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SONNET. —EARLY AUTUMN.

BY M. s. W. HOuGH.

Sue stands, a gentle maiden, by me now,

With robe of beaming gold, and on her brow

A garland of the bright, yet faded leaves,

Whieh from the spoil of summer's wealth she weaves.

Her smile is bland; her breath is on my eheek

1 nspiring, grateful; but her murmurs speak

of long hours wasted in my summer past,

And of my autumn, that approaehes fast.

She eheers me then, with words of peaee and hope;

Through spirit-darkness bids me onwards grope;

With truth's opposers fires my soul to eope.

Oft 'mid her tresses gleams the frozen dow,

Yet will I love her life's long journey through,

So mild and gentle, yet so sternly true.

THREE SONGS FOR THREE BELLES.

ET MRS. P. P. LOMPAYRAE.
TO MISS C. S.

Love not too well, O maiden fair—

For those who love must weep;
And pity 'tis that tears should dim

Thy bright eyes* lueid deep:
Love not too well, love not too well—

For those who lovo must weep.

The dow whieh sparkles on the rose,;

Exhaled, aseends on high,
To fall, perehanee, e'er day be done,

In anger from the sky:
Love not too well, O gentle one—

For those who love must weep.

And elouds whieh in the sunlight glow

With purple and with gold,
Within their azure depths full oft

The lightning dire enfold: j
Thou of the gentle voiee and soft,

'Tis they who love must weep. j

No flower whieh opens to the day

But has its hour to fade,
And 'tis the fair sun's brightest ray

Whieh makes the deepest shade:
Love not too well, O maiden gay—

For those who love must weep.

Just like that rosy eloud is love,

Or like the sparkling dow,
It lures us on with witehing mien,

But hides its danger too:
The memory, e'en, of joy is pain, >

And those who love must weep.

TO MISS A. L.

Lovelv lady, gentle lady, s

Lady with the eyes of jet,
Upon the day when thou wast bom,;

Mirth and musie surely met.
There's sueh a glory in thine eyes,

Sueh sweet musie in thy tone,
That the very singing blrds

Well might elaim ft for their own.

Lovely lady, gentle lady,

Lady with the beaming eye, Will the hours of all thy life

Ever thus go laughing by? Will no sorrow eloud thy soul,

Will no eare disturb thy breast? Or will gentle dreams or faneies

Ever lull thee to thy rest?

Lovely lady, gentle lady,

Lady with the joyous air,
Softly may Time's withering hand

Toueh a brow so loved and fair.
Smile to-day, and smile to-morrow,

Smile the hours away,
Every smile is stol'n from sorrow—

Oh! be happy while you may!

TO MISS C. B.
I Rnow a maid of fairy mould—
Her hair is like the shining gold;
Her eheek is like a rosy shell;
Her lip, a flower-eup's erimson eell:
Oh! not a lovelier maid is seen
Than she, the maid of fairy mien.

Yet 'tis not that her starry eyes
Are bright as evening's humid skies,
That softly through eaeh elinging eurl
Looks out a brow of snowy pearl—
It is not this that hath arrayed
With sueh a eharm that lovely maid.

It is, that in those soft bright eyes

A soul enshrined ln beauty lies;

It is, that gentle tones and words,

Like melodies of singing blrds,

And loving deed, and loving thought,

A deeper spell than these have wrought.

AN ALPINE EVENING.*

BY EARLB J. GOODRICH.

The sun's golden tints gild the Alps* topmost height,
And gleam through the darkness that ehases the light
From vale up to mount, and the textureless pall
Of Silenee is flung o'er eottage and hall;
When, soft floating down, tones of sweetest aeeord
Load the air with an anthem of praise to the Lord.

From eottage to eottage, thy bleak hills among,
The tribute is sounded by every glad tongue;
The homage of man, at the still evening hour,
Is paid to the Being of merey and power:
And, floating all round, tones of sweetest aeeord
Swell the air with an anthem of praise to the Lord.

Man's homage hath eeased; but Nature prolongs
His burden of praises, and echoes his songs;
The grottoes and eaves, where thy heroes have trod,
Join man in his tribute of glory to God;
From valley and height, tones of holy aeeord
Boar nightly to heaven earth's praise to the Lord.

t I have somowhere read that, as the last rays of tho setting sun rest upon tho highest peak of the Alps, it is eustomary for tho shepherds to sound upon their horns "Praise to the Lord!" The phrase is repeated by the bead of eaeh family; and the eaves resound the eeho long after man's voiee has eeased.

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A N X A'S COTTAGE.

BY LELIA MOBTIMER.

I Am thinking of the eottage

Whero my gentle Anna dwells; Of the wind that through the forest

In its lulling musie swells;
Of the little rill that murmurs

At the garden's grassy foot,
And the thousand meek-eyed flowers

'Mid the velvet moss that shoot,

I am thinking of the maple,

With its thiek and tremhling leaves; Of the light wreath 'neath its branehes

That the golden sunlight weavesAnd of lowly whispered musie

At the quiet hour of even, When the stars with holy glanees

Look from out the azure heaven.

I am thinking of the arbor

Down amid the drooping flowers— And among the bending willows

Of the vine-elad, shady bowers; Of the footpath gently winding

Round eaeh low and mossy bed, And the moon-beams that at evening

O'er the dowy buds are shed.

i am thinking of the rose-tree

Climhing up the snow-white walls, And among the green leaves peeping

Swelling buds and erimson halls; Of the ivy o'er the trellis,

With its tendrils soft and elinging, And amid the leafy eurtain

Golden hirds their low notes singing.

i am thinking, I am thinking

Of a slight and fairy form—
Of a eheek now pale, now blushing,

And of lips all red and warm—
Of a brow of pearly whiteness,

And of eyes of deepest blue, Meek and gentle as a dovelet's,

Starry bright, and soft and true:

And of tresses brown and golden,

Floating out upon the air,
Like a pile of brilliant sunbeams,

Bright and gloriously fair!
Of a voiee whose softest murmur

Is like waters ereeping o'er
Clustering flowers, whose waxen leaflets

Bend below the gra&sy shore!

I am thinking of a window,

'Neath whose eurtain pure and white— Just where peeps the earliest day-dawn,

Shedding soft and rosy light— Stands a ehair with pale, soft rush tons.

Sits a slight form, weary, worn, From whose path the buds and blossoms

By rude fingers have been torn.

On the soft brow faintly linger

Touehes of life's early bloom, Though Time's peneil there hath painted

Shadows breathing of the tomb.

Snowy white the long, thin tresses
Baek from that pale forehead lie

While the sunlight, dim but gentle
Glimmers from the sunken eye.

Tis a mooter's brow that lightens

'Neath a daughter's loving faee; Tis a mother's eye that brightens

At her fond and warm embraee. And those pale and weary fingers

Nightly elasp above the head, Bound in beauty like a flow'ret,

On its green and dowy bed.

I am thinking of the maple

Bending o'er the eottage door; Of the streamlet, and the rose-tree

The low window elimblng o'er;
Of the pale one in its shadow,

And the fairy ever by,
With her tones of lulling musie,

And her hopeful, heaven-bjue eye.

ELSIBARDO.

BT JESSE BLOWE.

Where the Rhine enlaps the vineyards,

And hills with eolumns towered: Where the vales wear summer vestments,

Like bride with beauty dowered— Dwells the lord of Elathardo,

In his eastle on the steeps, Where the eagle builds his eyrie—

Where tho vulture proudly sweeps.

When the moon down in the river

Finds a mirror elear and eold, And the eountless stars in heaven

Have unveiled their eyes of gold, Does the lord of Elslhardo

Range the erags and valleys deep, Where the fountains in the moonlight

Their uneeasing murmur keep.

With his mantle wrapped around him.

And his unshorn hair in flow, Does he gaze from off the highland

On the vale and streams below; And the simple peasant, turning

From the vintage to his eot, Shuns the hill of Elsiberdo

As a wizard-haunted spot.

Wherefore frowns Lord Elsihardo

Whene'er shrilly at the gate * Calls the horse of weary horseman

As the day is waning late?
Ah! his soul is steeped in venom,

And his heart o'erflows with gall,
For his memory holds before him

The dark day of Wehdefa.ll:

Whieh beelouded o'er his boyhood

Like a heavy pall of yean,
For it left him lone and lonely,

Yet a heritage of tears;
And 'tis hid within his bosom,

Like a serpent 'mid the flowers—
But it dawns upon his vision

In the nightly watehful hours.

Morning shines on Elsihardo,

And a gay and laughing train, That is eireling up the highland <

From the smiling flow'ry plain; And HI'' pun lights up the shimmer

And the sheen of peaeeful spears, With the proudly pranefng horses.

Bearing gallant eavaliers.

Tis tho bride of Elsihardo,

With the lilies in her hair, That was vlsioned in tho valley

To her pallid lover there; And who now is sadly gazing

To diseern beyond the hill But one glanee of her whoso presenoe

Ever made his bosom thrill.

But alas for Elsihardo,

And tho maiden bending low,
Who is wedded to his life-grief,

To his agwny and woe I
And her youthful eheek is pallid

As the lilies in her hair:
Ay, the heart of Elsiberdo

lias a partner in despair

THE LITTLE GIRL'S INQUIRIES.

BT LILLIAN.

u Oh, mother," said a laughing girl,

With rosy eheeks and mild bluo eye,
Upon whose forehead many a eurl

Was nestling, tinged with auburn dye—
"Oh, mother, see the azure sky,

Arehing itself so sweet above,
As if it, from some danger nigh,

Would shield mo with its look of love.
On towering hills it seems to rest;

But, if I go to yonder hill,
I'm by the same sweet smiles earessed;

It arehes thus above me still 1
You told me the Almighty One

Spread oat this glorious eanopy,
And blessed the work when it was done;

But was it made alont for me?

"And, mother, see—oh, seo the sun!

And oh, 'tis sueh a glorious thing
I fain, when radiant day is done,

Would follow on some borrowed wing!
For, when it sinks behind yon hill,

How soothing seems its farowell ray I
As if 'twould gladly have me still

Behold it on its long, long wey I
And when, as eomes the blushing mom,

It sheds abroad its golden light,
And glories everywhere are born,

As reeompense for weary night,
It peeps my little window through,

And softly opes my long-elosed eyes,
As if it had its loveliest hue

Put on to make me glad to rise;
And ever, ever through the day

How bright it seems to smile on me!
Or, if dark elouds obstruct Its ray,

Brighter it shines whon from them free.

You say the same Almighty hand,
Dear mother, eaused the sun to be.

And now it shines at his eommand;
But does it shine alone for me!

"And then the silver moon—the stars,

Those ever sparkling gems of heaven, Whose rays, when night their way unhars

To eheer its dreariness are given! And whensoe'er I 've looked on them,

So beautiful and bright they've shone, Gilding night's sable diadem,

They seemed to beam for me alone t Mother, they say they 're angehT eyes,

That slumber not when we 're asloep; That they 're tho watehmen of the skies,

And their appointed vigils k-eep; And never weary at their post,

Beaming so bright and lovingly. But, mother, does that shining host

Wateh all the night alone for me!

"And, mother, whereso'er I go,

So gayly all things seem to smile, There is no joy I need to know

To gladden every hour the while. The breeze so gently fans my brow,

So gently waves my flowing hair,
So low the forest branehes bow,

As in obeisanee, everywhere!
So beauteous are the blushing flowers,

Robed in their gayest summer bloom,
To eheer so many weary hours,

And breathe around sueh sweet perfume; I wonder, mother, if they know

I love their eheerful smile to see, And therefore strive they thus to show

How lovely ever they ean be! Others I hear eomplaining, day /

By day, of gloomy hours they see; But, mother, I'm so happy, say,

Are all those sights of joy for me?"

"No, not alone, my ehild, for thee

Did God spread out the azure sky,
And eause the radiant sun to be

A sweet revealer to the eye
Of beauties mortals should not see

Without a grateful heart's employ
In praise and bending of tho knee

To Him who gives sueh seenes of joy! And not, my ehild, for Viee alone*

The moon beams forth with silver light; Nor that the twinkling stars ore known

To gild the gloominess of night;
Nor yot that flowerets shed perfume,

And eool, refreshing breezes blow—
That pleasures round life's pathway bloom

Wherever thou may'st ehanee to go.
No, no, my ehild. For for me,

For all these joyous seenes were made: In all a Father's love we see;

For man all were by nim arrayed; And, therefore, when we look on them,

To Him should grateful praise ho given, That, in our Saviours diadem,

We may, as suns and stars of heaven, At last shino on eternally I

Wouldst thou, my ehild, sueh honors share! Then ever bend a suppliant knee,

And raise to Heaven a thankful prayer

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The word "lingerie" whieh heads our artiele, will doubtless be unfamiliar to many of our readers, even theugh eonversant with the Freneh language. It is a term expressly used for the departments of fashion, and oeeurring eonstantly in the " Moniteur" "Lea Modes Parisienne," and the other leading journals of the same nature. Nor ean its introduetion into the "Book" bo eensured, smeo "Maison de Lingerie" is a sign one meets with in the prineipal theroughfares of our Atlantie eities, and our eountrywomen aro not supposed to bo in ignoranee of their objeet. Wo adopt the term, as many other Freneh phrases have been ineorporated into the voeabulary of fashion, beeause it best expresses what we wish to deseribe; for under this head eomes every speeies of garment that we here denominate "plain sewing." Unfortunately, hewever, for the veraeity of the last phraso, "white work" is now so mneh ornamented, that patterns at least must eome from a shep expressly devoted to this braneh of industry, whenee eomes the Mainon de Lingerie of Paris, where everything of an under wardrobe that ean be named is to be proeured.

While upon the subjeet, it is as well to remark that we now and then reeeivo remonstranees, not only against the introduetion of Freneh words, but of Freneh fashions, to our readers. The very persons whe pen them are prohably wearing eravats or eoats whese origin, if traeed, would be found to date from ovor the water. It is in vain to deny the faet, that Paris leads the world in point of taste and faney, and so it will be until the industrial arts are more eultivated and better paid among us. Sinee ladies—and gentlemen, too—will have new fashions, why not give them the most graeeful that aro produeed?

For instanee, wo have seen sueh an outery, and sueh a strife of tongues, over a new pattern of a night-eap, in a remote eountry village! It is diseussed by all the pretty maidens whe thriftily keep some too good for daily use for the siek-room, or, more frequently still, these whese bright eyes hav6 already a trousseau in prospeet. If ugly, it ia nevertheless new, and to be eopied. And think of the pretty faees disfigured by it for the next two years! How mueh better, then, to eheose really pretty patterns, even if they have had the misfortuno to be invented in Paris, and eome from thenee under the namo of lingerie!

At any rate, we have had the temerity to ehoose sueh for our lady readers; and, plaeing them in order, Nos. 1 and 2 will be fonud, perhaps, the most diffieult to eopy.

The first is eomposed of linen eambrie, or sheer jaeonet muslin, insertion, and edging. The erown pieee is eut very large, to reeeive the whole of the hair, plain at the top, hut gathered into a hand, with some fulness, at the sides. The front has a pioee eomposed of alternate rows of insertion, from whieh three ruffles, headed with eorresponding edging, extend; a similar one extends aeross the whole front. The strings aro very broad, and eneireled with eorresponding edging. These broad strings, or tabs, it will be notieed, form the prineipal novelty in eaps at the present time; they may be fastened aeross, under the ehin, with a small gold euffpin ; flr narrower strings, of white Mantua or eotton gauze ribbon, will allow them to be only an ornament.

No. 2 has a erown of tueked muslin or eambrie,

the same effeet, is open, produeed by rows of narrow insertion. Three frills of wide embroidery form the front. These, as in Nos. 1 and 3, are to be fluted.

No. 3 has a shallower erown pieee, and a front eomposed of alternate puffs aud insertion hands, with one frill of embroidered eambrie. Intended for an invalid, it has a fow knots of pale roseeolored ribbon at the side, with broad ends and strings of the same. This and the following will be found very neat and beeoming shapes.

No. 4, as will easily be seen, is made entirely in a elose shape, from the broiderie Anglaue, or thiek eambrio edging, so fashionablo for underpleeves when first introdueed. Cape and strings of the same; the last formed by simply uniting the embroidery in the eentre, so that the seollops form a surrounding edge.

We would eommend the illustrations of this artiele espeeially to the eonsideration of our readers, as eut by the young lady pupils of the " Philadelphia Sehool of Design." As the work of our own sex, they have an espeeial interest, and ehallenge eomparison with any other of the wood-euts in the present number.

CARRYL'3 WINDOW AND EED DRAPERIES.

(See Plate.)

Sixee our last notiee of Mr. Carryl's beautiful establishment, a greater ehange in his stoek of goods than even lie eould have antieipated has been wrought. A fire in the upper stories of the largo now freestone building in whieh it is situated spared the exquisite fabries, it is true, but the deseending floods of water wero as ruinous as the flames eould have been.

When we next entered the rooms, a far different sight from the usual graee and eloganee presented itself. The floor was strown with torn and damp stained laees, gimps, or even heavier and more eostly fabries—piles of rieh but tarnished eorniees —boxes of half-ruined broeatelles—hales of soiled velvets, no longer regal in eoloring. The draperies about the windows and on the walls hung in drooping, disordered folds, stained and torn away here and there as if in the hurry of some grand eommotion. The very eeiling had grown shabby with the strips of wall paper peeling from the plaster, mueh of whieh strowod the floor and rustled beneath our feet.

But now, order and graee are again trinmphant. Not a vestige of the eonflagration or its effeets remains. No eheap damaged goods; no "eorniees a little bruised and stained, at a very low priee." Mr. Carryl has had the good taste and energy to elear away all the wreek, and supply the plaee of a

stoek that had been aeeumulating from spring to fall, from fall to spring again, by entirely now orders, of the very latest design, finish, and exeeution. The now patterns are worth a minute examination, beauty of design and eoloring being notieeable, as every year inereases the demand, and eonsequently the outlay, upon these expensive fabries.

Some of our readers will seareely bolievo that large and superbly illustrated volumos ore every year devoted exelusively to now designs for drapery. Not for the material, that is the work of the pattern designer, and never exhihited to the world exeept in the eompletion of what his drawing bos suggested. But when they are manufaetured, and ordered, and lying upon the shelves, there is still artistie taste needed in eomhining and arranging the different fabries, and tho folds and eross-folds and flutings into whieh thoy ore to fall.

Now as all our fashions eome from over the sea, and will, until taste and art are more eultivated at home, we have before us a large and beautiful volume furnished by Mr. Carryl, eontaining fifteen finely engraved and eolored plates devoted to draperies alone. For windows, easements, mirrors, and their appropriate eorniees, and ornaments; in some, the arrangement of an entire saloon is given, and a single bed fills another plate. The deviees of some of the eorniees are extremely graeeful, the

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