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had withered under the desolating touch of sorrow. Standing on the other end of the platform, was the accuser, with folded arms, and his eyes fixed on the ground; he was arrayed in a suit of armour, and a plumed helmet was on his head, but the raised visor still showed the same countenance which had startled Philip at his first interview; dark and sinister, and looking like a demon by the side of the fair victim. . A solemn oath was taken to disclose the participation of Marie in the murder of the young prince, and while he spoke the words which should condemn his companion, a deep silence reigned over the vast assembly. He declared that he had been employed by the queen to procure poison,
which having been disguised in sweetmeats was
given by the queen to the young Lewis in his presence, and that stung by remorse he had unburdened his conscience to the king, and pre
viously to the chamberlain. There was a low murmur, and the marshal addressing the queen, a thus spoke— , " " .
“Marie, queen of France, what hast thou to ão. guilty of this most heinous
... The queen replied, mournfully, “ It is as false.
as hell. * . hands I commit my cause.”
“Then, men; do your duty,” cried the officer;
“fire the pile.” *.
One step they advanced, but were arrested by a
cry from the royal balcony, commanding them to desist. It was the king, who, with outstretched hand pointed to the extremity of the list, where
a knight, attended by several esquires, was passing the barrier. “Sound, heralds, sound a loud
welcome to the stranger.”
od knows my innocence, and into his
Marie sank upon her knees, and, raising her
clasped hands to heaven, breathed a grateful
prayer; then, rising, called upon, the king
loud, clear voice for the right of a champion to defend her cause; she had recognised in the de
vice of the stranger, her well known family arms, of the house of Brabant, and she knew that the
assistance sne had sent to entreat was not asked
of woman's love, and that proudest act of age.
his son. Isaac for a wife, Jacob served Laban fourteen years for two wives. When David had Saul's daughter given in marriage, it was said,
dred fore-skins of the Philistines.” In the Iliad, gamemnon offers his daughter to Achilles for a
wife, and says that he would not demand fo any price. But those days are past, and wherever
such practices have prevailed, men could not
have for the fair sex that tender regard and es
teem which constitute so essential a part of the
eep to be food; and valued her only buted to his gratification. Innumer
3 * & v ---> | sections of husband, wife, lover, friend, he king desireth not any dowry, but an hun- * - - . . . . . . . . o.o. o. o . . . .
emand for her
vile and heavy clay from which the light which bore it upward
There is no reason to hesitate in saying that fl.
good wife is one of the most valuable treasures a man can possess in this life. She causes his . .
cares in this world to sit easy, adds sweetness to his pleasures, is his best companion in prosperity, and truest friend in adversity. She is the most careful preserver of his health, the kindest
attendant during his sickness, a faithful adviser in distress, a comforter in affliction, a prudent
manager of his domestic affairs, and, in short, one of the greatest blessings that heaven can be. stow upon man.
Should it, however, unfortunately prove otherwise, she will be her husband's greatest trouble, . will give him the utmost anxiety, and be a clog of
to him the remainder of life. Therefore we
would advise every young gentleman, before he tampers with this passion, to consider well the
| probability of his being able to obtain the object of his love. If he is not likely to succeed, he
will do well to avoid the company of the beloved
A cheekrur, evening party were assembled, some years ago, in Copenhagan, to celebrate the birth-day of a common friend. They were young and gay, but their mirth, which otherwise might have overpast the bounds of moderation, was chastened and restrained by the accidental presence of a guest, whose passive rather than active participation in the scene, whose silent and grave deportment, and whose sparing, and almost whispered replies, when addressed, formed a strange contrast with the festivity and liveliness of the rest of the company.
Those who were acquainted with him, nevertheless, maintained, that among his intimate friends, the stranger was an interesting companion, possessed of a great fund of anecdote and observation, and a power of investing, when he chose, with an air of originality and novelty, the
every-day occurrences and experiences of life.
This vein, however, he rarely indulged, and, in mixed society, could with difficulty be prevailed on to open his lips. When he did, however, he was listened to with attention and reverence; and often the noisy mirth of the party became gradually hushed as he poured out, in his calm solemn tone, his rich stores of anecdote and narrative. It seemed as if, on this occasion, the presence
of some friends whom he had not seen for some time past, had gradually disposed him to be more communicative as-the evening advanced, and dissipated that reserve which the loud gaiety of the party about him had at first inspired. The sparkling glass had circulated freely and frequently; song after song had, according to the custom of the country, enlivened the night, when some young wight, probably over head and ears in love, and anxious to let the world know it, commenced an air of Baggesen's, in which each guest, in his turn, sings a stanza, and drinks to the health of his mistress by her baptismal name, the company repeating the pledge in chorus. Ere the silent guest was aware, his turn had come. The host was filling his empty glass, and
pressing him to begin. He roused himself, as if
waking from a dream, and turning suddet round, said gravely, “Lêt the dead resto
peace.”—“By all means,” said the host, “ Sitiis, levis terra. And so we'll drink to their memory;
but come—you know the custom—a name we must have.” . . .
“Well, then,” said the stranger, quickly, “I will give you one that will find an echo in every breast—AMANDA.”—“Amanda!” repeated the