Caroline, died young.

Georgiana, married first to Ralph Smith, of Gaybrook, county of Northampton, Esq., and secondly, to Pierce O'Bryen Butler, of Dunboyne Castle, county Meath, Esq.

Maria, married to the Marquess Marius d'Espinasse de Fontenelle.

Jane.

Louisa Anne, married to Count Auguste de
Fontenelle.

Mary.

Amelia.

ARTHUR ALGERNON CAPEL, Esq., the eldest son and heir-presumptive to the Earldom of Essex, born 27th January, 1803, wedded, on the 14th July, 1825, the LADY CAROLINE JANETTA BEAUCLERK, third daughter of William, eighth Duke of St. Alban's, and has issue, Arthur de Vere, born 22nd July, 1826, Reginald Algernon, born 3rd October, 1830, Alfred, born 28th March, 1832, Adela Caroline Harriet.

THE LANGUAGE OF GEMS.

BY FRANCES OSGOOD.

FAIR Flora of late has become such a blue,

She has sent all her pretty dumb children to school; And though strange it may seem, what I tell you is true, Already they've learned French and English by rule.

Bud, blossom, and leaf, have been gifted with speech,
And eloquent lips breathing love in each tone,
Delighting such beautiful pupils to teach,

Have lent them a language as sweet as their own.

No more is the nightingale's serenade heard;

For Flora exclaims, as she flies through her bowers,

"It is softer than warble of fairy or bird!

'Tis the music of soul-the sweet language of flowers!"

No longer the lover impassioned bestows

The pearl or the ruby ;-in Hope's sunny hours

He twines for his maiden a myrtle and rose

'Tis the echo of Love, the pure language of flowers.

But the pearl and the ruby are sadly dismayed;
I saw a fair girl lay them lightly aside,

And blushingly wreathe, in her hair's simple braid,
The white orange flower that betrayed her a bride;

And I fancied I heard the poor jewels bewail,

At least they changed countenance strangely, I'm sure; For the pearl blushed with shame, and the ruby turned pale :Indeed 'twas too much for a stone to endure.

And I who had ever a passion for gems,

From the diamond's star-smile to the ruby's deep flame; And who envy Kings only their bright diadems,

Resolved to defend them from undeserved shame.

What are jewels but flowers that never decay,
With a glow and a glory unfading as fair?

And why should not they speak their minds if they may ?
There are sermons in stones," as all sages declare.

And a wild" tongue of flame " wags in some of them too,
That would talk if you'd let it—so listen awhile;
They've a world of rich meaning in every bright hue-
A ray of pure knowledge in each sunny smile.

Then turn to the blossoms that never decay,

Let the learned flowers talk to themselves on their stems, Or prattle away with each other to-day ;—

And listen with me to the Language of Gems.

The Diamond emblem of Genius would seem,

In its glance, like the lightning, wild, fitful, divine—
Its point that can pierce, with a meteor-gleam,
Its myriad colours-its shadow and shine.

And more in that magic, so dazzling and strange,
Let it steal from Apollo but one sunny ray,
It will beam back a thousand that deepen and change,
Till you'd fancy a rainbow within it at play.

Fair Truth's azure eyes, that were lighted in heaven,
Have brought to the Sapphire their smile from above,

And the rich glowing ray of the Ruby is given,
To tell as it blushes of passionate Love.

The Chrysolite, clouded, and gloomy, and cold,
Its dye from the dark brow of Jealousy steals,
But bright in the Crystal's fair face we behold
The image of Candour that nothing conceals.
Young Hope, like the spring, in her mantle of green,
Comes robed in that colour, soft, pleasant and tender,
And lends to the Emerald light so serene,

That the eye never wearies of watching its splendour.

The rosy Cornelian resembles the flush

That faintly illumines a beautiful face, And well in its lovely and tremulous blush May Fancy the emblem of Modesty trace.

While Joy's golden smile in the Topaz is glowing,
And Purity dwells in the delicate Pearl,
The Opal each moment new semblances showing,
May shine on the breast of some changeable girl.

Serene as the Turquoise, Content ever calm,

In her pure heart reflects heaven's fairest hue bright, While Beauty exulting in Youth's sunny charm, Beholds in the Beryl her image of light.

To the beaming Carbuncle, whose ray never dies,
The rare gift of shining in darkness is given,

So Faith, with her fervent and shadowless eyes,

Looks up, through Earth's night-time of trouble, to Heaven.

There's a stone-the Asbestos-that, flung in the flame,
Unsullied comes forth with a colour more pure,
Thus shall Virtue, the victim of sorrow and shame,
Refined by the trial, for ever endure.

Resplendent in purple, the Amethyst sparkling,

On Pride's flowing garments may haughtily glow, While Jet, the lone mourning-gem, shadowed and darkling, And full of sad eloquence, whispers of Woe.

But thousands are burning beneath the dark wave,

As stars through the tempest-cloud tremblingly smile,

Or wasting their wealth in some desolate cave,

And talking perchance like the rest all the while.

Then wreathe of the blossoms that never decay,

A chaplet, dear maiden, that fair brow above,
But within, wear their prototypes, purer than they,
Faith-Hope-Truth and Innocence-Modesty—Love.

And while in each jewel a lesson you see,

While one smiles approval-another condemns,
I'm sure you will listen, delighted with me,
To a language so true as the language of Gems!

HORACE LESLIE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF THE ISLAND BRIDE."

WHEN We have just put off the trammels of childhood, and look abroad into the busy world from the distant eminence, every thing seems invested with the freshness and beauty of paradise. There appears every where before us but one attractive and bland prospect. All that is rugged lies softened in the distance; all that is repulsive is so blended with the beautiful as to escape the careless scrutiny of the young and ardent enthusiast. The fair valley smiles, and the mountain towers sublime, but the treacherous bog may stagnate within the one, and the grim precipice yawn behind the other. Thus, to the unpractised perceptions of the young, all objects are magnified or diminished according to the bias of their hopes, their prejudices, or their passions. They are either steeped in the hues of beauty, or curtailed of their unsightly proportions, by that prismatic and microscopic influence which the feelings so frequently communicate to the mind, when they bring it into a blind subserviency to their rash and unchecked impulses. Female beauty, to the distempered fancy of the young, is almost every where blotless. As in the calenture, the eye is cheated by the imagination. Time, however, so strengthens the discriminating faculty, that we soon distinguish spots through the brightness, and discover to our vexation,