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affianced bride," exclaimed poor Clarence bit
TO MRS. - terly, glancing at the same time toward his astonished mistress. What further reproaches he might have uttered it is not for me to say, for a ON THE DEATH OF HER INFANT. burst, almost a shout of laughter from Miss Howard interrupted him, and snatching up the letter, she advanced to him with an air of comic but most provoking dignity.
“You are right, sir; you have a rival in the “ Banges Stöhnen, wie vor'm nahen Sturme, affections of Louisa Somerset; a rival, sir, who Hallet her vom öden Trauerhaus dearly loves her, and whose attachment is as ar Todtentöne hallen von des Münsters Thurme ! dently returned, and one who will not give her Einen Jüngling trägt man hier heraus" .... up, though Clarence Evelyn were Field-marshal
SCHILLER. Wellington instead of Major in the -Hussars. I am that favoured rival-am I not, Louisa ? I, Harriet Howard Miss Howard with Mr. Templeton and Major Evelyn, Miss Harriet with Sir Richard Meadows, and · Harry, dearest Young Mother, weep! To chide thy tears Harry' with my own Louisa.” She threw her
I do not coldly come; arms around her friend, and looking archly
Although the shaft that pierces theo at poor Evelyn, continued in an undertone,“ his
Hath sent an angel home ! only fault is a little, very little jealousy; Ah! Louisa, keep your word, my love, and
Home to its Father's shelt'ring breast don't, I beg of you, forget poor Harry.
Home to the tearless land Heyday! what's here to do?" she added, as
Where thorns will never pierce its feet, Clarence threw himself on his kness, and covered Nor “broken reeds” its hand! the hands of his fair mistress with tears and kisses—"flirting with Miss Somerset before my face! On pain of my displeasure, sir, withdraw Yet, oh young Mother, well I feel your claim. What, no reply! and you, Louisa, That thoughts like these were slow silent, blushing, and in tears !--nay, then my case To soothe the crash of human hopes is hopeless. Sir Richard Meadows ! Mr. Tem The gush of human woepleton! that hand and heart were mine for years before they were sought by Major Clarence Evelyn-I am, alas, forsaken! I was jealous of
When thou, thy thankful heart all fill'd
With joy and painless tears, my betrothed, and she has bestowed her love
Didst still believe that sweet weak cry upon another! I will at least, however, be a
Fell faintly on thine ears! generous rival ; I will give you up her hand, sir, on one condition-if ever you in future be inclined to jealousy, check the feeling in the out That cry which thrill'd through ev'ry vein, set, as you would preserve the love of Louisa And bade thy soul rejoiceSomerset, and escape the fate of her discarded That cry which gave a Mother words Harry !"
To bless her infant's voice! Clarence promised, and he kept his word. A few days afterwards, Louisa was attended to the altar by the fascinating Harriet Howard, who
When that dear cry was hush'd, and thou herself, within the twelvemonth, became the
With aching heart and brain bride of TRAVERS TEMPLETON.
Didst pine for its return: but lo!
It never came again!
When thou upon love's tender breast
Didst lean thy throbbing head,
And heard those falter'd words "Be calm, ON PRESENTING A PASSIONATE Young Mother of the Dead !"
YOUNG LADY WITH A MAIDEN'S
My heart of hearts doth feel for thee,
Young Mother! for I know Thy cheek, dear girl, should be o'erspread
How sorrowful my soul should be With such a tint as this displays;
If I had felt that blow! And not be blanch'd with anger dread,
Nor sallow'd with contemptuous rays. Nought speaks so sweetly innocence
My heart of hearts could weep with the As the faint blush of feeling mind :
Weep gushing tears and wild, It is the silent eloquence
As, with a trembling love I clasp
My own fair first-born child !
OUR CONSER V A T O R Y.
A TRUE ESTIMATE OF OUR OLD ACTORS. — où l'autorité de la mère de famille se confondait The play was Coriolanus. The chief actors avec la dignité de l'épouse, ont été les siècles od were Mrs. Siddons and Mr. Kemble. She had elles s'appliquaient particulièrement à la tenue few opportunities of coming forward, but showed de leur maison et aux travaux interieurs du herself a great and impressive performer, and ménage.-From M. de Custine's work, “ Romanoble in the expression of heightened heroical ald, où La Vocation." sentiment. I was electrified at the drawing out of the dagger, “to die while Rome was free." Kemble disgusted me at first; heavy and formal
THE SONG OF STEAM. in the movement of his arms, and not able to drop the stateliness of his manner on trivial and
[From an American Paper.] unimportant occasions. He is too formal, artificial, and affected; but is more than tolerable Harness me down with your iron bands; is great and admirable on those grand occasions Be sure of your curb and rein, when nature overpowers art, and the feelings are
For I scorn the power of your puny hands
As the tempest scorns a chain. carried along by the strong, the vehement, and
How I laughed, as I lay concealed from sight the resistless.-Dr. Chalmers.
For many a countless hour,
At the childish boast of human might, NIAGARA RATTLE-SNAKES.-My respecta
And the pride of human power. ble old friend, T. M'Connell, the trapper, told me, that he was in the habit of visiting Niagara
When I saw an army upon the land, for the purpose of killing the rattle-snakes for
A navy upon the seas, the sake of their fat, and that he has sometimes
Creeping along, a snail-like band, killed three hundred in a season, and thus :-he Or waiting the wayward breezewatched beside a ledge of rocks where their When I marked the peasant faintly reel holes were, and stood behind a tree, club in With the toil which he daily bore, hand, and with his legs cased in sheepskins As he feebly turned at the tardy wheel, with the wool on, to guard against bites. The Or tugged at the weary oarsnakes would come out cautiously to seek on account of food or to sun themselves, fearing to When I measur'd the panting courser's speed, go far for their enemies, the pige. The trapper The flight of the carrier dove, would then rush forward and lay about him with As they bore the law a King decreed, his club; those which escaped to their holes he Or the lines of impatient love, seized by the tail, and if they turned round and
I could not but think how the world would feel, bit him in the hand, he would spit some snake
As these were outstripped afar, root (which he kept chewing in his mouth) on
When I should be bound to the rushing keel, the wound; it frothed up, and danger would
Or chained to the flying car! cease. The dead snakes were then roasted, hung up by the tail over a slow fire, and their
Ha! ha! ha! they found me at last : fat collected, taking care there was no blood in
They invited me forth at length, it. The fat would sell for twelve dollars a bot
And I rushed to my throne with thunder blast, tle, and was considered of great value by the
And I laughed in my iron strength.
Oh! then ye saw a wondrous change country people in cases of rheumatism and stiff
On the earth and ocean wide, joints. — From L'Acadie, by Sir James Alex
Where now my fiery armies range, ander.
Nor wait for wind or tide.
Hurrah! hurrah! the waters o'er
The mountain's steep decline;
The world! the world is mine!
Or those where his beams decline;
Or the orient floods divine.
FEMININE OCCUPATIONS. -- Les femmes qui dédaignent les ouvrages de leur sexe ne savent pas de quel contentment elles se privent, et même de quel moyen de plaire ou d'attacher ; l'habitude de l'application et le spectacle du bon ordre domestique rendent un interieur agréable. Il y a, dans le travail à l'aiguille un calme qui influe sur la disposition de l'âme; on y trouve aussi l'exemple de l'occupation donne à toute une famille, de l'economie du temps et du bon gout dans les petites choses; la maitresse de la maison gagne plus qu'on ne pense à tous ces moyens accessoires d'exercer son autorité morale ; l'apparente immobilité d'une femme qui brode serait à elle seule un moyen de gouvernement. Les beaux siècles pour les femmes, ceux
The ocean pales where'er I sweep,
To hear my strength rejoice,
Cower, trembling at my voice.
The thoughts of the god-like mind;
The lightning is left behind.
But harness me down with your iron bands,
Be sure of your curb and rein,
As the tempest scorns a chain,
In the darksome depths of the fathomloss mine
My tireless arm doth play,
Or the dawn of the glorious day.
From the hidden cave below,
With a crystal gush o'erflow.
A PANCY FROM “ TESTUS."
I blow the bellows, I forge the steel
In all the shops of trade;
Where my arms of strength are made;
I carry, I spin, I weave;
On every Saturday eve.
O Heaven, I love thee ever! * * . By night or
I'vo no muscle to weary, no breast to decay,
No bones to be “ laid on the shelf,"
While I manage the world by myself.
LI T E R A TU R E.
Thy DOUBLE CLAIM. A Tale of Real Life. , dered every one concerned in the progress of By Mrs. T. K. Hervey. (Hall, Virtue and Co., the story. The tale terminates as happily as London.)- This is rather an uncommon story, can be expected, after the concoction and expotreated in a very pleasing manner. Its chief sure of so much iniquity. incidents are certainly rather improbable, but The allusion to “a tribe of gipsies” may perwe are assured by the able authoress in her pre- haps lead our readers to imagine that they will face, that they are founded upon fact. This ap- find in this narrative a great deal about the peal to our faith is effectual, especially as we swarthy people--their haunts, plots, adventures, are always disposed to allow great latitude to and picturesque eventful career. Nothing of story-inakers. We read and believe. The main the kind. Mrs. Hervey, with better taste, but features of the story are the following: A perhaps a less keen eye to “ thrilling interest" gang of gipsies, who it appears were in the and “ popularity,” has elevated her subject into habit of committing such atrocities, steal at the regions of poetical sentiment, romantic emointervals two children - one gentle and re- tion, and respectable society. The following is signed; the other dark, eager, plotting, and pas- the scene in which the gentle and real Margaret sionate. Of course, in the lapse of years, the is repulsed by her own mother, who is under the relations lose all knowledge of the persons of impression that she has already found her lost these damsels, and upon their inability to recog- child in the person of the passionate young nise them hangs the plot. The turbulent semi- gipsy, and that the new-comer must be a degipsy falls violently in love with a good youth ceiver. named Claude Maraud, who was in his early days betrothed to the more meek and amiable of
Two figures stood within the door-way: one an the two heroines. This sincere boy and affec
ng anec- | aged man, with thin white hair; the other a fair tionate girl preserve the memory of their early girl : he with a brow, solemn and serene, like one attachment, which the other daring damsel whose fate is yet unread, the folded page lying bedetermines to turn to her own advantage, by fore him; she with trembling limbs, that almost bore representing herself to be Claude's former her sinking to the ground. idol. The personation is successful as far There was a moment's pause, for neither had as the relations are concerned; but Claude power to speak. cannot see in the human lioness any trace of the
The widow's mind misgave her of her guests; but soft and tender nature which had gained his
she awaited their lagging speech, and her eye young heart, and which still existed in his de
lighted on the girl.
Drawn to her side by some strong internal imvoted imagination. He will have nothing to do
pulse, of which she could not divine the cause, the with the impostor, and therefore the whole pur
widow took her gently by the hand, and would have pose of her wily stratagem is entirely frustrated.
given her support. But Margaret fell at her feet She accordingly repents of her subtle design, I breathless-sobbing ! and makes a confession, which in the end is the “Father ! father! speak for me!" means of explaining the mysteries that bewil- ! The old man lifted the hat from his revorond
locks, and stood like a patriarch pleading for the “Go, go; I will not hoar theo more!" truth.
“You must, you will-oh that my father lived !" “ Your name, I think, is Cogordon ?" " It is."
“Oh that my François lived ! His dying blessing “You had once a child-a daughter ?"
went with his true child, not with thee. By his will “She lies there;" and she pointed to the half
she weds this Claude thou dared'st to call thine
own !" open door. “It is not of her we speak."
“In wedding him I do my father's will.” “ I have no other child."
“ In wedding thee his father curses him !" " How shall we tell thee what we feel and know! Her arms relaxed their hold. Home and love Margaret, my child, stand up; look in thy mother's shut against her both! She felt that all was over ; face. Nature will speak to her heart better than I and her eyes wandered back to their resting-place can for thee."
of years. Baptiste stood there before her, with Still no word-no sign.
clasped hands and head bowed down. Oh! she felt Margaret rose, and putting back the hair from how cruel she had been to him ; giving all to the her now death-pale cheek, gazed full in the face new affections, and nothing to the old ! His love before her., But already her heart was chilled. So and tendernesshow she prized them now! quick to hope, 80 sudden to despair, she could but A quick, wild sob broke from her lips. As she gasp one word “Mother mother!"
faltered, and staggered towards him, he caught and "Oh! thou art abused ! Sweet child, what brings clasped her in his arms. It was a silent welcome thee here?"
back, One word of kindness, and the gushing springs were loosed, the full, full heart spoke out.
The faults of the story appear to us to be “Love-love to thee, my mother !-love to thee! 'Tis thou that art abused. I only am thy child
too great a discursiveness in the construction -thy Margaret! Look on mo! am I not thine
and characters. The parts are not firmly held own ? One word-oh, mother, speak to me! I did
together in a powerful and commanding grasp. not look for this ;-my heart will break. One The Pegasean team which the authoress drives word-a sign-a touch-only to say you do not cast
have too much their own way sometimes. Now me from you."
and then we catch them nibbling too long at Still not a word. But Margaret fell upon her some poetical bank, or taking their repose on neck,
the borders of a quiet stream, instead of bound“Here, on your breast, I throw myself; round ing forward to their journey's end. your neck I clasp my arms till you shall answer. The book is full of womanly feeling and rightme. François was my father ; you were his wife. mindedness and we heartily wish it success
s wife. mindedness, and we heartily wish it success. You loved me both. A thousand times I have nestled in this breast; that face looked down like
We have a bone to pick with Mr. Weir, the heaven upon me once. Oh, look upon me now! artist, who has contributed an illustration. He Why do I plead in vain? Alas! you ask for proofs; has apparently been so puzzled between fact and and I have none to bring—none, save Nature's in- fiction, that his picture partakes of the same stinct in my heart, and memories sweet-how sweet! epicene character. He has stuck a large millof thee, my mother-of our cottage home, this val- wheel to the outer wall of a pretty little cottage; ley with its stream, and yonder mill; the tall, the and as there is no mill visible, we are left to silver aspen trees--I know-I know them all : the imagine that the grinding stones, hoppers, and spot, too-there, yonder; look, mother, through 13
cough sieves form part of the furniture of the bedroom the lattice, where the alders bend above the brook : that spot, too, well I know, where my loved play
or parlour. mate once was rescued from the waters. You start
N.C. -you know me now? It was Claude-my Claude ; my betrothed-my love! He is my own, and I am
TOIL AND TRIAL; a Story of London Life. With cruel hands the mother strove to undo that By Mrs. Newton Crosland.-(Hall, Virtue, and fervent clasp of love that held her bound so close. Co., London.) We believe it is the custom of
“Mother, mother; you put me from you! Hear the judges in Westminster Hall to retire from me yet!"
the bench whenever a cause comes before them "I have heard enough!--80 young-so cun in which they have any personal interest. The ning!”
judgment-seat must be above the suspicion of oi Oh! rather kill me with a frown than wear that
undue partiality. Guided by the laudable precedreadful smile. What means she, father ?”
dent which we have quoted, we must necessarily “Alas! my child, I know not;" answered Bap
abstain from giving any opinion upon the work tiste, thus appealed to: “but my mind misgives me
now before us. We wish simply to announce that her ear must have been poisoned against us ere we came hither. Surely the dear instincts of her
its publication, and to state its plan and purwoman and mother breast would else have spoken pose. In her preface the authoress says :out."
Once more she turned to the face that met her! The story of “Toil and Trial” is an endeavour own so coldly.
to awaken sympathy for a class of persons-num“Bring me to them whose tongues have dealt so bered in the metropolis alone by tens of thousands falsely dear mother-still I call you so, and I will who appear to have been singularly neglected by plead once more for justice at their feet. I cannot, writers of fiction, in this age when Fiction is the fawill not be so cast out from thee-never, never, vourite vehicle for embodying and illustrating while a hope remains."
| Truth. Yet I trust that I have avoided the error, to
the brink of which earnest feelings are so likely to Three weeks have passed away, seeming a longlead-the error of writing in a partisan spirit. long period of suffering to Lizzy and her husband.
have striven to put prominently forward the Jasper is still confined to the sofa, the injuries he great truth of social life, that the real and perma- received by the fire still requiring medical attendnent interest of employers and employed is identi- ance. Though it is mid-day, the room is darkened, cal: and though, for the purposes of my story, I and Lizzy sits plying her needle by candle-light. have found it necessary to depict oppressors, my She is not now engaged in the manufacture of rich readers will acknowledge that I have been careful to and gay attire for the adornment of the wealthy and display the reverse of the medal. If I have thrown the beautiful; her fingers are shaping a black garsome little halo of interest about a suffering class, I ment for her own wearing, while every now and then have also represented individuals of it as unworthy they are raised to dash away the large tears that of respect and confidence.
flow silently and at intervals.
For in the next chamber there lies a small grey • The suffering class” here alluded to, is that coffin, that encloses the fragile remains of their of the draper's assistants : and the cause which much-loved child. Often and often in the day is the our authoress has advocated, is the limitation of
| lid pushed aside, that the mother may gaze, cling
| ing while she may to the shadow-the cold, insenthe hours of labour, and a more generous treat
sible wreck-of her first-born, of that dear intelliment of those young persons employed in
gent creature, the pressure of whose lips still seemed houses of business.
glowing on her cheek, and whose thin, wasted arms Mrs. Crosland has attempted to effect her ob she yet dreamed were knotted round her neck. It ject by working up into a tale the characters, was no parent's fantasy that made them both think trials, and sufferings of a few individuals, repre- that clay image “ angelic;" the prim grave clothes senting the numerous body of London traders hid the shrivelled limbs, and the face wore an exand their dependants. It has been one of the pression of seraphic innocence. To complete the chief objects of her work to contrast the benevo
picture, some roses and violets were placed in the lent and enlightened employer with the harsh. | little hands; for Miriam had brought her young grasping, and vulgar one, and to point out the
pupils on a visit of condolence, and this floral ofdifferent results of their opposite treatment of a
fering had been theirs, purchased with their own young married couple, named Jasper and Lizzy
| pocket-money, even at the dead of winter. Rivers. The following are the reflections sug
The London grave-yards come in for their gested by the state of their infant-one of their share of bitter cönder
one of their share of bitter condemnation :many sources of anxiety and sorrow:
A pleasant spot had been chosen for Ellen's last Lizzy's was, indeed, the woman's courage of pa- resting-place, where early flowers would bloom in tient endurance and of action, when action became Spring, and be the first heralds of the earth's coming imperative. So long as she believed her child was wealth. Where green boughs would wave in the tenderly cared for, she endured the separation, Summer breeze, and the golden tints of Autumn visiting it stealthily, and at distant intervals-like a linger the longest. In the distance lay the Mighty thief his treasure-at the nurse's home. It was not City,--the centre of the world's commerce,--the very soon that the mismanagement of the poor in emporium of all that is great in literature and scifant became apparent --- mismanagement partly ence,—there it lay, like a still panorama, yet arising from the woman's ignorance, partly from prompting the recollection of its wealth and its her want of principle, and very terrible in its re- poverty, its luxury and its suffering, its learning and sults. There is hardly a sadder sight in the world its ignorance. Not within its precincts must that than to witness the decay of a child; it seems one little coffin rest, for Jasper Rivers was not one to be of the harshest reversals of Nature's beautiful plan. guilty of the wickedness of adding so much as the When we see the old and feeble—them who have light dust it contained to the festering heaps of the survived the rupture of the heart's tendril ties, | London church-yards. Those remnants of barbaric which it seems alone bind us to life,-fading and ignorance which surely God uses as a scourge to drooping towards the grave, who can help thinking whip intelligence into the dull of soul and sordid of of the words of the American poet, “It was his heart; to show them, by the dread teaching of time to die;" and rejoicing over the merciful de- Death and Disease, that His laws shall be obeyed ! cree which gives the weary traveller rest at last? Or—for it is folly's reckoning which measures life Jasper and Lizzy Rivers are represented as by the number of years we have breathed—when people of ordinary merit and ability: they would they whom suffering and sensation have placed have sunk without assistance, and accordingly among the sages, are summoned to the unknown they are saved from perdition by the opportune sphere, who does not feel that perchance their des- | intervention of the benevolent character of the tinies have been more amply fulfilled than that of story-Mr. Warder--who places them in a conthe rustic who has vegetated a hundred years ? But
genial and industrious sphere of action, and all to see the withering of the bud that never shall | blossom, the human creature that on earth "shall |
| the good people are rendered happy in the last never develop; to whom the mysteries of life shall
chapter. never be set as a riddle to propound; to see the
| Two other stories conclude the volume; one young child the prey of disease, might surely dash
illustrating the state of the poor distressed with sadness the heart of the gay or callous.
needlewomen, and the other intended to show Poor Lizzy's child was the victim of early neglect; the mischiefs of a harsh and despotic treatment orphaned by cruel circumstances--not death. of children. But we have already occupied so
much space, that we have only room for the folThe poor child dies, and this is the picture of lowing brief remark on the advantage of cultithe mother watching by the little corpse ;came vating the affections of children cam