to that class of the genus homo which indulges in elegant superlatives.) "If you mean Miss Sloman," replies the smiling Lizzy, "I must confess myself,, as you ask, 'in raptures with her ease and skill.'" "Will you honour me by bearing me company to her next feast of sweet sounds?" There is a dilemma for poor Lizzy! How she wishes some good angel had nipped that eloquent desire in the bud! At last she thought of a chance of escape, and replies, " as my friends say. You know, Mr. Singleton, that I am under their commands," sincerely wishing that he might not have the pleasure his words so elegantly expressed. She scarcely believed that having heard Miss S. some dozen times, they would care about accepting an invitation again, especially from such an attempt-at-brilliancy as he was. But in that hope Lizzy had not comfort long, for "his friend George Moore had," as Mr. Singleton observed, "just put into execution his intention of inviting the Misses Thorne, and they had accepted.' seeing that the party had been arranged before their visit by the two young men, and that her friends were pleased to favour them, she consented to accompany Mr. S. Common minds, that judge by flashy sentences and high-sounding words, call him "a very intelligent young man." How many receive the title, and exert themselves to sustain its dignity, while those to whom it is more due pass almost unnoticed in the crowd, because they do not care to have each passable thought tricked out in showy dress for mere effect. So Lizzy is weary of such beings and such scenes of party-makings as these, for evening after evening she must be from home, playing the agreeable from sheer gratitude for her companion's politeness, if nothing else. "Tis indeed "distance that lends enchantment to the view," she often thought, as she reflected on the life she led, and yet she could not refuse to enter into the pleasure parties continually formed, for that might make her appear "odd;" a little word that has often conquered a larger and better-resolution. But Mr. Singleton interrupts our philosophizing by begging Miss Grey for one of her sweet ballads, very naturally supposing that in return for his compliment, she would, by-and-by, request to hear some flourishing strains of his own. Without a word of faint remonstrance, and then excuses for a distressing cold it would seem some sudden draught had just inflicted, Lizzy smilingly consents to do her best for the amusement of the little circle, and soon are heard those very expressive, if not very rare exclamations of "charming" and "delightful," which are quite necessary to fill up the rather embarrassing pauses between the pieces, when something must be said. So passes the evening in light badinage, and the unprofitable criticisms of unprofitable things. Now with graceful bow and last word of gallantry, the gentlemen depart. As yielding as Lizzy has been to the influence of her friend's companionship, and seemingly as thoughtless and as happy as they, yet as she lays her head upon her pillow, she sighs in thinking how her uoble-hearted Frank (so different as he was from the mere imitators of such as he, around her) would disapprove the waste of intellong-fringed lids are closed, and she is sleeping lect and heart in which she was indulging. The how that even youth and beauty have common lot now, but the tearful moisture of the cheek tells with all who dwell in the valley of discontent. The sun has shown his bright face above the house-tops, and has even peeped into Lizzy's chamber, but she still remains in that weakening slumber of the morning sluggard, and will not arouse herself until the voice of the second bell' calls her to the late breakfast. A few months ago she would at this invigorating hour have been feeding her birds, or reading some book which Frank had recommended. How great is the power of habit and influence of those with whom we hold daily domestic companionship! The day is passed in preparation for the ball: then comes the business which owes its life to the world's scorn of such fanciful ideas as, that "loveliness needs not the aid of foreign ornament," &c., &c. Lizzy's rounded shoulders almost blush to be so unprotected in that splendid dress. Yet no one can help loving her, she looks so charming! Mary and Caroline too look beautiful. "The carriage is waiting, ladies," says the servant at the door, and with a last sly glance at the mirror, which tells such a pleasing tale, they trip in high spirits through the hall, and seating themselves for their ride with the most devoted consideration for the welfare of their outward adornments, are driven to the scene of gaiety. Mrs. R.'s ball was, as every one said, "a splendid affair;" yet it passed off as all balls do, wearying in the end the entertainer, and the entertained. Lizzy entered with her whole heart into its exciting changes-the music's stirring strains, the graceful dance, and even the merry conversation between belle and beau, forgetting in the dazzling scene all feelings of self-reproach. So light-hearted in her appearance, and with a face which added to its regular features and clear complexion the more fascinating beauty of archness and the charm of youth, she attracted the notice of a stranger like herself, with an eye peculiarly susceptible of loveliness, whether it lay embosomed among flowery hills, or sparkled in the human face divine. He had not been observed before at any such fashionable gathering, and when as a new star his name was asked, and very natural questions respecting matrimonial prospects (for very fine-looking was the new comer) passed round from rosy mouths, no information could be obtained but that he was a friend of Mrs. R.'s, who had lately come to the city, and entered upon the practice of law. He was introduced to our sweet friend, and they talked of trifles as their neighbours did, until they seemed aware that they mutually enjoyed a taste for better things, when they insensibly fell into intelligent converse respecting the present signs of the literary times. The stranger, first won by her gentle beauty, and then charmed by the jewels of her mind, which sparkled with laughing brightness, made himself her shadow for the remainder of the evening; and she, finding him so much like her own dear absent Frank, permitted and enjoyed | talked together of country happiness (and oh! how his marked attention. The ball is over, and in their own apartment the sisters are conning over the page of incidents which the hand of time has so freshly written. Their ball dresses, heavy with richness, have been hastily and wearily thrown aside, and soon they seek repose with an aching void at heart. Oh, how few there are who lay their heads upon their pillows after such an evening of fashionable show and rivalry, with a happy feeling of content and peacefulness! Some envied notice given to a lovelier friend, some richer dress, some careless word remembered with a sigh, make the weary heart more weary still, and the couch designed for rest unfaithful to its office. But Lizzy has one pleasant memory to lighten that weary spirit, and that is of the new acquaintance she has formed, whose friendship she sincerely hopes will be less fleeting than the gay scene in which it first existed. "He seems so much like Frank, dear Frank," she murmurs, fondly gazing on her lover's features as they smile upon her from among the cast-off ornaments of the ball. She, too, soon seeks needed rest, but not until a well-filled letter, bearing a late date, has been most carefully read through, from " My own sweet Lizzy," to " your devoted eloquent was Lizzy !) and the surest way of gaining true contentment in this fleeting world. They read together such entertaining and instructive works as Edward's fine taste approved, and let the untiring seekers of public wonders see that they rather preferred sweet home's retirement, preventing by this means a repetition of entreaties for their attendance at the party or the ball. But such innocent happiness as they now enjoyed, was to be disturbed by the world's coming 10. Edward's visits were first whispered of, and then smiled at by those who watch the merest approach to what they call "intentions." How could the handsome, intelligent Edward, escape their Argus eyes? So, soon it was a settled thing that our pure-hearted, loving Lizzy, had proved inconstant to her first vow, and that the young lawyer had won her for himself. It was not often does the far-sighted spirit of evil smile at until Caroline Thorne "congratulated" her (how that Lizzy's eyes were opened to the consesuch congratulations) upon her new engagement, quences attending the innocent indulgence of a pleasant friendship. She had become a victim to that most evil law, by which the single of the sexes their hearts they cherish as sweet and pure a love are branded with the yoke matrimonial, even if in as moves a brother's or a sister's spirit. Oh, why is it so? Why, because the youth of one sex love And in this way day after day has passed away the company of the gentle and refined, should they in the life of our friend. She had entered the vortex of fashionable society as she had wished, and Let but a gentleman be seen courting the society be mated and paired off whether they will or no? it had carried her the usual brilliant, unsatisfying of a fair friend, and not only will the engageround. Her mind seemed weakened with unprofit-ment be a settled matter, but the weddingable thought, and her conscience often whispered in the voice of Frank, "Lizzy, Lizzy, thou wert not born, remember, to waste the precious hours of youth in idleness or vain pursuits, but to lay up treasures of gladness for the coming on of impotent old age. Oh, mournful thought, that in the high places of earth, woman oftentimes forgets the wisdom of living for a noble end! Beware lest thy heart, Lizzy, lose its native purity." Frank," day itself appointed! And I can tell from fear to follow even courtesy's necessary rules, my own experience, that there are some who having the consequent question, "are you engaged?" ringing in their ears. I speak most eloquently; for one long, long day ago, a day of dangerous walking from snow and ice, my gentleman companion neglected to offer me the needed support of his stronger arm, for very fear of the "report" that might spread abroad! I felt it to be a strange offering to my vanity, and even now sigh to think that the tale is "ower true!" And she began to remember and beware, and sick at heart of all the flatteries and all the show of her present life, she welcomed the friendly intercourse of one sympathizing with herself, as if But I must go back to Lizzy. She knew that, he had come from her own dear, quiet home, and in a pretty village of Vermont, whence Stanwood had always been a brother to her. Her wild spirits came, there lived his chosen one; Lizzy could have had been kept in check by society's cold forms, told the very house she dwelt in, Edward had so and the kindly hinted counsel of her stately loved to tell over and over again the story of his friends; and oh! how she longed for the old fami-wooing. But he was to call that evening, and she liar haunts, that she might laugh one ringing laugh again, bounding as gaily as she pleased along, and have one near who would love her even better for the joyful gushing out of her glad spirit! The time for her visit had nearly passed; but since she had met Edward Stanwood at the ball, her hours had not been so unimproved or tedious as before. He, a stranger in the city, had felt much gratified in finding so soon almost a home at Mr. Thorne's. Seeing that he was pleased with Lizzy, the sisters bade him consider their doors as always open to him, when he felt his loneliness, and would enjoy a tête-à-tête with their sweet guest. And it was not long before he became a constant visitor. They awaited with some trepidation his appearance, not knowing how he might receive the story, which she believed it best to let him know, that he might act accordingly. When he entered, there was a slight shadow on his open brow, as if he were grieved at something, and on its being noticed by his young friend, he whispered that after Mary and Caroline had gone to the party for which they were prepared, he would explain. The friends were soon left together, and Edward broke the silence after their departure, with an exclamation of impatience against the tongue of man, which for so small a member did such incalculable mischief. Then he uttered glowing censures of the world's false views of friendship, which made Lizzy conscious that the report of their engagement had reached his ears. Glad that he knew the burden of her present thoughts, she could not help wondering at his strange excitement, yet smilingly begged to know if he "felt sufficiently submissive to resign his beloved Ella in accordance with the world's decree?" "I have just received a letter from Ella," replied Edward, with the faintest smile possible, "and you shall read it, for I need some gentle, sympathizing voice, to soothe iny excited nerves.' And Lizzy, with surprise and sorrow, learned from it that some one, just from the city, in passing through the village where Ella dwelt, had, with a sudden friendly interest, told the story of Edward's new engagement with all the adornments it had acquired in travelling so far. She could not believe the tale; and yet how strong the evidence! This very gentleman had heard a friend declare, that Edward had spoken openly in his presence of the fact. (Edward had once said carelessly, that Miss Grey and he were both engaged; in repeating which sentence the listener merely left out by accident of course-one little word-both-which made some difference in the prospects of the pair.) Ella, trusting still in Edward's faith, took the best means to ascertain the truth, by writing a kind, sweet, womanly letter to him, breathing confidence in his love, but giving a minute detail of all the seeming proofs she had received to test it. To show the perfect faith she felt in the continued strength of his attachment, and the powerless influence of the testimony brought against it, she had acceded to the desire of a friend that she should officiate as bridesmaid at her marriage, and would be in Boston soon; that is, if Edward would leave his new friend to be Ella's companion for the evening, as she cheerfully added, fearing that his sensitive spirit might yield to despondency, if he believed her in the least moved by the idle sayings of a mischief-loving world. Long the friends talked, and Lizzy succeeded in sweetening Stanwood's bitter feelings against the serpent slander, which had entered his paradise at home, but had not leftblessings on the trusting heart of his own Ella-the direful consequences it had conceived. Lizzy enthusiastically declared her hope that Ella might arrive before she left, for she knew she should love her as a sister for the noble spirit she had shown, in not trusting to a stranger's word in matters that concerned her happiness. And Edward left Mr. Thorne's with a lighter heart than when he entered, and with a deeper feeling of attachment for the sweet girl whose voice had soothed him; so surely does the praise of those we love, from friendly lips, make the faces of such friends more lovely and more dear than ever to us. Lizzy's hope was gratified: several weeks before she expected Frank to take her home, Ella arrived; and Edward, having conducted Lizzy to the house of Ella's friend, had the satisfaction of seeing, before the introductory visit was over, that she for whom he felt a brother's love, and the dear one who was to be his bride, had conceived a mutual esteem, which he prayed might know no de | cline, when the wisdom of age might make them clearer-sighted and less enthusiastic. During the remainder of Lizzy's visit they saw each other daily, and the contrast Ella presented to Caroline and Mary Thorne, made our well-awakened friend less pleased than ever with their companionship. The remainder of her visit is passed in a far happier way than its gay opening, because her conscience has no stinging voice, and the prospect of her sweet home, of parents, and village friends, becomes nearer and dearer to her longing eyes. And the day of departure is fixed upon. Edward would accompany them with Ella, did not business prevent, but has promised to leave the heated city for the cool banks of their native stream some time during the sunmer months, and that will be very soon. Now for the last time Lizzy lays her head upon the pillow, which has been wet with many a tear of self-reproach, but is now of refreshing sweetness to a head which knows no weight of casual sorrow. The morning dawns. Many an affectionate parting word is spoken, for the gay sisters are good-hearted girls, as I have said before, and had been kind, very kind in their way, to their young guest. There is even a tear in Lizzy's eye as she watches them, while they stand gazing after the carriage which bears their light-hearted, sweettempered companion towards her home. It was soon, however, dried by joy, for at the depôt they unexpectedly find Edward and Ella, who had some days before arranged to bear them company, and designed this little surprise. Not a more joyous travelling party could have been found than this, or a more united. With the love of nature so glowing in their bosoms, they could not fail in eloquent conversation for the whole length of the way, and when they arrived at Mr. Grey's, there was a tender greeting for the friends of their beloved child from her parents, even in the tearful joy of seeing her again. And now will I again exert my mesmeric power, and "will" you to look upon our Lizzy and her guests before we part. I write down your words. "What a sweet spot is this! The river-the green banks-the glowing sky! And that merry laugh! 'Tis Lizzy's, I well know. Let me peep into this arbour, here. There they sit, Lizzy and her friend, with coarse stuff for garments lying around, upon which they are at work, At their feet, upon the grassy floor, are Edmund and Frank, the latter reading an amusing work, which just called forth that merry note from Lizzy, who fears not now the censure of fashion's tutored lips. The garments are for the poor of the village there is no doubt; and oh, how the glances of pure affection and trust, and approbation, are raised to the sweet faces of those gentle girls, by those whose hope of happiness and peace depends upon their views of woman's duty, and her truest bliss." That is surely a pleasant picture you have described, and I must admire without flattering that beauty of expression in the finale of my tale with which you have aided me. And now, my reader companion, we must part. If I have given you a moment's pleasure by my companionship, or impressed upon your heart a distaste for any of the A MARCH SONG. false customs of the world, I will rejoice that we have met, and be encouraged to seek your fellowship again. A MARCH SONG. There's a charm abroad, o'er the earth and air, And sweet from the leafless woods are heard, Though the trees are brown, and the hedge-rows bare, How can men say that the world is lone Then say not Poesy's dreams are vain, Though the glows which kindled that heart wax And we dream no more as we dream'd of old; THE BRIDAL. 245 (Written on witnessing a Sun-rise from the Sea shore.) BY ELIZA LESLIE. Morning's dim mysteries around are flung, But clouds, like hope and fear, alternate driv'n Faint, and more faint, her crimson blushes show: SONGS FOR STRAY AIRS. No. I. THE MOURNER'S HOPE OF IMMORTALITY. German air-The drinking chorus in Robert le No more we grieve, for see, the day is breaking; "Tis past, 'tis past, the time of woe and gloom; His sleep is sad, but bright will be the waking, And light shall dawn triumphant from the tomb. What though the form, we lov'd so well, be shrouded Low in earth, to moulder into clay? The soul! the soul! by sin no more o'erclouded, Bursts its bonds and soars to endless day. The lamp is quench'd, the silver cord is broken, The chain is loos'd, the weary captive flown; The word, the word, the blessed word is spoken, A crown awaits the victor's triumph known. And shall we mourn because the grave's dark portal Hides that face for ever from our eyes? The soul! the soul! eternal and immortal, Bursts its bonds, and seeks its native skies. D. M. M. In adapting these words, the air should be played rather slowly, and with solemnity. TELMELAH AND KORAH. (A Tale of Cashmere.) BY EDWARD GLADSTONE. sages, the wisdom and laws of our holy prophet. 'Tis true, she would often change the subject of our converse, to the most elegant mode of dress now worn by the maidens of our valley, or the beauty of the sons of our land, admiring the raven The broad moon was rising in splendour overlocks of one, the sunny cheek or pearly teeth of the gay and flowery valley of Cashmere, when young Korah wandered, silent and unhappy, up the hill-side that skirts the city on the west, till he at last arrived at a small green mound, covered with fresh flowers, and hung in never-fading wreaths at the head of the tomb. The surrounding scene seemed well to accord with the tenor of his mind. At his feet lay the city, sleeping in the pale moonlight, with its calm lakes, and gardens of roses. He sat himself down on a stone near a spring, that trickled down the hill, and overcome with his feelings of melancholy sadness, burst into a passionate flood of tears. "Alas!" exclaimed he-"alas! my unhappy fate! There, where I thought all was goodness, to meet with this bitter return!" others; still I thought she loved me, and parted from her in peace. When last our glorious Sabbath rose with the morning's beam, returning from the worship of our holy prophet, reading the sacred Koran, I saw, 'midst a grove of cedars, the woman whom my soul adored-oh, misery-I saw her in converse deep with another! She smiled in fondness, as she never smiled on me; his arm encircled her slight and delicate waist-that accursed arm, where mine had so often been entwined, usurping a place I had almost thought it too much bliss to touch. My blood boiled in every vein, and methinks I could have slain him! But I left the spot, my heart torn and crushed with anguish, too heavy for me to bear; night and day have I wandered, yet my soul can know no rest. Oh, holy father, if thou canst help me, have pity on my tor tured mind!" "My son, sit by me, and listen. I entered the world at your age, with the same feelings as your self. I thought them all pure, virtuous, innocent, and beautiful; in fact, I believed them to be angels. I loved, and strove without distinction, to please and oblige all. Alas! vain hope! What was the result? I met with insult, hatred, laughter, scorn; my feelings were outraged by those very women I most strove to oblige. Then arose a new era in my existence. I retired, with a crushed and wounded spirit, to my studies, blaming and accusing the whole sex, and thinking them un Ere he was conscious that he was not alone, he felt a hand gently pressing his shoulder, and, on looking up, beheld the aged form of one of the many hermits who inhabit the cells on the hill-side to the westward of the city. His form was tall and commanding, though fourscore years and upwards; his hair and beard were of the whiteness of the virgin snow that crowns the hoary summit of Caucasus, and in appearance he seemed to rival it in majestic grandeur. His robes flowed loosely around his formi, and gently waved in the soft wind of the evening. Placing his hand on Korah's shoulder, he, in accents of kindness that allayed all fear, thus addressed him: “Wherefore, ob, my son, seekest thou the lone cell of the aged Tel-worthy the serious thoughts of man. I grew older, melah? Why weepest thou in sadness, and utterest thy wailings to the evening breeze? Repose in me all thy grief, and I may find a balm for thy wounds." "Alas! good father," exclaimed he, "your kindness can profit me nothing: the only happiness left me is to fade, like one of the roses of our own valley, that in the morn is blooming in beauty, and in the evening is plucked, and mournfully withers away!" "But," replied Telmelah, "know you not, my son, that our holy prophet has said, 'Nothing is impossible to the true believer? Tell me, then, thy story, and I will assist thee with my prayers and advice; my experience may avail, for in the multitude of years is much wisdom." "Know, then, father, that the cause of all my sorrow, all my misery, is woman! I saw the dark-eyed maidens that wander through our flowery vale, making it glad with their musical voices-I saw them, and my young heart swelled with affection to all; but one more beautiful than the rest engaged my particular attention. I loved her, for she was bright as the noonday sun: her beauty was constantly in my thoughts; I paid her those honours with which man strives to win the love of woman; she smiled on me, and I was happy. I walked with her through fields of flowers, not more sweet than herself, and talked of the beauties of all around, the learning of our wiser, and I hope better; my studies gave me judgment and discrimination. I once more ventured into the society of woman. I was reserved and cautious, and, instead of opening my heart, and exposing it to the slights of every giddy, mindless thing with a pretty face, I learned to look at the mind--that bright gem-that masterpiece of an Almighty hand! I conversed with them-I studied them attentively; and then I found the folly, the wickedness, the injustice of my sus picions, for then I discovered a being whose converse was like hers of ancient fable, who dropped pearls and diamonds at every breath: on her lips hung the most eloquent sweetness. Her voice was like the soft, wild melody of warbling waters, sweet as distant music, borne on the evening's wing across the silver lakes of sunny Cashmere. Her hair shone like the raven curls of the Houris of Paradise; her teeth, her lips, her breath, were like the pearly dew on perfumed roses; her soft, dark eyes spoke the language of her soul; her whole features beamed with mind; while a pensive beauty played on all, and in grace and gentleness she outrivalled the gazelle of our native hills. "My son, in converse with this creature of light, I found myself a new and exalted being; a pure and holy feeling took possession of my breast, a feeling that in all my young and early attachments I had never felt before. It crept over my soul like the soft twilight stealing over our sunny |