enough to volunteer my attendance during his expedition. But Gertrude, notwithstanding her romance, lacks the energy to take such a step. I sometimes fear that even the united skill of my aunt and myself, will fail in its intention; for though obedient in every thing else to her mother's slightest wish, Gertrude cannot be persuaded or forced into discarding Eugene, or encouraging another. She is to be pitied, and I sometimes do pity her, but the recollection of my unsuccessful attempt to captivate Courtland, comes back as an incentive to a perseverance which will give me a triumph over him. Gertrude must decide speedily, for the missionary leaves to-morrow. Even if she should not now retract her vows, I hope much during his absence, from conti could they realize the heavenly aspirations which attract me onward. The self approval which I feel, I regard as a token of divine approbation-as a sign, that how ever unworthy the offering, the sacrifice of home and hope, will be accepted on high. The struggle will be fearful, Gertrude; but will not that very struggle purify and exalt the deed that demands it? The thought that you will suffer by this act, is my darkest memory; for I would not sully with a tear for me, the sweet eyes which so often have greeted me in kindness. But it is not to say this, that I write to you: it is to give back, if you will, the faith you pledged before my lot was changed. Think not, my dearest one, that I offer this without trembling. Too many tender hopes are clustered round the promise of your love, for me to relin-nued entreaties and her own want of firmness. To be quish it calmly; but it may be, it must be, long, Gertrude, before we are again together, and I cannot retain that promise when you hereafter may regret its gift. Act as you think best, dearest; if your decision be one which will insure our meeting after the present trial hath gone by, I will bless you from my soul; and the hope of return will go forth with me, as a joy and reward. If you deem it wisest to dissolve an engagement offering so little to tempt you, then, be it thus; I will obey that mandate also, and my prayers will ascend for the tranquillity of her whose love I treasured, and whose friendship I should prize. This evening, Gertrude, I shall hear your resolve, and meet you for the last time during many months. Ask peace from Heaven, my cherished one, and He whose eye sleepeth not, will shed a balm even over the bitterness of our farewell!" For many hours after reading this note, Gertrude wept wildly; and when, exhausted by sorrow, she sunk into a troubled sleep, the bright tears that rested on her flushed cheek, glittered like dew-drops on the leaf of a rose. defeated now, for the second time, by Eugene, would be mortifying indeed, while to succeed, will gratify the lurking dislike that is excited by thoughts of him who passed me by to love one like Gertrude." Some idea of Helen's character, may be gathered from these specimens of her confidential correspondence, though she was too habitually insincere to reveal all her feelings, even in such intercourse. Handsome, rather than beautiful, with brilliant powers and animated manners, Helen possessed exactly the traits which are calculated to produce, at first, a favorable impression in society; while deeper knowledge of her disposition almost always erased the earlier and gentler judgment. Where Helen wished to please, she rarely failed; and this sort of success, had given her a reliance on her attractions, which made indifference to them an offence she could not pardon. Toward those she disliked-and their name was Legion-she was haughty and satirical; for with naturally quick perceptions, she exerted the unenviable talent of turning into ridicule all who fell under the ban of her displeasure. Gay, The following letter from Helen to her friend, will spirited and confident, Helen's mind was well fitted to serve to unfold the continuation of this story. control her cousin ; for Gertrude, though superior in amiability, was generally deficient in the energy and self possession which distinguished her companion. The origin of Helen's feelings for Eugene, her letter has confessed, and amid her liveliness and pretended indifference, we may, perhaps, trace even yet some slight hidden lingering of the tenderness that once marked her opinion of the missionary. But if such were the fact, there was little noble or refined in a sentiment whose disappointment urged her to sacrifice all the earthly CHAPTER IV. "You would really be amused, mon amie, could you see the tragedy which is every day performed here by my little cousin Gertrude! We were sitting with my aunt this morning, and she, in her usual quiet manner, began, cautiously, to speak of the wealth, amiability, and other good qualities of Mr. Mervin, the gentleman whose suit she advocates. I too, occasionally joined in his praises, though, entre nous, I had to manufacture virtues for him, as he has nothing on earth to recommend him but his riches. Gertrude did not notice the conver-happiness of a being like Courtland, sation, and sat silent, looking the very picture of despair. At length, emboldened by this indifference, my aunt spoke of Eugene, with many graceful regrets for the want of regard for his friends which his conduct evinces. But to this, even Gertrude could not listen, and she hastily left her entertaining friends. I did not see her for two or three hours after this scene, and then, on going to her room, found her asleep with a letter in her hand. As the letter was from Eugene, I took the liberty of glancing over it. The style was sad and affectionate; he offered her the choice of keeping or breaking their engagement, and as I recall his words of tenderness, I almost marvel at the disposition which causes Gertrude to submit to a separation that costs them both such suffering. Had Courtland written me such a letter, I positively believe, that with all my fondness for society and desire for admiration, I would have been silly The fair young moon hung like a silver crescent from the ceiling of Heaven, and the stars in their shadowless beauty were pure and bright as a christian's hopes. Far away reposed a few gorgeous clouds which the sunset had blest, and in gratitude they still gilded the place where their glory had been given. Low and tender were the words that the lover breathed that night to the lady of his choice, and she listened with sad attention to the soft, modulated tones which were sweeter than the whispers of the summer wind. She knew that voice would soon be to her but a remembered melody, a sound to be heard no more save in the music of her dreams, and the deep eyes that locked on CHAPTER V. her now, would for many years, meet hers no longer. | cause he admires Eugene so highly, that I must do the The hand that now held hers, might clasp it not again, same; two years ago I might have listened with more and the brightest star that lit her sky, was departing interest to his praises-but now, tout cela s'est passé !" for another sphere. Even if they met again, both would be changed-and to those who love, what is change but sorrow? Gertrude spoke not, and Eugene was sad, but calm. He talked of resignation, of hope, and a firmer trust on that One, for whom he was leaving all. 'But, Gertrude," he said, "I know that during my absence, your love will be sought by many, and I would not bind you by vows, from which time may steal their charms. If one more worthy of your affection should ask it, consider yourself free, dearest, from a promise, which, however precious to me, I would relinquish for your happiness." A passionate burst of tears was her only answer; and with a faltering tone, Eugene continued "Be calm, my Gertrude; for my sake, control these feelings; let not the thought of this last meeting be darkened by such sorrow. If you would now dissolve the tie between us, I will submit to the decision and return here no more!" Gertrude raised her full dark eyes to his, and in the concentrated whisper of intense emotion, she answered, "I will be yours, Eugene-and yours only!" Those words went with the wanderer to another land, and when the wild waves of the deep ocean foamed between him and home, that promise dwelt in the exile's spirit, his only hope on earth. A year had gone by since the events of the last chapter, and Gertrude had in a measure recovered her usual tranquillity. Letters from Courtland, which reached her at long intervals, taught her to look on the future with a less anxious eye, and to rest firmer trust on Him who had guided the wanderer's way. Mrs. Leslie had ceased to combat with her daughter's wishes, when she found how much they effected her happiness-and released by Helen's marriage, from her importunities, Gertrude gradually became reconciled to her situation. But at length Eugene's letters grew sadder; he alluded more rarely to his return and oftener urged submission to whatever might be in store for them. His words were less ardent, and his recollections of home were hallowed and painful as memories of the dead. Gertrude felt alarmed at this melancholy; she scarcely knew why, but it was so unlike Courtland's usual cheering style, that a thousand vague fears came over her like shadows. She fancied him sick and alone in a far off land, with no friend to comfort and soothe him. She pictured his solitary dwelling, wanting the light of a loving eye, the music of a tender voice; and for a moment she was tempted to doubt the wisdom which heaped so many trials on one so pure and good. At last came the confirmation of her apprehensions; Eugene was ill. He said he might linger long in suffering, but he bid her not hope for such a life. The writing of the letter was almost illegible, and the eye could scarcely recognise in its irregular characters, the flowing lines of Eugene's the fearful tidings, but the sentences were before her which his trembling hand had traced, and she could not doubt them. Wild and fervent was the first prayer of the betrothed for her idol's life; then came the thought of his humili "I must tell you, dear Caroline," wrote Helen to her friend, "the continuation of the lovers' romance. Eh bien! the affair has ended for the present, as I expected, in the gentleman's departure alone, and the renewal of my little cousin's vows. My efforts thus far, have entirely failed; but, though disappointed, I am not surprised, for I well knew that months of artful persuasion would lose their effect before one loving whisper from Eugene's lips. My aunt is now exerting all her pow-hand. For an instant, Gertrude was unable to credit ers to make a match between Mr. Mervin (the rich lover, vous saves,) and her daughter. Though very much doubting her success, I offer no opposition to the plan. Gertrude has appeared lately in a new character; for the once irresolute tone of her disposition has given place to a gentle, but steady reliance on her own deci-ty, compared with her daring supplication, and with a sions. I confess that this change has altered my views; and I sometimes think, instead of interfering with Gertrude's love, it would be wiser to practice my arts on the wealthy lover. I know my cousin would thank me for monopolizing his attentions, though my aunt might object to the exchange. What think you of this scheme? If I mistake not, the gentleman would prove an easy capture; so my only difficulty would be to reconcile my aunt to the affair. She is bent upon marrying her daughter to a rich old simpleton, but if that cannot be done, she might surely allow her niece the second opportunity. Mervin would be no contemptible prize for me, as I am not sentimentally inclined towards any one at present, and his gold is a great temptation. I had a kind, brotherly lecture from Charles, last night, on my conduct to Eugene and Gertrude, and he tried to make me promise that I would not interfere with them for the future. I would promise no such thing, just to plague Charles by opposition—and he left me really angry at my obstinacy. Did you ever hear of such an unreason able person as this brother of mine? He fancies be chastened spirit, she asked mercy for him who had left all on earth to gain hope in Heaven. Silently Mrs. Leslie read the intelligence, and with sorrow for his afflic tion blended recollections of her own conduct toward the exile. Gertrude, too, her child, her only one, was mourning; and the mother knelt, for the first time, in true and lowly pleading for blessings on the missionary. "Mother," said Gertrude, and her voice was low and earnest; "mother, I would not grieve you, but Eugene is sad and comfortless, and he must not die alone!" Mrs. Leslie had expected this, but she replied not as she gazed on the pale face of her child. "Do not deny me, dear mother," continued Gertrude in the same deep, passionate tone; "I would not otherwise leave you, but he is suffering. You have kind friends who will supply my place during the few months of our separation, but he has none to cheer him. Give me your blessing, mother, and let it go with me to his loneliness!" "Be it as you will, dearest !" was the faltering answer, and the parent's benediction was mingled with her daughter's tears. LETTER FROM HELEN MERVIN TO HER FRIEND. haunts, he quitted only the vivid memories of sorrows gone. No young heart had mourned his departure, for all who loved him, were at rest; and in seeking another dwelling, he was seeking also a peace and happiness he had not left. During their tedious voyage, he had been to Gertrude kind as a father, for her placid beauty recalled the soft eyes of his own children, whose sleep was in the grave. He had soothed her fears, revived her hopes, and knelt with her in prayer; and under his instruction she learned a lesson of lowliness. His mission commanded her interest, and created a yet loftier reverence for those who forsake all things to go forth among strangers and do good! "How I wish you were near me, ma chéra Caroline, that I might have some society that I could enjoy! Now, do not imagine from this introduction, I intend being sentimental, for I have no such idea; but indeed I do feel dull and desperate, shut up in this castle-like country place, away from all rational companions. Not that I am really alone, for Mr. Mervin is here with some of his friends; but I do not include either the host or his visitors among companionable people. This house itself is delightful, and its decorations are splendid; but they are nothing to me in my solitude. Besides the disagreeables of a silly husband and his still more stupid associates, I have the charming prospect of spending the next winter at this same gay establishment, inDisturbed were Gertrude's slumbers during that last stead of going, like every lady else, to the city. De-long night upon the ocean, and with the eagerness of a pendant as I am on society for pleasure, picture if you child she hailed the blue shadowy outline of land which can my gloom and anger at this sage resolution of my greeted her waking glance. Until then, she had clung intellectual mari! I little suspected when I exerted so only to the fair side of the future; but now that her many attractions to win this man, that instead of spend- journey was closing, a throng of fears flitted before her. ing his wealth and laughing at his follies among a bril- Eugene might be dying-might be dead-and all was liant crowd, I should be condemned to spend my time forgotten in that one thought. in the country, with him forever at my side. I sometimes wish I had made Gertrude marry him, but it is too late for repentance now. There is yet another reason for my dejection. I have just heard that Eugene is ill. My old wish for a triumph over Courtland has vanished, and I sometimes think if I ever loved any body it was him. Compare, just for curiosity, Caroline, the reality of my first love with my descriptions of Mervin; for I cannot pay him even the poor compliment around, but gorgeous flowers of many hues had ment of being my last love. We are not the most af fectionate people in the world; for I never was intended for a quiet domestic character, and I suspect even Mervin's dull mind has discovered that fact. You recol-cense of their evening song. The sun was declining, lect how I rejoiced in his conquest and prided myself on winning him from Gertrude! I begin to think my joy then was as illy founded as my wisdom; and unless I can have society, to forget in its giddy tumult the want of social sympathy, my fate will be clouded indeed. "Do not despond, my child," was her companion's encouragement, as he saw the large tears resting on her lashes; "our prayers have been offered in sincerity, and they will not prove in vain!" The tall palm trees reared their crests above the missionary's dwelling, and the rich vines of a sunny clime, enwreathed its lowly roof. There was little of improve sprung up unsown, and art was scarcely missed where nature had lavished so much. Birds of brilliant plumage fluttered among the trees and offered the sweet in and it east over the dark woods the glory of its own death-giving earth, sky and water a lustre, pure and bright as the light of fame which gilds the patriot's tomb. Beside a table within the hut, sat Eugene Courtland; a book lay open before him and a pencil was in his hand, but his thoughts were not with his studies. His cheek had parted with its early flush, and his eyes, though beautiful as ever, were calmer and sadder; his “But enough of these sober realities; I will not tire you with my regrets; but sometimes, Caroline, I envy Gertrude her pure love for Courtland, and I too, would have undertaken the voyage before her, to meet the gen-brow was pale, and placid; suffering had left there no tle smile and tender greeting that will be her best reward!" CHAPTER VI. The round moon rose high in the cloudless heavens, and a light breeze curled into tiny waves the waters of the blue ocean. A single vessel held its solitary course, and on its deck sat the maiden whose love, like the mariner's star, had guided her across the wide sea. Her eyes watched the sparkling path behind the ship, and her heart throbbed quicker, as she remembered that another sunset would find her with Courtland! By her side stood a man on whose brow years and cares had left their mingled seals, and among whose dark locks time had scattered silver. He also, was a missionary, and under his guidance Gertrude had left her home. Like Eugene, he too had come on a holy errand—but his life had lost its freshness, and in quitting his early darkness and no frown. The meditations of the solitary, were mournful; and resting his clasped hands on the expanded page, he pressed his forehead upon them in silence. Long visions of the past were with him; then came the soft dreams that concentrate years of happiness in a single thought. A shadow dimmed the sunlight; a gentle step crossed the threshold, and Eugene woke from his fancied blessedness, to realize all, in meeting the gaze of Gertrude! LETTER FROM HELEN MERVIN TO HER FRIEND. "Caroline, Eugene has returned, and I have seen him! I needed but this to make me wretched; for I could have borne more calmly my union with a soulless, sensual man, had I never met again the loved reality of my only pure ideal. Excluded from the world I idolize, and forbidden to mingle in its pleasures, by the caprice of a despised companion, how often have I mourned the voluntary act which sealed my misery! Gertrude and Eugene look so happy, that my heart almost reproaches Now, nightly o'er my bed The cruel Delia flies- A LECTURE, B. Delivered to the Law Class of William and Mary College, June 17, 1939, being the last of a course of Lectures on the Philosophy of Government and Constitutional Law. By Judge Beverley Tucker.* I know not, gentlemen, whether a desire to recall some of the thoughts presented in the course of lectures which I am about to conclude, is suggested by a both. Among you, I flatter myself, there are some sense of duty to you or to myself. It may be due to whose partial friendship might dispose them to adopt my opinions with too much confidence. These, I am especially bound to guard against any evil consequences of a the other hand, it has been often my duty to present sentiment which so justly deserves my gratitude. On considerations favorable to opinions which my own mind does not decidedly adopt; and in the minds of those who reject them I may stand charged with errors from me for the part I once acted toward them. We met last evening at my aunt's, but I did not tell Mervin of his invitation, for I could not bear that Eugene should see my husband. He is already disagreeable enough to me, without needing contrast to render him more so. Gertrude's sweet, placid face, was a mirror of joy, and I think her disposition has improved, for she has overcome that want of decision which used to mark her conduct. I could almost love her now, if Charles did not plague me by holding her up as my model, and by constantly comparing her manners and acts with what he is pleased to call the worldliness' of my own. Courtland's health is fast recovering, and the lassitude of suffering, has given a gentler and lovelier style to a beauty that was always spritual. His voice has no longer the strength which once distinguished it, but its low, subdued tones, have gained in melody what they have lost in power. The enthusiasm for his calling lingers still, though he has learned from experience the falseness of the hopes which carried him among strangers, and has found how little can be done even by the most unwearied, unless assisted by many. As I listened to his expressions of holy gratitude, I almost wondered at the humility which, in giving such thanks, forgets the trials and sacrifices that have won him blessings. Courtland asked after Mervin, and I fancied that I read something of pity in Gertrude's look, when she heard the question. But I answered with a smile, and she was too sincere herself to suspect the depth of sadness that gaiety concealed. I left them with a mind more discontented than ever with my self-appointed lot; and when I returned to my splendid but lonely home-which I am free. watched for by no brightening eye-greeted by no tenIn the progress of these lectures, I have endeavored der welcome-I turned from the empty ornaments of to guard against both of these evils. You will rememwealth with a sickened heart and wearied spirit. Iber, that in the outset, I said, that I would not flatter sought my own room-it was adorned with all the lux- you with a promise, that political truths which have uries that gold could buy-but there, also, I was alone; eluded the investigations of the most candid and enand, in bitterness of soul, I deplored a destiny so diffe- lightened of all ages, should be laid open to you. These rent in its gilded vanity, from the peaceful, loving life of words were perhaps understood, at the moment, as the the missionary's bride!" mere common-place of modesty-real or affected. But they had a far deeper meaning. They were uttered August, 1839. under a conviction, which all subsequent investigation and reflection have but confirmed, that researches into the philosophy of government promise, at best, but an approximation to truth; and that, to him whose mind cannot be brought to rest content in doubt, they promise nothing at all. If there be any such among you, he will be sensible that he has derived no benefit from me. The only service I could have rendered such a one, would I have been to effect such a change in the temper and disposition of his mind, as to prepare him to enter, an humble and teachable pupil, in the school of experience. If I have failed in this, I have failed in every thing. With such, I fear, I am particularly liable to misconstruction. To such, every suggestion calculated to throw a doubt on any cherished opinion, might seem like the avowal of the opposite opinion. In politics, as in religion, to him whose comfort requires an infallible guide, any doubt of his infallibility seems equivalent to a direct contradiction of all his doctrines. To the bigot, all others are bigots. To doubt, is bigotry. To hesitate-to pause and reflect, is bigotry. All who are not for him, are against him, and he against them. Against this uncandid temper-the parent of so much Published at the request of the Class. J. T. L. RETURN ENRAPTURED HOURS. Return, enraptur'd hours, When Delia's heart was mine; No jealousy nor care Presided o'er my rest. Since I'm removed from state, At my unhappy fate Crown her with happiness- teries of Nature. With this honor in prospect, the philosopher addresses himself to his task as one who seeks for hidden treasure. If he fails, he can but die and be forgotten. But if he succeeds, he secures for himself a name among the benefactors of mankind. Far different is the lot of him who devotes himself to the investigation of political science. That which is immortality to others may be death to him. He follows after truth, as one who tracks an enemy that may turn and destroy him. He will do more to advance his fame by devising specious sophisms in defence of vulgar errors, than by the discovery of a new truth, which, being new, must clash with opinions consecrated by prejudice, and sanctioned by the authority of numbers. error, so much faction, strife, contention, and bitterness in our day, have penetrated so deeply into all the mysof heart-my labors have been particularly directed. It is a temper that can serve no purpose but to make him who cherishes it the ready instrument of party, the easy tool of any who will repeat his creed, and tickle his ear with the plausible formulas which he habitually receives as compends of political truth. At the same time he is ready to denounce all who will not repeat this creed and these formulas. Hence, men distinguished for that thoughtful sobriety of understanding which reflects patiently and judges wisely, can have no place in his confidence. He has reduced the science of government to a system of maxims, and the man who hesitates to adopt any one of them, is set down in his mind as devoted to another system, the opposite of his in all things. Thus it is, that the discreet and conscientious are condemned by bigots and system makers of all parties; and thus it is, that the affairs of nations are given up to the blundering misrule of the rash and unscrupulous, while the men most competent to manage them are condemned to inaction and obscurity. Belonging to no party, they are charged with the sins and errors of all parties. Having the wisdom to perceive that they do not know every thing, they are set down by the confident and presumptuous as knowing nothing. This is no enviable lot; yet I frankly confess to you, that the aim of all my instructions has been to dispose and qualify you to take your place among these. These are, after all, the salt of the earth. Were such men more common, mutual support might ensure them more respect, and their numbers might give them consequence and authority. To increase their number would be to render the state the most important service. Something like this is the object I have had in view. But you will see, gentlemen, that it is at your expense that I have proposed to accomplish it. I have sought to enlist you in a forlorn hope, where you may have to sacrifice every thing in a strenuous effort to serve your country, it may be, in spite of herself. But I have not sought to beguile you into a service so desperate. I have offered neither pay nor bounty; neither the emoluments of office, nor the applause of your contemporaries. I have not taught you to hope the countenance of any party, nor the favor of any leader. I have told you, as I tell you now, the naked and unvarnished truth, and admonished you in the outset, that if you wish to win your way to power and distinction by the arts of the demagogue and partisan, you should avoid this place. I have been aware, that in a system of instruction adapted to these ideas, there can be nothing to make it popular. This, too, I have already told you. But it is not my business to study popularity, but truth. I am fully aware, that by him who is eager after knowledge, rash confidence is preferred as a guide before sober doubt; that to most men specious error is far more palatable than unseemly truth; and that the safest opinions are those which are most current. Here, gentlemen, is one of the inconveniences that attends the study of political science. In physics, in mathematics, and even in morals, investigation is stimulated and encouraged by the honors which await him who discovers a new truth, or detects an established error. Such are the foundations of that fame which renders immortal the names of Bacon and Newton, and promises the same reward to the men whose researches, Thus it is, that each country has its own political creed, which no man dares assail. So true is this, that, turn where you will, you will find the prevalent opinion of every people, favorable, in the main, to their own institutions. Abuses may indeed be perceived; but, for the most part, radical defects are mistaken for abuses. The spirit of revolution, too, sometimes sug. gests innovation and change; but, in the calm and healthy condition of every community, the beau ideal of a perfect government seems to each something not widely different from its own. The authority of numbers is no evidence that any of these is right; for, numbers decide one way in a republic, and another way in a monarchy. Precisely thus, at this moment, do the most enlightened men of the two most enlightened countries in the world differ from each other. Yet in each the authority of numbers supervises the researches of the political philosopher; and the love of fame, which is the incentive to all other investigations, does but awaken a more lively dread of the scourge with which public opinion stands prepared to punish the unlucky discoverer of any unpalatable truth. You will see, gentlemen, that if, like most men, I have a zeal for my art, I take a poor way to recommend it. It might, perhaps, be thought that the ideas I have just suggested, are at the bottom of the doubting and undecided character of almost every thing that I have said to you. But though it may seem safer to doubt than to err, yet this idea is often deceptive. Error may be condemned; and truth may pass for error. But he who teaches either, will not stand alone. He will always have some to concur with and countenance him. But he who doubts has all the world against him. He is at the centre of the magnetic card, and there is no point of the compass from which he does not appear to be at the opposite edge of the horizon. He will not even obtain the praise of candor. To question the perfection of the institutions of his own country, is, at home, supposed to indicate a secret preference for a government as different as possible: while abroad, he is regarded in every nation, as having a glimmering perception of the excellence of the institutions of that particular nation, without daring to avow it. You see, then, gentlemen, that the temper of mind which I have endeavored to inspire, is, of all, the most unfavorable to popularity and advancement. But the end is not yet. We do not live for ourselves, nor even for our contemporaries alone. “Diis immortalibus sero,” was the noble saying of the aged Roman, as his gray hairs fell over the plough, while putting in a crop which |