have played the heroine to perfection; but hysterics are not to my taste. Do I 66 as if ever I look," said she, addressing me, were guilty of such absurdity?" "No, Madam, I should never accuse you of the unfashionable crime of sensibility; for nothing," internally added, "could dwell in that inflated form but vanity and egotism.” Alas! for a companion, if she be endowed with feeling, a thousand times harder is her lot than that of the lowest menial; hers is the task to read aloud, with an untiring voice, the giant columns of the daily journals, from the leading article to the last of the advertisements; perchance she may be permitted to sit like an automaton in the carriage, not daring to encourage the affections of the little spaniel, who is longing to leave his mistress' lap for hers. Then there are the inattentions and hatred of the servants to endure, who give the nick-name of Toady to the humble and suffering dependent-the weary winter evenings succeeding the cold cheerless days, with no social sympathies to make the dull prosaic conversation interestingthe thoughts of early childhood, which will sometimes find vent in words, checked, as soon as uttered, by the unwilling listener, who likes no topic but her own. Oh, far, far better is the situation even of a governess than that of companion; in the former you may win the love of young and pure hearts→ with your pupils you may for some brief moments be once more a child. Poor Miss Rushbrook soon rallied, and the subject of sitters and sittings was again renewed, much to the satisfaction of Mrs. Jonas Smyth, who agreed it were better for me to take my apparatus to B-place, that I might see her arranged in her different dresses-from the white satin and gauze to the black velvet and bugles. Never shall I forget my trial of patience, as I assisted Miss Rushbrook in my new duties of lady's maid. The white satin and gauze made the complexion look a shade too yellow-a violet brocade was still worse-and the black velvet gave age, and recalled to poor dear Mrs. Jonas Smyth her first year of disconsolate widowhood, when custom compelled her to wear, much against her own choice, so unbecoming a colour. Eventually a bright amber robe was fixed upon-a pale blue scarf, and an apple-green turban embroidered with gold; to which was added a bird of Paradise. And the fair selector of these varied hues, charmed with herself and all the world, sat down before a Psyche-glass to practise the attitude of Juliet in the balcony. It was in vain I reminded my sitter she must now and then condescend to look at me; it was not likely she could turn from the reflection of such full-blown radiance to dwell upon a form so insignificant as mine. So I contented myself with taking the general outline, and washing in the green, the blue, and the amber; and left the features and ringletted wig for another sitting. Next morning, with a determination to be tempted to study nothing but the "human face divine," I was again seated in Mrs. Jonas Smyth's dressingroom; and as I concentrated all my powers into one focus the resemblance grew more and more alike, yet flattered; for I opened the eyes, lengthened the nose, and dimpled the mouth. In about a week my chef d'ouvre was all but completed, and, buoyant with the anticipation of a replenished purse (and I had then an invalid husband depending on my precarious employment), I once more presented myself before Mrs. Jonas Smyth; she was using some expressions of rage to her companion, whose pallid face but too plainly spoke of mental sufferings. The moment was an unlucky one, for the ruffled lady was in no mood to be pleased with anything; and, after my task was finished by a few careful touches, with fear and trembling I placed the picture in Mrs. Jonas Smyth's hands. None but a painter can understand the trying suspense which intervenes between the examination of a likeness and the expressed opinion of it. Few persons are able to judge of their own portraits; the impression they form of themselves is generally through the false medium of their mirrors; and the remark, "This cannot be like me," but too often falls on the ear of the sensitive artist. Mrs. Jonas Smyth gazed, with a thunder-storm gathering on her brow, and my spirits sank in dis may. This a resemblance of me, ma'am?" asked, or rather screamed, the infuriated lady. "This frightful, vulgar thing, me ?—and yet❞—she paused the brow cleared-the lips smiled-“Well, I declare, it is like!" My heart bounded with joy. "Yes," continued Mrs. Jonas Smyth, bursting into a loud laugh; "it is the very image-of yourself!-keep it, I beg; it is of no value whatever to me. And she flung the miniature down disdainfully on the table. Anger and pride sent back the tears which had started to my eyes from their hidden source; and I composedly erased with a sponge the work of many days, without one remark; and wished the lady good morning. In the hall I was met by the gentle companion, who had left the room at the climax of Mrs. Jonas Smyth's passion. "I would have warned you before-hand," said she, "what there was to expect. But do not be depressed; there are worse mortifications to endure even than yours, and truly can I feel for you. I am alone in the world, but you have ties-and I instinctively understand the chief source of your disappointment. You must accept this: nay, I insist," continued she, as I was going to return the little packet she squeezed into my hand. "It is the fee for my picture; seldom have I a gratified wish, but I will try and get a holiday, to sit to you, next week." She closed the street door upon me, without giving me time for a reply. As I bent my steps homeward, through the Regent's Park, never did nature wear, to me, so bright an aspect; yet the sky was obscured by wintry clouds, and the sleet was blown in my face by the north-east wind; but on every leafless tree I passed, and even every pinched and drooping form I met, the generous act of that lone girl had flung a veil of beauty, and who would not have encountered a hundred Mrs. Jonas Smyths to have known one Miss Rushbrook? How can we explain that mysterious and electric spark of sympathy which passes between two strangers, meeting for the first time? It makes the very atmosphere which they breathe redolent with the balm of human kindness, and yet possibly those two beings have not exchanged a sentence. Others, again, we intuitively dislike; their good looks and pleasant voices are of no avail, a chill and a shiver creep over us as we address them, or are addressed by them; the current of our ideas becomes frozen in our hearts before our lips can give them utterance; and we are joyless and ill at ease, until they have quitted our presence. My interest in Miss Rushbrook sprang up in an instant, and perished only in the grave. Did I say it perished there? Oh! no; for at this moment I fancy her beatified spirit watches anxiously over that gulf which separates us for a brief period. It was the hour of luncheon in B-place, and Mrs. Jonas Smyth was regaling herself with some ham and cold fowl, washed down by sundry glasses of cherished old port; her companion's fare was simply a biscuit and some toast and water; both were enjoying their respective reveries, when the servant announced Lord Dalemore. "Goodness!" said the lady, clearing her plate at one mouthful. "Goodness! how provoking that his Lordship has called at the moment I am the least fit to appear before him, for my nerves are quite shaken at the cool impertinence of Mrs. T., washing out that daub of hers, without saying with your leave or by your leave." "How do I look, Rushbrook?" (she always dropped the "Miss," when under any pleasing excitement), and Lord Dalemore, the friend of the defunct Mr. Smyth, was a rich bachelor, who occasionally amused himself with paying most audacious compliments to the fair widow. "Do tell me, dear, is the parting in my hair straight?" Now, as Mrs. Jonas Smyth's wig was a most rebellious one, continually moving from the right line, in defiance of all rules set down by the perruquier-first twisting and winding towards its mistress' right eye, and then coquetting with the left, which occasioned the lady's question-" is the parting in my hair straight?" But the wig had other vagaries, and would most spitefully, when in ill-humour, expose the few straggling grey locks which the merciless hand of time had left on the back of Mrs. Jonas Smyth's head, compelling her at last to be shorn of that last remnant of decayed loveliness, and submit to the operation of being shaved. But at this critical moment each jetty curl hung in its proper place, shadowing the rouged cheek with marvellous effect. The folds of the dark crimson lutestring were shaken out to display the richness of the material, and all looked in applepie order, as the animated lady desired Miss Rushbrook to pour her out one more glass of wine before the decanters were put under lock and key. "How delightfully you look this morning," said Lord Dalemore to the elated widow, after she had given him a warm reception. "Upon my honour, you should sit for a Hebe; and, by-the-by, I called to ask your opinion of this miniature;" and he put into her hand a richly embossed morocco case. "Very like; but it has not done you justice," exclaimed the widow. "You are too kind," said his Lordship; " but for the sake of a compliment, you must not endeavour to make me dissatisfied with the artist, for whom I feel much interest; and, to tell you a secret, I mean, my lady love,' who at present exists only in imagination, to sit to the same person. How well you would look in a miniature, the same size as mine! I wish I could prevail on you to give my favourite a sitting." "Oh, my Lord," said the lady, simpering and blushing, "I have had such a trial;"-but suddenly she paused, as a thought flashed across her mind. "It has not dimmed your bright eyes at any rate," quickly replied Lord Dalemore, who had dreaded a long story; " and I know no one who could do justice to your peculiar beauty but my little favourite. There is her address, and you would positively oblige me by giving her pencil such a chance: but, remember, I must see the first sketch; and now farewell," said the gallant Lord, kissing the tips of the fingers of the bewildered widow. "Goodness!" soliloquised Mrs. Jonas Smyth; "his Lordship can never but one thing by such marked attentions! How tender, too, was his expression! and how lucky I did not let the cat out of the bag, and give my opinion of his favourite!' Well, I must conciliate her, that's certain. Goodness! how can I do it?" and, after pondering some few minutes, the lady rung the bell for her companion. A bitter cold night bad succeeded a dismal day, but there was an air of comfort in my little sitting room that might have made the rich envious; the shutters were closed, the hearth was cleanly swept, and my dog and cat were stretched on the rug before the blazing fire. The tea-things were set, the toast was made, to which was added a plate of ham, as a compensation for my having been detained in B-- place much beyond our usual hour of dining; and I was, indeed, preparing to enjoy, with my dear invalid, that most social of all meals, to those who can scarcely devote more than ten minutes' leisure to their one o'clock mutton-chop ;-a late dinner being only suited to those who can indulge in the luxurs of the table, and are rich enough to doze away the dull evening which follows, unrefreshed by the early tea, which fits us for occupation till the hour of repose. Doctors may call the infusion of the Chinese leaf slow poison if they will; at any rate the aroma from it was most exhilarating, as I poured out the first cup, which was just raised to my lips when our trim maid-servant, to my great surprise, announced Miss Rushbrook. "I am come full of hope," said she, with a countenance beaming with smiles. "Mrs. Jonas Smyth is so vexed at her rudeness, she begs you will forgive it, and attempt her likeness once more." I shook my head mournfully, but I caught the imploring glance of my husband, and for his sake consented to undergo another trial. "Oh, thank you," said Miss Rushbrook, "and now, if you will accept my company, I can stay here for some time, for I have had permission without asking for it." Fresh tea was made, more toast was ordered, and the dog and cat stared with wonder at the unusual sound of merry voices; for even my invalid shook off his ailments as he looked upon the sparkling eyes of my new friend. How changed was she from the cold lifeless thing which she seemed in the presence of her employer! It was an evening of enchantment, such as I had not known since my abode with the clerk's wife in my peaceful and beloved Dalton; and the only cloud which shadowed its bright memory was the brief history which Miss Rushbrook related at parting. She was the only daughter of a rich merchant, whose wife deserted him when her first-born was but an infant; no wonder then her father screened his remaining treasure from all association with the world; placed in the care of a faithful nurse in one of those beautiful villas in the suburbs of London, Elizabeth Rushbrook remained, with no companions but her books and flowers, till she reached her eighteenth year. On the night of that fatal anniversary her beloved parent, for whose approach she was ac customed to watch with intense delight, was brought home a corpse. An agent, with whom he had entrusted large speculations, had absconded, and the merchant sank under this last blow-leaving his child the inheritor of his misfortunes and her mother's shame-legacies not likely to ensure her respect with the worldly-wise. But God, who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb," gave that young girl's spirit strength to battle with the storm; and, retiring to humble lodgings with her attached nurse, she advertised for the situation of companion, and was introduced to Mrs. Jonas Smyth, whose salary, trifling as it was, enabled Miss Rushbrook to give many little comforts to the kind attendant, who had been her second mother, and who died in peace, knowing that her foster-child had met with a respectable, if not a happy asylum. The following day I was again in B-place, and received with extraordinary condescension. "I understand," said Mrs. Jonas Smyth, at the conclusion of the sitting, "that Lord Dalemore has had his likeness painted by you-in fact, I saw the picture yesterday, and was so charmed with it I resolved to give you another chance." It is to my noble friend, then, thought I, that I owe this condescension. "Do you know Lord Dalemore, Ma'am?" "Most intimately; and as I found his Lordship evinced some interest about you, I determined not to tell him of your late failure." “I will, in return for your kind forbearance, do my best," said I, "to please you." And I cordially agreed with Miss Rushbrook that in the hardest heart there was some germ of good. On reaching home I found a fine bust of a Venus, sent me by my noble patron, with a note couched in the following terms: "Lord Dalemore presents his compliments to Mrs. T., and, having been fortunate enough to recommend her to Mrs. Jonas Smyth, he ventures to suggest that, in case that very particular lady consents to have her beauty immortalized, it would be wise of Mrs. T. to make the Venus di Medici her model, according to the story of the painter in Gay's Fables.” 231 "Nevertheless true," said I, and I related with enthusiasm all I knew of Miss Rushbrook. "I will ask Mrs. Smyth to introduce me, at once," vehemently exclaimed Lord Dalemore. "And ruin the poor girl," said I, reproachfully, "by arousing the jealousy of the lady." "Will you contrive my introduction?" I am too much her friend." "Certainly not. "Tell her, then, how much I admire her miniature." "That I will, with pleasure, when I go there to-night, my lord." "To-night?" said his lordship." "Yes. Mrs. Jonas Smyth gives a small party, and has graciously invited me.' "Indeed! But I trespass on your time; and will now take my leave, in the hope of again seeing you soon." At eight o'clock that evening I was dressed in the best my limited wardrobe afforded-white muslin, with a blue satin girdle, and a pair of black velvet bracelets, fastened with small diamond buckles, which had once ornamented the reverend knees of my great uncle, late Bishop of R~~; and during the many privations attending on my first marriage these were the only ornaments I could never be prevailed upon to part with. As I entered the brilliantly lighted drawing-room I saw, to my astonishment, Lord Dalemore stationed by the side of my hostess, whispering soft nothings in "I am an uninvited guest, her attentive ear. trespassing on the known hospitality of your kind patroness," said his lordship, with marked emphasis, addressing me; "but I could not resist calling on her at this very unusual hour, after my conversation with you in the morning, to personally thank her for the great interest she evinces in your welfare." Mrs. Jonas gave me a most patronizing smile, and I left the group to look for Miss Rushbrook, and warn her to avoid receiving the slightest attention: but there was no need; for, when she made her appearance soon after, in her quiet dress of half-mourning, with her golden tresses fastened at the back of her head with a pearl comb, Lord Dalemore gave her but one searching glance, and renewed his devotion to the mistress of the ceremonies with increased assiduity. And of infinite use the Venus proved; for I decked it in the green turban and amber dress, Mrs. Jonas Smyth certainly excelled in her perand put Mrs. Jonas Smyth in perfect ecstacies formance on the piano, and that night put forth with the youthful likeness I made. From that all her powers to captivate her noble lover, who hour she became my staunch patroness, and was was her shadow. At last Lord D. proposed her never happy except when I was at her house-playing one of his favourite waltzes; the electric tormenting me to death with questions of Lord Dalemore, whose visits to her were always the signal of banishment to Miss Rushbrook. "What a lovely face you are painting," said his lordship, on entering my studio one morning. "What a seraphic expression! wings are only wanted to make it one of Raphael's angels!" "She is one of God's already," said I, "though still walking this earth; but surely you know, my lord, for whom it is intended?" "No, I do not." "Why it is Mrs. Jonas Smyth's companion!" "That exquisite being companion to such a lump of presumption? Impossible!" chord was struck, the guests who had listened wearily to overtures and sonatas, and had got tired with the novelty of being in contact with a "live lord," instantly selected partners. I saw Lord Dalemore approaching Miss Rushbrook, and I instantly whispered her, "do waltz with me;" and before he could reach us we were mingling with the dancers; closer and closer they whirled past the presiding genius of the piano, when, jostled by the couples in the quick movement, the diamond buckle of my bracelet caught in the green turban of Mrs. Jonas Smyth; the turban was pinned to the unlucky wig, and in an instant both were jerked to the other part of the room, before I was |