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Captain Symonds, and folding his robe round him, drew himself up to his utmost height, and said, “Hamoine, I promised you that the English law should be acted upon among my tribe. You refuse to punish this girl, because she was ignorant. The fault must be mine, for she is my daughter. If, then, there is an excuse for her, there can be none for me, who knew what was right, and who made the promise. Murder must be punished; and if she is not punished, the punishment must fall on me. Perhaps it is better; she is young, I am old. Take my life for that of the slave who has

been killed."

It was with great difficulty that Captain Symonds could persuade Te Waco that the ends of justice would not be answered by the substitution; but at last he was convinced, and taking his daughter by the hand, led her out of the

court.

We read some instances of a similar nature in ancient history, and which are pointed out to youth as examples of heroism and nobility of soul: but I doubt if there can be found one more honourable to the parties than this simple narrative I have given of the conduct of a New Zealand Chief.

AN ALPINE IDEA.

BY LORD JOHN MANNERS.

THRONED emblems of Eternity, that rear
Above the earth-born clouds your mitred snows,
Which
were, and are, and shall be to the close
Of this world's being, with hope-tempered fear
I fain would read, in
your
sublime repose,

A sanction for the humble course I steer
Through the entroubled torrent that o'erflows
The crumbling landmarks of our English isle.
Alike in Winter's frown, or Summer's smile,
In changeless Faith beseeming ancient Seer,
Your steadfast look to Heaven is raised; the while
From that fond aspect, blessing far and near,

Run the bright streams, that spread for many a mile-
Gifts weird as those of Egypt's mystic Nile.

GENEVA, August, 1842.

SONNET.

PETRARCH то LAURA.

BY MISS GARROW.

In the first hour of the first April day,

When beams the infant light most silvery clear, Thou-my heart's spring! didst first to me appear, Engirt by shrines of monumental gray

I saw thee, as the anthem died away,

New-risen from the sparkling depths of prayer, Thy green robe, violet sprinkled—thy bright hair Ensnaring in its nets each wandering ray. Thus art thou ever near me! tempering now The glare of triumph with sweet woodland peace, And fragrant airs from thy green mantle shed; Now kindling with calm looks a golden glow Amid the savage rocks and gloomy trees, And lifting, angel-like, my prostrate head.

THE GHOST OF THE PRIVATE THEATRICALS.

A TRUE STORY.

BY M. S.

I AM about to relate an incident which, though brief in its details, exercised an important influence over the whole of my life and character, partly from the distressing and singular nature of the circumstance itself, and partly because it occurred to me at an age when the fancy is peculiarly impressible, and the judgment, not having arrived at its maturity, is incapable of interposing as a check and a

corrective.

I must begin by stating that I am the youngest, and now the only surviving daughter of the ancient house of Edelstein. My family has long maintained its place in the front rank of the very noblest among the old and time-honoured baronial lines of Germany. Not one of its sons had ever cause to blush for the name he bore, either because it had been disgraced by another, or that it had lost somewhat of its spotless lustre in his own hands; neither has the foul tongue of slander ever dared to breathe the faintest whisper against the fair fame of any one of its daughters. I take a melancholy pleasure in thus retracing the glories of my house; and in reflecting that no hand, save that of ruthless and omnipotent Time, has had power to lay its honours in the dust. And the hand of Time himself, unceasingly active as it is in the work of destruction, has no power to efface the recollection of departed virtue, or wipe out the glorious memory of honour and of chivalry. On them it acts in the same manner as on

those stupendous reliques of art and genius, among which the traveller delights to wander, in ancient Greece or Rome. Their pomp their splendour-their symmetry, are indeed gone; but they are so beautiful and so stately in their decay -they tell so forcibly the history of an age that was greater than our own-that the beholder, while he feels deeply that not unpleasing melancholy which is engendered by the contemplation of a glory that is gone by, experiences at the same time the most enthusiastic and reverential admiration for the minds that could prompt, and the hands that could execute, such unrivalled works; and quits the spot, burning with the desire to imitate, though it be at a humble distance, that which is so noble and so lofty even in desolation.

My parents died while I was yet a child, leaving an only son to inherit the castle and barony of Edelstein, myself and one sister. Of her, at the period when my story commences, I retained but a faint and shadowy recollection, for she had been adopted, at the time of my father's death, by his brotherin-law, Count Sigibert von Halden, to whose eldest son she was betrothed from her cradle. I remained under the care of my paternal grandmother, who came to reside at Edelstein Castle for the purpose of superintending my education. She was a woman of vehement prejudices, among which a dislike to the family von Halden was one of the strongest and most unaccountable. The Count von Halden was a proud and somewhat hasty man, not slow to resent or return an injury with interest; and it was owing to the disagreements of two tempers so unmanageable, that I never saw my sister Hermine, save once or twice a year, on stated visits of formality and ceremony. During the three years which immediately preceded the event which I am about to narrate, I had not seen her at all, nor did I ever rightly understand the reason of this total separation, though I believe that it arose from some

quarrel, more than usually violent, between my grandmother and von Halden. We were, however, permitted to correspond, which we did frequently and affectionately; for neither of our guardians was so weak or so wicked as to regard the two innocent girls committed to their charge, as parties to their own causeless disunions.

I was sitting alone, in the twilight of a summer's evening, in that apartment of the castle appropriated to my own use, trying, as I often did, to recall the aspect and features of my beautiful sister, as I had last beheld her, on the day on which she completed her fifteenth year. I had now reached that age myself; and I was, perhaps, wondering whether there were any in whose eyes I was likely to appear as winning and as graceful as Hermine had then appeared in mine, when my meditations were interrupted by the sound of a rapid step advancing along the passage, and in another instant the door opened and my brother entered. I rose and flung my arms around him, uttering some expression of surprise and delight, for it was long since I had seen him. He had been completing his education at college, and, to my inexpressible sorrow and disappointment, had passed the last two vacations at the seat of the Count von Halden, instead of returning, as had formerly been his wont, to enliven my dull and uneventful solitude by the presence of one so deservedly dear to me. After the first emotions of joy and surprise were over, I had leisure to perceive that he was much grown, and improved both in face and figure, since I last saw him, and also that he wore a military uniform, which was in the highest degree becoming to his graceful and manly appearance.

"Yes, dearest Ida," said he, in answer rather to my looks than to my words; "yes, I am now a man and a soldier, but my heart is still the same as in boyhood; it still loves my dear little sister better than anything else in the world—almost.”

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