ing leave of her pet, her arms about his neck. "Wont be long, Dosy, wull 'ou?" and then her utterance choked up by her feelings-she could say no more.

"Come, don't be a fool, mother; I'll come back in twenty-four hours."

"Wouldn't-mind it, if I hadn't- hadn'thadn't had such a dream! A wicked woman, I dreamed, set-set-set her trap!-trap!-trap!"

"Oh! never mind women's traps, mother; you'll rumple my bosom. I shall have to dress over again. Good bye," and he tore himself away from the dolorous Mrs. Goslin.

The reader's attention is now requested to the gentleman just opposite, upon the sunny side of Broadway, I mean the tall, well made, and elegant person, right foot in advance, the left reposing gracefully in the rear, and kissing his fingers to the lady descending from her coach-as one of those Mercuries that, standing by the chimneys of great houses, at utmost stretch from the forefinger to the great toe, hold out a candle. (Great sensation!) Who can he be?

"From the South, I believe, sir,-one of the distinguished families thare. A Carolinian--no, a Virginian."

No, of Kentucky-heard of him. A fellow of spirit too, they say-one of the best shots of the country."

"Mistaken--he resides in one of those splendid houses of the Girard Row, Philadelphia."

"All three in error, gentlemen -- a NewYorker, for a certainty--has half a million in the stocks, and sports the best equipage in Broadway. He is son of old Timothy Goslin, the rich Wall Street broker."

Female curiosity, too, stood tiptoe. "Did you ever!" exclaimed Miss to another Miss of the haut ton, tying her shoe, (the New-Yorkers excel in little feet) "Do you know, Julia, I am charmed with this shoe-string? (Never saw any one so handsome!) Isn't it lovely? In short, the whole shoe is heavenly!" They vanish like a mist.

64

Vraiment! jolies. demoiselles --lestes et pimpantes-j'en suis enchanté. Pursues them with his glass his gold snuff-box gracefully balanced between the white gloved thumb and finger-and then proceeds onwards, with servant, baggage and barouche, moving slowly at the way. side. Prefers to walk-a gentleman's figure is lost in a coach. And now, fronting the printshop, wonders at the mimic world. Ascot Races," a "Butterfly," "St. Peter's," "Elssler refuting the gravitation," and "Joe Smith." The attitude a study for a sculptor -- chin protruded, and feet eminently gracely; a pickpocket in the meanwhile removing his handkerchief. And now by the fashionable shop, upright, admires--not the cashmeres so artistly arranged, and doubled in mirrors, and silks so rich they stand alone-but the figure that in the distance forms the elegant

counterpart of oneself. Hush! Mr. Goslin is going to speak.

"Why she goes to-day home, that's all, and I accompany her."

"Peru to sixpence!"

"Between you and me-Van--"

"Not a word of it. Do I believe--why, she is a perfect Amazon, with no more conscience at killing a lover, than her chambermaid a flea. I came into her room only two days ago, she was at her embroidery, and a young gentleman sat near, flushed in the face, and twirling his hat on his knee, looking confused. I made a movement to retire. Oh, come in,' said she, 'it's only a declaration.''

"Hah! hah! hah!"

"And this inexorable woman, all at once falls in love with you."

"Hah! hah! hah! I like inexorable women." "Goslin! it's a gasconading world. Take care, I warn you. She has the bump of destructiveness horribly large."

"I'll show you her note, if you are incredulous --of this morning--perhaps you will believe. No -yes-no-I've left it."

"After all is it quite fair to expose the lady's weakness for you?"

"Did not every body see it-if she herself exposed it?"

-

Fiz-s-s-s-s - the steamboat pours its reeking smoke, and dims the town. Ding-dong! dingdong! Hacks, cabs, wheelbarrows, porters, black and white, idlers, travellers, jostling each other, and hurrying luggage in at the last moment, tongues are set loose, the din of Babel. "Spirit of the Times!" "Horrible Murder!"-the steam is off, the paddles move. A rosy youth wipes away a tear, and imprints the parting kiss upon his sweetheart's lips, long lingering. "Hallo, what are you about there," roars the captain, "hawl in them ropes." The boat is off; a fat man is running down the hill, holding up his red umbrella. Stop! stop!" and the little wharfrat, his thumb on his nose, "No!"

66

And now, like a great goose that flaps its wings and tries to rise above the surface, the Arena paddles her way through the lubberly Hudson, covered with craft of all sorts, ten thousand at a look; frigates, barges, scullers, skiffs, the grave EastIndia-man, moving with solemn gravity towards the dock; the gilded wherry scudding along, beautiful as Cleopatra's, the air love-sick with clustered ladies and their cavaliers; and a pitchy cloud of coal boats, with swarms of smutty coal heavers, which float with the tide, knocking against each

other, or warp inwards with the west wind; and steamers at the wharf-side, that lie fizzing or puffing, and blustering, set out on their voyages"British Queens," "Great Westerns," "Britannias"-and streak the heavens with their smoke, whilst a whole fleet, with streaming masts, crowd around-as the multitude around some eminent person, Boz or Fanny Elssler-and caress the great city.

Clouds, fleecy and dark, were scattered on the firmament thinly, and presented these beautiful objects to the senses, now overcast with shade, now glimmering in tremulous light, or blazing in the sun, or glittering in the molten silver of its rays:-Long Island and its sumptuous villas, thriving plantations, fields ploughed and vivid green, hedges and farm-houses peeping through the trees, with the smoke circling over their summits, and the sweet romantic banks of the Hudson, and its waters losing themselves in the dis

tance.

Mr. Goslin stood leaning gracefully over the balustrade and eyed the receding city, now become low and squat, and looking like a goose's nest; the pigmy multitudes upon the wharves, domes, pinnacles, and overtopping spires, all melted away, all but the Astor House, and like dim shadows flitted indistinctly; and were shrouded at last from Mr. Goslin's vision-so often at the theatre Mr. Goslin had watched the scene close upon Grisi, till her plumed cap, and glittering crown, and lovemaking eyes, and the embroidered tail of her queenly robe and sandalled feet, were hidden by the envious curtain, and the last note of her divine voice had melted in the harmony above. And now Mr. Goslin looked about for Roxalana.

She sat pensive at a book. She had already seen her hero, had heard of his boasts, and guessed at his purpose. She seemed to read, but meditated. Quick he was at her side. She received, with a sweet affability, his salute, and through the day wore an air of affectionate kindness that won him wholly to her favour, and brought out his most officious attentions. Did her handkerchief fall? it was spread upon her lap; was her shoe loose? it was tied with the prettiest compliment to her darling little foot; did she want a pin? his pincushion was at her service. And round and round the steam-wheel whirled, and up and down the deck promenaded the joyous pair, sociable and familiar, as the first honey-moon were in the glass. Tinkle! tinkle! went the bell, and the easy, confiding, fascinating Rox hung herself to the arm of the triumphant Theodosius, who, seated by her at the festive board, selected her dishes. She eat a little bit of fresh herring a la braise, after a little soup ana lentils, with a little burgundy; then a cottelette en papillotte; a little plate of beuf a la Psyché, with the side dishes, and a little slice of dinde aux truffles de Perigord, and finished off with game and dessert. Every thing he praised, she praised, every thing he offered her was discreetest, best.

"How like you that sauce, madam?" "Delicious!"

"Strange, how our tastes concur."

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"I shall have a better opinion of my judgment in sauces." (They touch glasses.)

44

'Dear soul!" said Mr. Goslin to himself, "how she loves me." Indeed, so it seemed. In her requests the most simple,-if she but said, "give me a bit of that omelette soufflé," it was instinct with the tender passion, and when Mr. Goslin laboured to dislocate the tough wing of a goose, Roxalana would labour too. It was like the vivacity of the child, whose face, gesture, tone, words, every thing expresses the transient emotions of feeling with which the bosom is possessed.

By such enchantments she coiled herself about the heart and fascinated the senses of the unwary youth, who to his ruin rushed headlong

"As hurls the moth her wing

Against the light wherein she dies."

The Jersey sands were left at the heels of the car at the rate of two minutes a mile, but with no event worthy of memory, except the usual ones of horses getting into fits by the way-side, cows staring, then running away, and the very trees seeming to scamper off in fright at the engine, that moved on puffing and suffocating like a mon. ster in a passion, or blustering like a bully through the forest. Alas for the poetry of travelling! Our refinements of art, are they to be bought every one at the expense of romantic beauty? We have for the coach and noble steeds, with winding path through the wood, a straight-onward, monotonous railroad; a lubberly steamboat for the graceful schooner with canvas spread to the winds, and curtseying her way among the waves; a ploughed field, a heath, or congregation of stumps for the virgin forest; noisy stocking-looms for the matronly knitters, and for burring wheels and distaff, greasy and rattling spinning-jennies; and, what for the graceful bow and quiver?-that straight unmeaning thing-a gun. The archer, too, so delightful even in a picture-alas, no arch

ers now

"but the little rogue-that lies Concealed in Roxalana's eyes."

I travelled this same road when there were events. The jostling against one's neighbour was an event, a wondering what the lady just opposite was thinking about one was an event; and there were bobbing of heads together in a sleep, leanings up to this side, and that side, besides stallings and upsettings, and smotherings with trunks and petticoats, and taking refuges in lone and bedless cottages for the night-all these were events. There was something, too, in the sudden bobbing up and down on a stony or corderoy road that inspired merriment-which always set the little girls a-giggling; they seemed to be jumping the rope. We used to stand still also, at times, to

enjoy a delicious prospect, and sometimes we entered a lone village in the evening twilight, perhaps of the melancholy Indian summer, winding round a hill, when the steeple of the village meeting-house and low dwellings, and the sheep and cows with tinkling bells, and an old woman gathering withered sticks at the way-side, a poor donkey tied to an empty trough, "while earthward hangs its moveless head;" little pigs, too, which had bitten one another's tails off, and drivers' boys that looked like fiddle-cases, and fifty other rural images, grew upon the vision gradually-furnishing pleasurable variety to the traveller, and to English and German tourists matter for books-all now reduced to a simple sense of locomotion and the bursting of a boiler!

Roxalana and her gallant sat speechless at the side of each other, the wind fanning its sweet breath gently in their faces. But they spoke, nevertheless. It was one of those occasions in which words spoil conversation. Looks are love's short-hand, love's cypher, love's stenography, (no laconism can equal them,) love's cyptigraphy, love's dictionary. But suddenly a storm, frowning like an angry demon over-head, poured down a deluge of rain with muttering thunder. Mothers pressed their babies closer to their bosoms, and Roxalana sat up closer to Theodosius. He conceived a noble courage from the sense of protection, and to show his security, as persons not afraid of ghosts in a graveyard, whistled, and sometimes hummed softly little scraps of Latin about-pone me pigris and salagen amabo.

"Good heavens!" everybody suddenly exclaimed. It was a clap so loud it silenced "the Vesuvius," and Mr. Goslin, in a convulsion, sent Rox head to head bang against a Frenchman. 'Mercy!" she cried-Merçi, the Frenchman interpreting it, restored her with a smile, and had a good opinion of her wit. Mr. Goslin recovered, too, and wiping the dust from his coat, renewed his assiduities, and the lady's affectionate words soon restored him to his wonted courage. He remembered that the famous Albuquerque, on a similar emergence, placing an infant on his shoulder, stood out serene amidst the lightnings. As the Portuguese hero was secure in the innocence of the child, so felt our hero as he looked upon the innocent face of the fair Rox, and so he clung to her during the rest of the storm, as a kind of life-preserver; he seemed to owe her his safety, and loved her the more. It was an unusual storm, so black and thick that tobacco-juice-blacker somewhat than Erebus--was mistaken by foreign travellers for the "ripping up of feather beds." Our travellers now are grazing along the broad and squat Pennsylvania. The storm is hushed; its last mutterings have rolled along the flinty ribs of the Lehigh, and expired in the distant valley of the Lackawanna! The gorgeous rainbow had spanned the two Jerseys and faded into air;

* See Notes for Circulation.

the vernal sun has returned more bright and joy. ous from its temporary obscuration, and brought into vision a hundred pretty rural images. Bristol boys playing by the margin of the stream, and making little stones skim along its smooth surface a boat covered by ladies and their gallants, passing by-see how the oars dip simultaneous, bend under the vigorous arm, struggle with elastic spring, then stand, dripping together, dip again, leaving far behind a rough path, and like a lighting bird, with wings outstretched, it approaches the shore. Mr. Biddle's Andalusia, too, heaves to view its grapery and luxurious gardens, where Flora has unbuttoned her prettiest buds, her daisies, honeysuckles, jessamine, heartsease, and coy strawberry, that hides its blushes underneath the leaf. A grave old robin is sitting on a bough, and a hundred birds are playing about in their pea-green jackets, some a little drunk with the too much spices, and a white goose is standing on the bank-another goose underneath the stream, its own antipodes.

There are two kinds of historians—one confining itself to a simple narrative of facts, another assigning causes and effects, and tracing motives of human action, and digressing sometimes from the direct path to enjoy the shade and gather flowers by the way-side. I belong to the latter class. Now I return.

"Mr. Goslin," said Rox, in the sweetest voice, (for her voice was of such musical sweetness that the listener would often sit for hours, not heeding what she said, bewildered with its harmony,) "do you see that goose? It was a goose that saved the capital when the Gallic knife was at its throat. And the shadow too, you see, is prettier than the goose. It is thus the mind reflects the images of things, and gives them back improved, as in this flattering mirror. Why don't you talk, Mr. Goslin! You see the night is coming on, and there is Philadelphia spread out before you. I was born there, and you don't admire it; you don't admire any thing."

Theodosius was pensive. I have told you he was a good-hearted man, having rather a large bump of conscientiousness. He saw the lady's fondness for him-he felt in his heart she was excusable. But-but-to leave Miss Jewbilly, and Miss Singo, and Miss Gabbul, and all the rest, to marry this lady only, unless her fortune and rank, scarce to be hoped for, were equal to his own, gave him pause. No, he could not think of ittherefore he was pensive.

Rox had the power, when she took it into her head, of being very miserable. She had an easy expansion of the lachrymal glands; so she set a tear struggling into both her pretty eyes, which, trying to hide, she discovered. Theodosius was moved, and, grasping her hand abruptly, he kissed it. A little curl came upon her nether lip, but suddenly was smooth again. Who has not seen a lady but in her dainty aspect, knows little of her charms, as little as of her temper. A woman in

tears doubles her beauty; she must be seen in her anger, her love, delight, sorrow, and the various affections to which the human countenance is subject, and by which it is irradiated. He had seen her in her ordinary conditions, never so enchanting as now. Venus herself, to accomplish his ruin, seemed to have kindled divine honours in her eyes, and to have breathed upon her whole frame the purple light of youth and beauty. Damages are given for the deceptions practised upon woman, but is there no indemnity for the more potent seductions of the other sex? no retributive justice against those who delude thus our unwary heads of their reason, thus cheat our unsuspecting hearts of their affections? From this moment Mr. Goslin was her victim. His scruples were overcome entirely. He looked and looked upon her till his heart struggling, and almost afraid of its own voice, burst into a fervid protestation-"Dear Rox! I swear!"

She affected inattention. "That house, sir;that palace that looks so lordly forth? why that's the madhouse! They keep mad folks in it. It is very silly too. Why don't they turn them out with the rest? You see the building is immensethe work itself of a city. One to put the sane people in would not be half so large."

By degrees the emotions subsided, and conversation again assumed the subdued and fashionable tone. They said litttle nothings, and told each other what both knew already: and then they surveyed from afar the low-lying city, its warehouses pushing one another, for lack of room, into the river--its collossal banks, and prisons, and fifty religions lifting up their spires, and the Girard College, standing nobly upon its acropolis, and the dimpled hills beyond, so sociably lying by the side of each other, till day shut its eyes, and the night spread its broad brim upon the city of Penn.

The stars soon were lighted up, and the atmosphere being purified by the storm, they seemed as if set in the clear marble of the sky, and the dainty moon shone brightly, and our lovers, seated on the verge of the deck, looked out upon the blue waters silvered by its beams.

Among the romantic incidents of a traveller's itinerary, is the coming on of a still evening at sea, or upon wide bays and rivers. There is a faint, soft whispering of winds, and plaintive murmur of waters meeting and mingling, and ladies' tongues in the night. Nor is the modulation of rougher noises, of chattering engines, or whirl and flutter of steam-wheels, with the tittillating movement, without its expression; and there is now and then the splash of an oar, and confused din of broken voices softened in the distance-all which, in the phantoms of night, swell the heart with a mystic and sentimental inspiration.

Such scenes invite to silence till the bosom overflows and seeks relief in words-words often but the shadows of dreamy, indistinct perceptions.

"When we are moonbeams, Mr. Goslin," said Roxalana, " we will play upon the waters thus;

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109

or we will dive into the abysses and sport with the sea-spirits in their crystal grottoes; or, should we become little rays of sun, why then we will gild the clouds, and sleep upon their soft bosoms, or travelling together through this bright galaxy, listen to the harmony of its infinite orbs, not one of which, Mr. Goslin,

'But in its motion like an angel sings,

Still quiv'ring to the young-eyed cherubim.' What delight will it not be, escaping from the dull earth, to hold intercourse with beings of pure mind-to converse, as they say the mesmeric sleepers do, in thought only, without the intervention of imperfect words to cloy the imagination, and chill the brightness of its inspirations." Rox's thoughts here grew too big for the inexpressive tongue, and she was mute, and Mr. Goslin put his forefinger on his bump of ideality.

"Why did I not know you but a month ago," she continued, "when sitting here alone, I looked out upon our late celestial visitor, the comet? You would have told me, why comets have tails, some a hundred million of miles in length, some, like great Bashaws, three or four tails, and some no tails at all; and what they are made of, for alas, weak and ignorant woman that I am, I don't know. Coma means hair, don't it, Mr. Goslin? and so you see, that curry-comb and comet, with such unequal dignities in worldly esteem, have the same etymological descent.

"Poor lost Ariadné! that is she in the low north, and at her side Mercury's sweet mother, Merope, the only one of the seven who married a mortal; and that Syra, with her jewels on her toes, the one of ruby, as you see, and the other of milder emerald; that with languid and voluptuous light upon the horizon, I believe 'tis Venus, and that Andromeda. She who kindles her dim ineffectual lamp, so black and glaring, with a light of ebony-'tis Berenice's streaming hair; and those the Hyads-they are crying stars; poor things! they seem to take a sympathy in human affairs." Here Rox's voice became inarticulate, and she cried a little too.

Mr. Goslin, though he did not know Venus from the Great Bear, was delighted with the fair astronomer, and still listened for the accents of her voice, after she had ceased to speak, and sat in deep reverie-a kind of moony influence, light without heat, which bewildered his senses. He had an indistinct vision of some weeping Hyad, some Berenice, in glossy ringlets in Broadway, or Beecher street, inconsolable for his absence; or he wandered (for the mind knows no distances) into St. James's, to the Queen's, and looked up agaze upon that great milky way which encircles the Opera of a court night, till Elssler's twinkling feet superseded the stars, and Grisi got between him and the spheres. Then, waking up together, the conversation, as if without interruption, again

went on.

And Theodosius was more and more charmed

--charmed with the music of her voice, though he comprehended nothing of its meanings, and summoning the entire force of his resolutions, concluded, not indeed without some sympathy for the disappointment of others, and much reluctance at becoming so soon a victim of matrimony, that if the lady's fortune bore any proportion to her sense and beauty, he would absolutely marry her this time there was fate in his determinations, and in the heat of his resolve, seizing her hand, with a soft, affectionate squeeze, pressed it to his bosom. "Dear Roxalana," he said timidly, "if to love thee be a sin, (she almost relented, so sincere he seemed in his declaration.) then am I the most offending soul!" Bang! the boat went against the wharf, upsetting the speech, the speaker, and the audience.

Rox on the instant was on foot, and aiding Mr. Gosiin to rise, hoped he was not hurt.

And now the happy couple were soon seated by each other in a coach, and pursuing their way through a blaze of gas-lights for miles through the city; through this street, through that, now west, now south, drew up in front of a magnificent mansion, and passing through a garden, with statuary in front, entered the saloon.

You will now use this mansion as your own, Mr. Goslin. And, indeed, whoever uses the gifts of fortune, is, for the time being, the rightful owner. Nothing is ours absolutely. So for tonight, dear sir, you will be owner, as much as I myself am owner. I will be absent for a while, just to change this incommodious dress, and while absent let me hope - I shall be with you still. Adieu, dear Theodosius." Her tongue faltered in uttering these last words, scarce knowing whether they were sincere or ironical, and she vanished.

"This is indeed a conquest--an empire. It is a palace fit for a prince. Oh, I'll marry her. My mind is made up. She must be a lady of great respectability. Yet I took no pains to win her affection. This happens only to me. My resolution is fixed. Henceforth I abjure them all, all, and to thee, sweet Roxalana; to thee alone, I dedicate my life." And now Mr. Goslin walked about, settled his looks in the glass, then sat by the wndow, his chin upon his hand, in an Idylic attitude, looking out upon the night.

"When I am lord of the domain, a graceful and airy fence shall take place of this haggard wall. For the sable figure in the centre, a jet d'eau, or image of the snowy Parian marble-- perhaps a Saturn, with grave aspect, holding out a dial-graceful tulips, kiosks, summer houses-and I'll enliven them with Eolian harps, and in the distant angle, hidden in the trees, I'll build a cottage where shall be a column of smoke rising up slowly among the branches, and bringing to the mind the fancy

'Of some hermit's cell, where by the fire

The hermit sits alone.'

How softly the moon reposes upon the shrub.

bery! and how still is every thing around! not a footstep heard upon these silent walks!" He continued to look out till his fancy grew wild and full of conceits. He seemed to see the tiny elves that through the day sleep in rose-buds playing hide and seek among the shrubs, and now and then flitting by, a ghost wrapped in a moon-light shawl. There came softly through the doubtful light a gray cat on velvet steps, and would stand motionless awhile, as of marble, in the penumbra of a rose-tree, then with stealthy, noiseless foot move onwards a few paces and again stand still, as if communing with some devilish spirits of the night. A little fairy too came and walked with printless foot upon the cowslips and buttercups, and a bird now and then would talk a little in its sleep.

(A scream!)-"Bless me, what's that! (another!) Angels and ministers!-I hope nothing has happened to the lady. I'll ring" (enter keeper) Is any thing the matter with the lady?"— "With the what?"-" With the lady?"-" Oh, yes, we understand-the lady. She'll be here presently." (Exit.)

"Understand! - the lady! - what means the fellow?-But she will explain all presently-(sits down again)-A dismal light this"-(The door ajar opens softly and a spectral figure enters in a black suit glazed and torn, his right finger in the air, in his left hand a manuscript.)

"If a man has his wits in a community of madmen, they thrust him into bedlam. Death and torment! and why do I bear it?-Hush!-'tis only fancy. They sleep! it is the keeper's room-And now to the work-There is no quailing now"— (He rushes on Mr. Goslin and stabs him with the manuscript-a scuffle ensues, and shouts follow -enter keepers, exit maniac.)

Mr. Goslin stood for a while motionless, arms pendant, knees introverted, and speechless. A ray of light now crossed his brain, and his spirits rallied. His eye kindled, his bosom swelled, and at length the tempest burst. The chair he had held for a defence against the mad poet, he grasped again and smashed into small pieces upon the hearth. Then attempting to escape brought on a struggle, in which he was stunned with a blow and overcome. After a reasonable time recovering, he found himself straight-waistcoated and seated in his cell upon a straw cot. Preparatory to blistering, the physician had caused him to be shorn of his mustaches, whiskers, and the waving locks of both temples-which seeing, like Samson's, his courage left him altogether, and pressing his dishonoured face within his two hands, he wept aloud.

During the first part of the night his fits of anger were frequent, succeeded always by relapses into tears and resignation. Then he walked about his little room killing one by one the creeping moments, for they seemed to crawl upon his back, till past midnight, when worn out by his emotions he stretched himself upon his straw.