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chaise bad turned the corner and was out of sight.

The Signora received her daughter with every demonstration of affection.

"How fortunate you should have returned just now!" said she, "for 1 was about to send for you. But what has happened to my darling child?" And as Mildred, clinging to her, told her simple and artless tale, the dark eyes of the Signora flushed with mingled anger and exulta

tion.

“Sidney!” exclaimed the girl at length, "cousin Sidney! What, not a word? Do you remember asking me once, if I would be a mother to your child? I have come to fulfil the promise I then made."

"Take her," said the invalid quickly, "while I can bear it, and God bless you both!" But Mildred did not stir. "It was not thus you meant then," said she gently. "Oh, Sidney, let not pride have power a second time to sever us!" How true it is that woman's sweetest revenge is forgiveness!

"It is well," said she; "but the fall of their pride is near at hand. I have reason to know Need we tell our readers how all this ended, or that the lawsuit will terminate against them, and entreat them not to judge harshly of our young then let Sidney Talbot seek his wealthy and high-heroine for what may at first appear somewhat born bride. I do not ask, Mildred, if you love unfeminine in her behaviour. Had she continued this man, believing that but one feeling can pos- poor she would have died, and uttered no comsibly remain after such conduct-that of scorn!" plaint. But to be rich, and know him in wantThis was strange reasoning for a woman, but happy, and he whom she had loved miserable, then it should be remembered that the Signora dying! What other course was there left for her to Bagnioli had outlived much of the truthful and beau. pursue? Her conduct, if not maidenly, was tiful romance of earlier days. There was one womanly, and "the girl had loved, and become piece of news, however, which the girl listened a woman." And yet she had a hard task to reto with pleasure-that she need never go out as a concile that proud and remorseful spirit to owe its governess again, being heiress to a splendid for- all of happiness to her. Making a thousand extune in her father's right. How she wished it had cuses for its momentary weakness, and humbling come a little sooner! and yet what would it have herself, if it could be so called, to manifest his availed? But there were other things heard then infinite superiority. While Isabel was the bright for the first time, that, in spite of all that had hap- link which bound them indissolubly together; and pened, once again sent the flush of hope and ani- verily she has had her reward, for a happier wife mation to her pale cheek. or mother there is not in all England than that young governess.

It was evening, and the beams of the setting sun fell brightly upon the pallid and massive brow of one who lay upon a low couch by the open window, but just recovering from a severe illness. By his side stood a little girl, with her large mournful eyes fixed earnestly on his face, while her fingers played caressingly with the still bright curls of his raven hair. An aged woman completed the group, upon all of which was the weary impress of care and sorrow.

"It must be near the hour at which she promised to be here," said Sidney Talbot at length, for it was him. "Mother, I cannot bear to part with my child!"

"Not if it is for her own good? This new relation of ours must have a noble heart; and I do not see that you can do better than accept her offer to provide for and educate your little Isabel, at least until our return; for you do not go to India quite alone; and who knows but, in that land of fabled wealth, you may soon come back rich enough to reclaim her once again?"

Talbot sighed heavily. "Hark!" exclaimed he at length, "surely I heard a step."

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Yes, it is her; I see the Talbot arms upon the carriage." And the old lady moved forward with her habitual stateliness to receive her guest; who, briefly acknowledging her courtesy, passed on to the sick couch; and, kneeling down by its side, flung back her rich veil, disclosing a sweet and never-to-be-forgotten face; while Isabel sprang into her arms with a cry of joy. Talbot turned away his head.

It is here necessary briefly to explain what may have seemed dark and mysterious in this slight sketch relative to Mildred's parents. Her father was Mrs. Talbot's younger brother, who, in consequence of his falling in love, and actually marrying the Signora Baguioli, then in the blaze of her youthful beauty, being yet in his minority, was cut off by his obdurate father without a shilling; and, after a few vain efforts to minister to the support of his wife and child, by the exertion of literary talents of no mean standard, died of consumption. It would appear, however, from a will recently found, that the old man had afterwards relented, leaving the bulk of his property to this favourite child, or his offspring in the event of death; but being deposited in a secret drawer in his escritoire, and his death a sudden one, it was not until many years afterwards that the paper was discovered.

So ends our one bright page in the, for the most part, weary history of "the young lady who is a governess.' And yet even this tends to prove that but for one of those fortunate occurrences which do occasionally happen in real life, but much oftener in fiction, the young existence of Mildred Talbot must have been crushed and blighted like that of thousands such as her to this day. "They are not a long-lived race," says Miss Toulmin, from whom we have before quoted, "but grow old before their time, and drop off; few marry-they cannot mate where they would and should, and they will not where they can!" And nothing further which we could write can add or take away from this sad and touching truth. But let us never forget that kindness and sympathy

are the flowers which at some time of our lives it | AN ESCAPE FROM THE EXECUTIONER.

may be in the power of every one of us to scatter over the otherwise lonely pathway of the " lady who is a governess.'

WOMAN'S SMILE.

Come, tell me, ye sages, who revel in themes That ages bave made antiquity's own;

young

Come, tell me, ye dreamers of world-mending

schemes,

Which from thought into fancy's bright visions

bave grown;

Will the rust of the past, or all learning's lore, Dispel the mind's gloom, or our moments beguile? Will the draughts which ye quaff from Philosophy's E'er glad us and cheer us like dear woman's smile?

store

Ye say that the mind, when develop'd aright,

Ennobles our nature, makes Creation more fair, Awakens our love, brings more clearly to light The feelings that man to his fellow should bear: But I beed not the dogmas your theories infer;

Your wild dreaming fancies I'll pass for awhile; My creed is more simple: come, say, do I errIs there aught upon earth like-dear woman's smile?

'Tis the Eden of life, where the soul seeks the spring That swells its desires, and doth pleasures impart; "Tis the spell that sets Love's first emotion on wing, Delights and enchants, yet enslaves the young heart;

'Tis the beacon of hope, the essence of joy, The light that both cheers and saddens the while; "Tis virtue itself-for it has no alloyOh! what so enraptures as dear woman's smile? W. WEST.

THE LOVER'S COMPLAINT.
The moon hath flooded every dell,
The dew is bright on every bell,

The stars are glancing in the sky,
And sleep hath sealed each lustrous eye;
And yet she comes not!

The fawns are resting in the glade,
The pool is dark beneath the shade,
And nothing through the still air breathes,
Save the low rustling of leaf-wreaths;
And yet she comes not!

Soon will the morning's crimson vest
Flush o'er the still earth's silver'd breast,
And Venus, harbinger of day,
Pale in the burning solar ray;

And yet she comes not!

Methinks I see her vestures white
Gleam in the waning shades of night;
Perhaps a star-reflecting stream,
Or white flower in the pale moonbeam.
Lo! through the wood it glances on,
Nearer and nearer seems to run;
A voice is borne upon the air-
I clasp my gentle blue-eyed Clare.

BEATRICE.

Murder! The deep forest, and the far off hills sent back the horrid cry. Thrice I essayed to call, and the agony of my soul formed itself into sound, and the shriek was "Murder!"

What was to be done? I had deprived human being, a fellow mortal, of that which I could not restore; and I felt like the fratricide Cain, when he stood over the stiffened corpse of his brother.

There lay the body of my friend, as cold and calmly as the dead warrior

"With his martial cloak around him."

wantonly, exultingly, premeditatively! The moon My friend!-and-oh, God! I had killed him shone down upon his smooth forehead and fair cheek, as sweetly as though he was sleeping only for an hour beneath the ballowed light; and the cool winds that came careering through the foliage, lifted up his light, long tresses, and played amid the profusion of his beautiful curls.

We had been "friends together" from early childhood; had thumbed our soiled primers together in old Ebenezer Birch's log school-house; entered upon the higher branches of education simultaneously, and receiving our permits to go forth, the one to "kill and make alive," the other but important characters, John Doe and Richard to discourse eloquently upon those apocryphal Roe. Our facetious friends had long since named being continually together. us "the Siamese twins," from the fact of our

Our leisure hours, of an evening, were spent in visiting the few families in our neighbourhood; and it was not long after that chance, or Providence, threw me in the company of Mary Manderville, the belle of the village, and one of the loveliest of her sex. To say that I loved Mary would be but a feeble description of the refined and lofty passion entertained for her. She became the inspiration of every thought of good; and a fancy, of perhaps too extravagant an order, had often made me think Mary Manderville one of those gifted intelligences, sent from a brighter and better land, to woo the erring spirit of man from the devious pathways of its wanderings back to the skies.

Edward Harley (the name of my friend) knew of my attachment to the beautiful girl, and was indeed my confidant in relation to my plans for the future, with regard to my union with her.

She had promised to be my bride; and on the wings of gratified feeling I flew to Harley to acquaint him with my good fortune, and was congratulated by him on the seemingly fair position I occupied.

It was after the usual importunities to name the happy day, that the first Tuesday in October was decided upon as that upon which our nuptials should take place. Splendid preparations were made for the occasion, and tardily few the hours as the time drew near for the consummation of my felicity. I had paid the last visit to Mary previous to the one that was to make her mine, and on the wings of happiness flew to my room to ask Harley's advice relative to some trifling articles to be worn on the occasion. As he was

not in when I entered, I threw myself on the bed to await his return. I had not been long on the bed, when Harley entered, and threw himself into a chair by the little table near the fire-place. I thought I observed confusion in his looks when I spoke to him, and hastily crumpling a letter which he held, he attempted to put it in his coat pocket, but, unperceived by himself, it fell on the floor under the table.

the letter and put it in my bosom. The dark shadow of a dreadful thought passed over my mind, nor did I seek to dispel it with the voice of reason, or a prayer to heaven. Harley entered the room, and throwing the cigars on the table in a careless manner, flung himself into a chair, exclaiming, "Well, what news to-day from Mary?" He had touched a chord which was still vibrating from the rude strain it had but a moment past re

At any other time this would have passed un-ceived. I made him no reply, but drawing the noticed, but at a moment when all my thoughts were running upon Mary, anything of a suspicious character attaching itself to my friend, involuntarily associated itself with her in my mind. Though aware of the meanness which prompted the desire, I determined to obtain possession of the letter, and make myself master of the contents. Assuming as cheerful an aspect as possible, I requested him to step out and purchase some cigars, as I was too much fatigued to go out any more, and it was too early to think of retiring.

letter from my bosom, placed it open into his
hand. The smile that had lighted his cheek died
away as he glanced over the letter, and with a
scowl of dark and angry gloom upon his brow, he
turned upon me fiercely, and asked me,
"How
dare you take a letter of mine, accidentally left in
the room during my absence, and pry into its
contents ?"

He agreed, left the room for the purpose, and I was in an instant in possession of the letter. I lost not a moment in acquainting myself with its contents. It was from Mary Manderville, my fancied angel, to Edward Harley, my professed

friend!

Had paralysis seized me, or the withering frost of fourscore years settled suddenly upon my brow, and chilled the warm current of my young heart's feelings, they could not have produced a more awful blight than that caused by the damning confirmation which that letter conveyed to my mind, of the cold-hearted perfidy of my mistress, and the unnatural villany of my friend. The letter ran thus:

I recriminated, he retorted, until his anger getting the mastery, he pronounced me a scoundrel! For a moment I gazed upon him as if my ears had deceived me, and in the next I hurled him from me to the farthest end of the room. I was his superior in physical power, and he knew it. Recovering from his fall, he observed as coolly as he could," We must settle this with weapons." "The sooner the better," I replied; 66 so if you will only name your time and place, and your weapons, I am ready; and settled indeed it shall be, before I close my eyes to sleep."

Swords were decided upon, and wrapping our cloaks about us, we proceeded, without farther arrangements than removing the buttons from our foils, to the spot selected.

It was near midnight ere we reached the place pitched upon for the arena of our combat. It was a skirt of wood, at the side of a hill, whose "DEAR HARLEY,-You must continue to impose base was laved by a little rivulet, which wound upon the good-natured credulity of, by pre-its way through briers and furze, making a monotending you are rejoiced at his approaching nuptials; I shall not undeceive him as to the termination of our wedding preparations until the very last moment; I will then tell him, as his friend has a prior claim, he must relinquish his. We will laugh at his presumptuous folly, and be united ourselves.

"Your affectionate

"MARY."

tonous sound as it beat its tiny waves into melancholy murmurs. The moon shone out in her tranquil loveliness, and the stars, like volumes of bright poetry, opened their gorgeous pages of living fire along the blue skies; kindling in any other heart than mine, at that hour, thoughts of that better land, where "the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary be at rest.”

Throwing off our cloaks, we made at each other with the fury that inflames the tiger and the alligator when each strives for the mastery. I was an excellent swordsman-Harley only a tolerably good one. I suffered him to exhaust himself with ineffectual lunges, till his thrusts became more faint and irregular, and then making a feint as if to parry his attack, I plunged my sword into his bosom, and drew it reeking from his heart!

And this coarse, ill-written effusion was from Mary-my sentimental Mary, as I had so often called her; and that, too, to the man who had "coined his cheeks to smiles" when in my presence; while, in my absence, with my cold-hearted, selfish mistress he was plotting my ruin and disgrace. My soul was stung to its inmost core. That Mary Manderville should have carried on the farce with me while at the same time she was engaged to Harley-and with his sanction, tooA wild and unnatural shriek rose upon the air, playing with and mocking the purest and holiest startling the bird from her brier, and waking echo feelings of the heart-manifested a mutual callous-into fearful response, as he fell dead! dead! ness unparalleled. That Harley should, regardless dead! of the ties of friendship, the duty of man to man, agree to torture the feelings of the man who had never injured him in the least, was a crime of so malignant a character, that no punishment can be found adequate to its turpitude. I heard his footfall upon the step, as he entered from purchasing the cigars, and as calmly as I could I folded up

Never, never shall I forget that one wild cry of agony! Never, never shall I forget that glance which he gave me as his heart's blood spouted from his bosom! That shriek sounded in my ears

* Ye stars which are poetry of heaven!"-Byron.

like the wail of a baffled fiend; that look-his features unnaturally distorted, upon whose ghastly lineaments the cold moon threw her solemn light seemed the picture of hate and despair!

I dropped my sword, and felt about his heart, but no pulse answered to the call. The blood came welling over my trembling fingers, and in the fit of the moment the awful stillness was again broken, as I howled forth my crime to the night winds. A thousand caverns seemed to catch the sound, and run through it with all the variation of echo.

"Murder, murder, murder!" and the welkin Tang with the cry! I heard the tramp of horses, yet there I stood, heedless of detection, by the corpse of Edward Harley, my mind dwelling alone on the horrid crime I had committed.

But I will not linger. I was discovered, dragged before the officers of justice, sent on for farther trial, tried and condemned.

The morning of the day on which I was to be executed, the sun rose with uncommon brightness. I looked from my prison window, the road was thronged with persons who were coming into town to witness the execution-even females had walked long and wearying miles, to glut their curiosity in witnessing the last convulsive agony of the victim. To the present day, I have a distinct recollection of a boy-a large, red-haired, freckled-faced boy, in boots, and a chip hat, with a red calico blouse on, and an orange-coloured waistcoat.

This wretch had caught a little negro right under my window, and, like Coleridge's unwilling wedding guest, the little descendant of Ham was trying to get away; but, like the ancient mariner, the villain

held him with his glittering eye," and with his long, bony, freckled fingers, while he enlightened him on the number of spasms I would have, before, as he expressed it, I should "finish pulling hemp and standing upon nothing.' I dropped a brick out of my window upon his dirty toes, and cut short his part of the ceremonies by sending him away howling in pain.

The bell tolled one! I was carried by the soldiery to the place of execution, was placed on the platform, and preparatory to having my eyes bandaged, turned to bid a long farewell to nature. A tall man in a white hat and green goggles, who was standing near the scaffold, told me he " didn't like to hurry me, but he had been waiting there several hours, and was getting hungry, and would be obliged to me to get through as soon as possible, as, if I didn't, he would be compelled to leave, and he didn't think it would be fair treatment." I made him no answer; the callous wretch! Oh! never did sweet nature wear a lovelier face than on that day. Far off upon the smooth and tranquil water lay the frolic boat, its sails lazily flapping the mast; while the dipping of an oar, not far off, brought vividly before the mind's eye, the bright and happy scenes of innocent boyhood's happy hours.

I could not give up life without a struggle when all above and beneath looked so invitingly and lovely. With one leap I cleared the platform, and was soon flying across the fields with the speed of thought or sound!

“Away, away, away! Thousands were in pursuit, and the race was for life! They were gaining upon me, and my strength rapidly failing. I could feel the wind of the mighty rush, as they were hemming me in and pressing around me. A deep ravine crossed my path-its width was fearful, its depth unknown-a moment's pause, and I made the leap!

I heard the shout of horror and surprise that broke from my pursuers, as I hovered over the chasm-I gained the opposite bank, and sought to cling to the bushes which bordered its sides. They bent-yielded-snapt! Down, down I seemed to go; yet, as I descended, thought and consciousness were busy in picturing the dreadful fall, when I was awakened by Edward Harley tickling my nose with a feather!

Kind reader, I had been dreaming. Well might Byron say

"A slumbering thought is capable of years,
And curdles a long life into one hour."

THE DAISY.

What little flow'ret yonder gleams,
Amid the tall grass sleeping?
Each silvery petal brightly beams,
With fairy dew-drops weeping.
'Tis a simple daisy, pillowed

Upon the meadow's dewy lap;
Mosses wild surround its bed,
Fragrant flowers its form enwrap.
Sweet emblem of simplicity,

In natural beauty ever glowing; Thou courtest not publicity,

For fairer flowers are round thee blowing.

Thou gleam'st a lone and sivery star,
Upon thy pensile, waving stem;
A richer colour would but mar
Thy snowy cup, my bonny gem!

BEATRICE.

DISAPPOINTMENT.-How often does early disappointment fix a sombre colouring on all our future prospects. Distrust and false estimates of human happiness are the natural produce of a mind thus blighted in its spring-time, while the reason and ex. perience of maturer years can alone convince us of an error so fatal to peace, and shew us the many gradations of happiness which we may make our own, even when the first dream of felicity is rudely destroyed.

FAVOURS.-A favour ceases to be a favour when

it is forced upon the receiver; an honour becomes a disgrace when the mind of the honoured person feels itself degraded by its acceptance.

SMALL CAUSES AND GREAT RESULTS. |

"You are very thoughtful to-day," said the young Countess to Baron Henwen, as he sat oue afternoon in her drawing-room, his arms folded, and his eyes fixed on the floor.

At that instant there was a flash of lightningand the thunder followed with loud reverberations. Still the Baron did not start from his reverie.

When Countess Wilhelmina had recovered from her fright at the thunder, she expressed her astonishment at the insensibility of her guest. Henwen looked up, and said, "Ah, dear lady, I am not building castles; I am sadly in want of materials. Pardon me for my absence."

"If you have cause for melancholy, you ought to tell your friends," observed Countess Wilhel

mina.

"I should be ungrateful," replied the Baron, "not to avail myself of your and your husband's kindness. But mine is rather a long story, and without telling it, I could not explain the cause of my sadness."

Here the rain began to beat violently against the windows, and Count Roderic entered the room. "Our pleasure excursion is over for today," said he. "You must spend the evening quietly at home with us." And he gave his arm to his wife, to lead her to the tea-room.

“You will have time enough, Baron,” said the lady," to tell me your story. I give you until eleven to-night;" and she told her husband what had previously passed.

66

Certainly, Henwen," cried the minister, "I am impatient to hear of your adventures. You are acquainted with mine."

The Baron assented, and while they sipped their tea, the Count and Countess sitting opposite him, he narrated as follows:—

"I left school a year after you, dear Roderic, and returned to my father's palace in the Electoral capital. But all the world, even my father, seemed strange to me. I had been brought up tenderly under the care of my mother, who died some years before, and was inexperienced in the ways of courtiers, or of men in general. In process of my education, I had imbibed romantic notions of mankind, and formed vast philanthropic plans. I looked on all men as my brothers, and ardently desired their welfare: those above me in rank I reverenced, and was ready at all times to esteem others better than myself. I strove continually to realize in myself an ideal of duty and virtue. I was in love with the images of excellence and heroism impressed on my fancy by the books I had read. I lived in a world of my own imagination, decorated in the glory of Eden.

"You know, Roderic, what an enthusiast I was at school, when we studied together the elevating works of antiquity, and learned scholarly wisdom at the feet of our venerable tutor. We were youthful devotees at the shrine of truth, justice, and philanthropy. We longed to act a noble and heroic part in the world. We looked—I did, at least-upon folly and vice as the chimeras of a misanthropic brain, or as of much rarer occurrence than was represented.

“I returned, after four years' absence, to the capital. I came modestly-fearing that I should not be found so learned or so virtuous as my father had a right to expect. Heaven help me, my fears were quite unnecessary, I had not been at home four weeks, when I acquired the nicknames of the saint'-and the book-worm.'

"I am glad, Thomas,' said my father, to find you have spent your time so well; only too well, in fact. But you have some wrong notions to be corrected. These you have obtained from books; away with books, they teach nothing of real life. You must let the Greeks go, and become a German, a courtier, a statesman-a man of the world. You must listen to every thing, but believe nothing; observe all, but say nothing; think what you please, but express nothing; and be prompt in serving every body, in order to render yourself indispensable. Thus those you have served will become your instruments. You are young, good-looking, gifted, rich, and descended from one of the oldest families in the country; you cannot fail to succeed, and in time may be first in the land, next to the Elector. But keep your book-learning carefully secret; it is a thing to be ashamed of. It is the plague of our schools, that they fill our sons' heads with ideal notions, of as little use to them in the world as a picture to one born blind.'

"I would gladly have remonstrated with my father; but I knew it would be in vain, and kept silence. I was introduced into the aristocratic circles of the capital, and received with distinguished favour. Incense was every where offered me; I was loaded with tokens of regard. My father was delighted. But I soon became disgusted with the emptiness and frivolity of the life I led; and its pleasures palled on my taste. I saw, also, how hollow and hypocritical was the friendship each professed for the other. Each was an egotist, and thought only of his own interests, even while he seemed devoted to those of others.

"I was presented to the Elector, and received by him with unusual graciousness. His court was celebrated for its splendour, and the Prince as a magnificent patron of the arts and literature by the authors whom he obliged. With me he conversed on literary subjects, and I saw that his tastes were formed after the latest French fashion. I observed, also, that the sums he expended in encouragement of the liberal arts, were designed to exalt his own reputation, and minister to his own love of elegance and luxury. He had formed a great university, but the schools in the country were in a most deplorable condition for want of state patronage. His government reminded me of the man who wore ragged linen under vestments of silk. The opera and theatres received most attention; and the performers were employed at enormous cost.

"In my frequent visits to the court, where I was welcomed as a favoured guest, I saw that it was a stage representation of the world. The same follies and vices prevailed, as among the common people; but softened and embellished by aristocratic elegance. I saw, too, the most opposite

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