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rimony. He laughed at me. But there's no mistake about it. Catch me to give up my freedom, and provide for a family--be pestered with a whole string of new connections, when I can't bear those I have now-never have a moment to myselfbe obliged to get up in the night for a doctor-have to pay for a boy's schooling, and be plauged to death by him for my pains-be bothered constantly with bad servants-see my wife lose her beauty, in a twelvemonth from, care-my goddess become a mere household drudge-give up segars—keep precise hours—take care of sick children-go to market! never, never, never !

As his reverie thus emphatically terminated, NcNiel slowly raised himself to a sitting posture, in order to ascertain the state of the weather, when a sight presented itself which at once put his philosophy to flight and startled him from his composure.

He did not cry out, but hushed his very breath. Beside him lay a female form in profound slumber. Her hair had escaped from its confinement, and fell in the richest profusion around her face. There was a delicate glow upon the cheeks. The lips were scarcely parted. The brow was perfectly

One arm was thrust under her head, the other lay stretched upon the coverlid. It was one of those accidental attitudes which sculptors love to embody. The bosom heaved regularly. He felt that it was the slumber of an innocent creature, and that beneath that calm breast beat a kindly and pure heart. He bent over the vision, for so at first it seemed to him, as did Narcissus above the crystal water. The peaceful beauty of that face entered bis very soul. He trembled at the still regularity of the long, dark eye-lashes, as if it were death personified. Recovering himself, all at once something familiar struck him in the countenance. He thought awhile, and the whole mystery was solved. It was the widow's daughter. They occupied the adjoining chamber ; she had gone down stairs in the night to procure something for the invalid, and on returning, entered in the darkness, the wrong room, and fancying her mother asleep, had as she thought, very quietly taken her place beside her, and was soon lost in slumber. No sooner did this idea take possession of McNiel, than with the utmost caution and a noiseles move. ment, he stole away and removed every vestige of his presence into a vacant apartment opposite, leaving the fair intruder to suppose she alone had occupied the room. At breakfast, he observed the mother and daughter whis. per and smile together, and soon ascertained that they had no suspicion of the actual state of the case. With the delicacy that belonged to his character, McNiel in. wardly vowed to keep the secret forever in his own breast. Meantime, with much apparent hilarity, he prepared to accompany Jones to Lake George. His companion marvelled to perceive this unwonted gaiety wear off as they proceeded in their ride. McNiel became silent and pensive. The evening was fine, and they went upon the lake to enjoy the moonlight. Jones sung his best songs and woke the echoes with his bugle. His friend remained silent, wrapt in his cloak, at the boat's stern. At last, very abruptly he sprang up, and ordered the rowers to land him. “Where are yon going ?" inquired Jones. " To Saratoga," was the reply. “Not to-night, surely pus

serene.

“ Yes, now, this instant.” Entertaining some fears for his friend's sanity, Jones reluctantly devoted that lovely night to a hard ride over a sandy road, instead of lingering away its delightful hours, on the sweet bosom of the lake.

Six months after, McNiel married the widow's daugh ter, and the ensuing summer, when I met him at Saratoga, he assured me he found it a delightful residence.

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Hair is an eloquent emblem. It is the mother's pride to dress her child's rich locks; the lover's joy to gaze on the hair-locket of his mistress; the mourner's despair to see the ringlet stir as if in mockery of death, by the mar·ble cheek of the departed. How the hue of hair is hallowed to the fancy! From the “ glossy raven” to the “ silver sable,” from the “ brown in the shadow, and gold in the sun,” to the blonde and silken thread, there is a vocabulary of hues appealing to each memory.

The beautiful economy of nature is signally displayed in the human hair. The most simple expedient in the animal frame, the meanest adjunct, as it were, to the figure, yet how effective!

*

“Hyacinthine locks
Round from his parted forelock manly hung
Clustering, but not beneath his shoulders broad :
She, as a veil, down to the slender waist,
Her unadorned tresses wore,
Disheveled, but in wanton ringlets wav'd,
As the vine curls her tendrils, which implies

Subjection, but required with gentle sway,
And by her yielded, by him best received,
Yielded with coy submission, modest pride,
And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay."

mas

In this passage, the blind bard of Paradise has interpreted the natural language of woman's hair before the artifices of fashion had marred its natural grace. Whoever has attentively perused one of the pictures of the old ters, where a female figure is represented, must have per. ceived, perhaps unconsciously, that the long flexible ringlets conveyed an impression to the mind of dependence. The short, tight curls of a gladiatorial statue, on the con.

trary, give the idea of self-command and unyielding will. There is a poetical charm in the unshorn tresses of a beautiful woman, which Milton has not exaggerated. I have seldom received a more sad conviction of the bitterness of poverty, than was conveyed by the story of a lovely girl in one of the continental towns, who was obliged to sell her hair for bread. She was of humble parentage, but nature had adorned her head with the rarest perfection. Her luxuriant and glowing ringlets, constituted the pride of her heart. She rejoiced in this distinction as the redeeming point of her destiny. Often would a blush of pleasure suffuse her cheek as she caught a stranger's eye regarding them with admiration, when at her lowly toil. The homeliness of her garb, and the poverty of her condition were relieved by this native adornment. It is wonderful to what slight tokens the self-respect of poor mortals will cling, and how the very maintenance of virtue often de. pends upon some frail association. A strain of musie,

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