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instrumental performers of a high order, we may mention Mrs. W., Misses N. and P.-and as vocalists, Mrs. Capt. R., Mrs. B. and Misses W. and G.

It has been said that the Philadelphians are cold and reserved in their intercourse with strangers, but it holds true only with those who have visited that city and left it without remaining sufficiently long to become known. Strangers who bring letters of introduction, or persons whose family, education and manners are such as to entitle them to move in their circles, will, when acquainted, have the most marked attentions paid them. There is no city in the Union in which the gentleman is better received. If he pass the ordeal, he is safe and happy in their society; if found unsuited and rejected, he will find it advisable not to attempt the purchase, as he will most certainly fail.

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As I lay in my bed this morning I heard a low noise upon my windows, and extending my arm from beneath

The Medical department of the University of Penn-its folding of blankets, I drew aside the curtain, to see sylvania is an institution well known through our which of winter's messengers was summoning me to country, and stands deservedly high both at home and arise. Like a wild urchin scattering shot from his abroad. The antiquity of the school and the great father's pouch, the delicate flakes of sleet tapped against names connected with it, have placed it at the head of the panes, and made music upon the brittle and respondmedical schools on this side of the Atlantic. With it, ing surface. I was fairly awake. There was no sunare associated the names of Rush, Wistar, Barton, light in the skies, but a dull, heavy atmosphere fell over Dorsey, Physick, Dewees, Chapman, Jackson, Hare the face of nature, and veiled the distant houses in a and Horner-names illustrious in the history of medi-dusky cloud. Still the spattering against the windows cine and as benefactors of mankind. It has been gra- continued, and I answered the summons by a spring dually extending its course of instruction, and its re- from my bed, and was soon equipped.

sources are constantly accumulating. The chemical How cheerfully our hearth burns on a sleety mornlaboratory is inferior to none in the world, and the anato-ing, when the servant is industrious. You descend mical museum is the most perfect in this country. To from the regions of Lapland, where furred wrappers and it, is attached the Philadelphia Hospital or Alms-House, ermined cloaks are necessary, into the region of delithe most extensive and best arranged building of the cious comfort. kind.

The winter has been uncommonly gay. Mr. and Mrs. Wood and Mr. Brough have astonished and delighted the musical world in the operas of Masanello, Fra Diavolo and La Somnambula. They have fine voices, sing with great taste and power and give the greatest satisfaction. The parties and balls are very frequent. To-night, we attend the brilliant ball at Mrs. C***, Chesnut street, where we shall meet the aristocratic and fashionable.-At 10 o'clock, we made our obeisance to Mr. and Mrs. C***, and stepping aside so as to give room for those who were behind, we were soon lost in the crowd. The music from Johnson's justly celebrated band invited to the dance, and we were soon engaged in the graceful cotillion, the voluptuous waltz and elegant gallope. The dancing continued until twelve, at which time the ladies were conducted to the supper table, which was heavily loaded with all the luxuries of good eating. At one in the morning, the company began to disperse, and at two I found myself comfortably fixed in my lodgings, which I left at ten, fatigued and suffering from headache and fever.

The breakfast room is warm, and you meet your rosy child, with its rich cheeks crimsoned with health, who runs to you from her cricket by the fire, and presses her sweet warm cheek to yours. You take her in your arms, and both together gaze upon the whitened fields; and how the merry heart laughs, as she sees the old cow sliding down the hill, like a mahogany table-her four legs stiff as icicles. She chirps and laughs with delight, when a little boy catches the sliding old quadruped by the tail, and accompanies her on her slippery journey, until they arrive in safety at the bottom of the hill. The wiry, woolly dog has crept from his lair in an old basket, where he has slept all night, covered up in a green baize crumb-cloth which he has cabbaged, and he looks around him with a knowing eye as if he was considering his chance for an upset. He is a droll, sly and quaint chap, and though quite young, has his wits wonderfully developed.

The only place that he will stand a chance for a fall, will be the outside steps that descend to the kitchen. Bob, the ostler's, shoes, may have iced their angles, as he passed in from the stable.

No sun yet-and the clock is on the figure of nine. Is yonder white world of ice to stand all day long? The skies forbid.

I delight in sleigh-riding. It is glorious sport, when, with ladies on either side of us and with horses well trained and gentle, we dart away at the rate of twelve miles an hour to see some dear friend in the country. How the urn smokes again, and the aroma of the It is sweet to leave behind the pent-up city with its dull coffee ascends in fragrant spires and pervades the room, anthracite coal fires, and seek the country and seat our-as if the odor of some Deity descending from Olympus. selves beside the cheerful wood which blazes and The hot rolls melt the butter, as I hope the sunbeam, crackles on the family hearth. And then too, comes the warm and vigorous, will ere long march over the stubcold bread and sliced ham, cakes and wine, and other re- born ice, and conquer its huge surface with a smile. freshments a thousand times better than the same things on our own tables. And now too is the time we love

The sleet hurries on apace from the near hanging clouds, and the very trees seem to shiver as the ice-bolt

is favorable. There is no bone broken, and away I go upon my back as gently as a sleigh spinning along with four in hand. I heard that wicked urchin's mirth as my heels slipped from under me, and as I glide majestically along, I hear his splintering approach-he shoots by me like an arrow, and a broad grin is upon his handsome face. He has my blessing, bright boy, and though I may stumble frequently in life, may thy

splinters about them. How gloriously will he infold them, and cloak their dusky bark with an armor as pure as the crystal of the spring. Two months hence, and the buds will cluster upon those boughs, and the wild birds hide themselves in the fragrant leaves-the gentle breath of May will whisper to them, and the soft sun will rejoice amid their verdant foliage; but will they then wear an aspect so lovely as that with which they are now bedecked? Like ten thousand chande-course be as it was this morn, happy and secure. He liers of diamond spars flashing every ray from the light, brought me my umbrella, and has brushed the ice from the limbs throw out their glassy tracery upon the sky, my back. and the wind that whistles through them, clatters them together with a soft and singular sound.

As I wend up the avenue, hundreds of boys fly past me on their skates, for the pavements and roads are al covered with the ice. Here it is safer walking, for they have roughened the surface with their fluted irons, and I pace along as merry as the rest.

The grass is prouder to-day than it has been for a long and weary time-it is stiff in its conceit; and should the old cow that slided down the hill just now, attempt to clip it, how it will pierce her nose with its sharp and beautiful spear. The grass is in its panoply of silver mail, and is ready to tilt against anything. Now it is more beautiful than the lily of the valley, and it lifts its head that the wind may tread over it and hear its mellow song. The horses poke their bony heads out at the stable-Bedouin Arab of the Desert. door and snuff the cool air, and shake their trembling ears as the sleet darts between them. Armed with my cane, and wrapped in my coat, I step forth to dare the whistling messengers from the clouds. Whew! How they scatter themselves over my face and cut their horizontal way over the tips of my ears. I place my faithful cane carefully in the ice, else away I would dart and roll over, to the edification of every market-woman that might feel herself secure in woollen straps passed under

Like an alderman picking his way to a turtle dinner, see that solemn steed, how he minces his steps, and hear him how he snorts, as a flying skater, like a summer swallow-bird, flashes before his frost-webbed eyes, and his poor rider shakes his whip at the boy, who chuckles in his sleeve, and returns to the attack like a

the soles of her shoes.

The blacksmith's shop is crowded with company, and the beaded perspiration falls from his forehead and hisses on the glowing iron. The two white horses are to be frosted first, for they belong to Mr. ——, and he wants them to pay a visit of some importance to the President. The blacksmith, with a nonchalant air, snatches up the huge foot of an honest cartman's horse, who earns his bread by his daily toil, and hammers away right merrily upon him. The white servant of the great man has to pocket the insult, but his turn Progressing along with all the apparent infirmity of will come next. Thanks, honest smith! The poor age, though I am but in my younger youth, I reach at | wood-carrier will bless you this night, when he pours last the crowning point of my toil-to ascend that knoll his earnings into his wife's hand, and sends his eldest on this side and descend it on the other, is like the pas-boy out to buy milk for the evening coffee. sage of the Alps. I stand by a man who is digging lustily away at Warily my cane is placed, as if I trod upon the lof-something beneath the sleet: chop-chop-chop-the tiest summit of Mont Blanc, and saw beneath me the ice breaks off in cakes, and he draws forth the last deep glaciers wherein 'tis almost death to gaze; I stick evening's paper. He will chop logic over the sage edithe point of my square-toed boots into the ice and torial; for bent must he be on learning, that would thus clamber up. The steep is won-but now for the de- stand in the shivering air, and pick two inches deep in scent. A wild boy on his skates dashes past me, and ice for an evening's journal. The editor was highly away he goes like a rail-car, down the steep; he has complimented by the labor. passed the fence corner, and the rogue has stopped on his iron heels, to watch the descent of Bonaparte. Lord how the wind whistles around me, and how smooth and clear looks the shining declivity-there is not the slightest shrub to break the monotonous frigidity of the view, nor the grateful furrow of a cartwheel, and down that inclined plane go I must. Shall I sit down and slide it out? The laughing eyes of the skater, peeping over the fence, forbids the idea. The work is commenced-the cane once more planted-the umbrella poised above my head; for the sleet storm is pouring upon us all in feathery glory, and I am off. It is in vain that I try the slide the equilibrium of my boyhood is gone, and the just precision of my eye, from want of practice, fails me at this momentous crisis. A slip-mercy-and all is over. My heels have kieked defiance to the clouds, and my head has smitten with an audacious force its mighty mother. The umbrella inflated with its own conceits has fluttered away, and is beyond my reach. But I am down, and the occasion

How the hours wear on-how slowly the hands point upon the face of my time-piece, and yet how swiftly do our thoughts mount upon the four winds, and seek the hearthstone scenes of our friends. Alas! that they are distant from us.

We hear the wind chuckling around the gable-ends of the houses, and almost screaming with delight, when it cuts a corpulent biped across the bridge of the nose with its icy sword.

The night draws on apace-slowly the curtain falls, and dim and indistinct sneak on the dying moments of the day-the grass has not bent an inch, and the tall trees shake their heads ominously, as much as to say, "We'll have a cold time of it out here to-night." Where are your elegant blankets that the gods have sent you?

Will the mice stir abroad to-night? The cat is rolled up in her night-clothes and purs away like an old crone spinning wool. The wiry-headed dog barks ever and anon in his sleep, for he is haunted by visions of sacked towns and dismantled larders.

gold!"*

hold;

Your diadems, ye kings! bring here,-the jewell'd crowns ye
Come woman in thine ornaments, in all their costly sheen,
And let them be the loveliest ones that ever graced a queen!

This grass that's trodden under foot, this weed with branching

arms,

Oh! how the wind bellows without-"discoursing | 'Ye counsellors of earth!' come forth, 'ye princes who have most eloquent music." The shutters are fastened-the doors are not locked, for some sufferer may knock, and I would not deny him the comfort of my blazing fire. The curtains are not drawn down in such a night as this, for many a poor houseless wretch passing by and seeing all dark, would pass on, and he might find his bed in the deep hollow a few yards beyond my door. The sleet day has ended in a cold and starry night. The fretted limbs are swaying about in the powerful blast, and as yet I have heard of no accidents. The boys could have met with none, for they were not forced to the deep waters for their skating frolic; and though they, doubtless, have had some delightful tumbles, they are none the worse for that. Fine fellows, how soon the skates are thrown aside, after their first appearance at the barber's.

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Thus glittering in the morning sun, hath fifty-fold their charms;
Then cast your baubles vile away, and bend in solemn thought
To Him, who hath this gorgeous scene, from storm and tempest

wrought.

Yet this fair pageant soon must fade before the breath of noon;
And by the fiat from on high, your wealth shall fade as soon.
But those which at the Judgment day, through Christ, will then
Oh lay not worthless riches up, which moth and rust' assail,

avail.

What though the sun so soon must melt this frostwork and its
forms,

He speaks them into life again, who rides amid the storms;
So in the twinkling of an eye,' at his last trumpet dread,
Our bodies, fashioned gloriously, shall rise up from the dead.
The sun goes up his destined way-how few do heed my calls!

.

In tears the vision melts away, the baseless fabric' falls.

I too, could shed some tears, alas! that this sweet scene is
pass'd;

For scenes as sweet, it brings to mind, which fled away as fast.
NUGATOR.

Job, chap. 3d.

THE SLEET.

Awake, awake, the sun is up, awake and sally forth,
We've had a rain of jewelry from out the frozen north;

The earth is robed in dazzling white, each tree is hung with

gems,

And diamonds in ten thousand shapes are hanging from their

stems.

Each bush and every humble shrub, with precious stones is strung,

And all the purest, brightest things, by handfuls round are
fung;

The em'rald! and the amethyst! the topazes! behold!
And here and there a ruby red, is sparkling in the cold.

The chrysolite and jasper see, and that bright Sardine stone
The holy Patmos prophet saw, upon the Heav'nly throne;
Here all the gold of Ophir shines, with all Golconda's store,
And who could ever number up the countless myriads more?
The holly in its darkest green, with crimson fruit looks gay,
Enchased in solid silver too, how rich is its display!
In green and gold the shaggy pine seems almost in a blaze
With all the sun's reflected light, yet soften'd to the gaze.

The cedar! ah thou favor'd tree! in scripture it is told
They laid thee in the house of God, and cover'd thee with gold!
But great as was King Solomon, he, nor the house he made,
Were dress'd in such magnificence as thou hast here display'd!
The beech tree stands in rich array of long and shining threads,
Its briule boughs all bending low to earth their drooping heads,
And now and then some broken limb comes crashing from on
high,

And showering down a world of gems that sparkle as they fly.
The lofty oak-the hundred limb'd Briareus of the trees!
Spreads out his pond'rous icy arms, loud crackling in the breeze,
And as the roused up lion shakes the dewdrops from his mane,'
So does the woodland monarch shake his crystals o'er the plain.
But time would fail to tell of all that bright and starry host
The north-wind brings 'to witch the world' from out the realms

of frost:

The meanest thing-the most deform'd-the dry and sapless bough,

The bramble rude, the rugged thorn, are pure and spotless now.

ILLUSTRATIONS OF A SCIENCE.

By the author of Love at the Shrines,' &c.

THE ANIMAL MAGNETIZER.

How the following wild and eccentric story came into my possession, is a matter of no great import. It came by the right of inheritance, among a golgotha of garret furniture, such as trunks and boxes of all sizes and of every form. On opening one of them, I was struck by a singular looking roll of paper tied up very neatly with a faded piece of brocade, and it was not long ere I found that the writing was that of a very celebrated ancestor of my family, and I set to work to decypher the outré letters, for the benefit of your readers-simply remarking that I have excluded all portions of the record, that appertain to the scientific part of animal magnetism; apprising the general reader however of the fact, that in the early days of the art, the operations were accompanied with music-this remark is relevant to the understanding the story.

THE STORY.

It is night-the weary wind pants around my windows-the fire glows in the hearth, and every now and then, a small cloud of smoke puffs down the chimney, driven out by the blast. It is a sad night, and the world is hushed, and the deep silence is only broken by the baying of the mastiff chained with a double chain to the portal.

How mysterious and awful are these gigantic walls—

those dark recesses-and that old and rusted armor sence. I stood upon the threshold of his room-he hanging upon iron nails, how it fills me with ideas of the glorious past.

I am now an old man-the silver is about my head, and I am not what I used to be, when I bounded along the liveliest of all the proud ones, that have sunk away forever.

But why should I pause upon the threshold of that which I promised you I would relate? Often and often have I put you off with promises, and now as I feel the cold shiver of old age, I think it high time to gratify your curiosity. In this brief record, you will find ample materials for wonder and admiration, and when I shall have been gathered to my fathers, read it to your children, as a singular event in the life of one of their

ancestors.

It is a dreary task to go back to the days of our youth-almost sinful in age to chill the sunshine of such a memory, with his breath iced and feeble; but yet for your sake, my beloved, I will go back upon the dreary travel, and conjure up once more the emotions of my youth, and stir the smouldering cinders in my heart. It was your mother of whom I shall speak. Her character was gentle, pure and credulous. She had no guile, and when I wooed her, she did not shun me, but met my advances as nature prompted, which was modesty and truth to her. She was to me life-souldivinity. I sighed for the morning, that it might bring me to her presence—for the night, that I might worship her in all that glorious impregnation of mystery incident to my country.

When I won her it was in the spring, and I remember it so well, so wonderfully well. I see again the moon and stars shining down upon the short crisp grass, and silvering every blade with a rich and fretted scabbard. I see once more the leaves trembling in the gentle breeze, the dark old trees beneath which we used to sit and count the throbbings of our hearts, one against the other. She was guileless as she was beautiful; she loved and was beloved; there was a tacit understanding between our hearts--they had met in the yearning confidence of their strength, and whispered calmly and thoughtfully to each other-there was nothing unexplained. Truth was the sun; the several and many thoughts common between us, the stars to our little world. We moved together, but not apart from the rest-we loved the world, and had our friends-we danced and we sung and whirled along the giddy mazes of society, but we had our world-one single step and we were in it, and it was a paradise.

rose at my appearance. I could not move for his eyes, large, dark and brilliant, were riveted upon me. There was a fascination in them like a snake's—so surpassingly beautiful were they. His forehead was high, white, and without the trace of a wrinkle, and his dark ringlets fell back upon his shoulders, and added to the wildness of his countenance-and yet he was gentle in every look-a languor--a softness, almost an effeminacy, which soothed the abrupt and startling effect of a first view of him. He spoke to me, and his voice was melodious as the softest music--so low-so gentle. I became acquainted with him, and found him melancholy but not morose—but he looked as we fancy the poets look-those priests of nature. I saw him perform his magnetic wonders on multitudes, and he seemed to sway them as a god. They breathed low and softly when he spoke--their limbs quivered when his large eyes were fixed upon them, and when he moved about the room their hearts would pant like the bosom of love

by a motion of his hand he gave them life, by a glance he could palsy them into a livid and ghastly corpse. Where was the magic of this wonderful being? I watched him like an eagle, but there was ever the same subdued manner about him. He glided across the floor like a woman in a sick chamber; he looked at you, and your very soul bounded and leaped beneath the swimming glance of the philosopher. His habits were secluded and studious. He pored over large tomes and rich-clasped books, and at times his brow would darken as if a tempest of wrath was brooding over him, and again his color would revive, as if ideas like rose leaves, had expanded in his soft and enchant ed soul. I became a regular attendant at his rooms, and witnessed some strange scenes in the course of his practice.

It was a weird and ghastly occupation, that of this early magnetizer. He so calm and melancholy-the patient so pale, haggard and ghostlike; and there I have seen him stand gazing on the pallid face until the tears would rush into his eyes, and his whole frame would tremble as with an ague fit.

From a deep interest in the philosophcr, 1 became a warm student of the philosophy. It excited and filled me with visionary thoughts, but I had never allowed myself to be magnetized. An awful dread of putting on the semblance of death prevented me. I did not wish that man should see how I looked when I should be laid out on the final plank-for I knew they would tell Imogen, and her heart would be filled with horror. A shudder would benumb every fibre of my body at the

In those days a wild theory had been started by some of our many dreamers, and all Germany had been tor-idea of the experiment, and an indistinct shadow waved tured by the cruel and hideous doctrine. Crowds followed its professors through the streets, and mystery and majesty and a dreadful awe hung upon their actions

and their words.

The science was one that had never before been heard of it broke suddenly over the heads of our learned men like a thunderbolt, and swept onward into every avenue of the public curiosity. I shared the common wonder, and in my ardent spirit, there was awakened a most painful desire to master its secrets.

In this state of mind, the city in which I lived was visited by one of these strange beings-these teachers of the dark and weird lore, and I hastened to his pre

me back. But I tottered towards the trial; I longed with an eager desire which maddened me to restrain, and yet I dreaded the result. Was it the secret influ ence of that mysterious man, conveyed through those strange and gloomy eyes, that swayed me to and fro? I fancied that I frequently saw him gazing at me with an earnest look. At this singular period of my life, old impressions returned upon me with renewed force. One in particular, which from its horror, and from the effect it now exercised, I will relate. It stalked before me whenever I entered the magnetizer's—I heard its clanking bones-I smelt its odor of the grave.-When I was a boy some ten years old, an uncle who was a

medical man, lived in my father's house, and was ad- I him to the combat-he was to strike into a trance the dicted to the relation of marvellous stories, many which body and the soul, and I rushed onward with a feverhave been since published. He would talk of goblins and ish anxiety to witness the grand and crowning scene of spectres until the blood of both old and young would the sorcerer. tingle in their veins, and he completed his conquest Suddenly I heard the notes of a soft and voluptuous over my imagination. I slept in a small bed at the foot air. It was a mysterious voice that gave it vent. It of my uncle's, and long after the family had retired, he seemed to arrest the power of respiration, and a faintwould continue to pour into my ears his dreadful adven-ness overcame me--it was as if the fragrance of Heatures. On one night in winter, we had all been shiver- ven had found a tongue to syllable its sweets. The ing with the cold and my uncle's stories, that I kissed melody, for it was more than music, came from a darkmy parents and without a light went to my uncle's ened part of the magnetizer's house. room. There were a few chunks burning in the hearth, sufficient to light the frightened boy to bed. I was soon undressed and stood over my little bed, and as I made the attempt to hide beneath the bed-clothes, I struck against something hard—it rattled with a hollow sound, and starting back, the ruddy light of the fire streamed full upon the spectacle. I sprung upon the floor, rushed down the stairs, and bursting into the room, shrieked, "The Skeleton! the Skeleton!" My uncle had placed this object in my bed, had laid it out with all its bones and eyeless skull and stinking skin scarce dry, to frighten me! How strong then was the impression of that object upon my mind, when after seeing others in the pallid sleep, I leave to your imagination.

Morbidly aroused to penetrate the science, I continued to pore over every work that touched upon the subject. I thought frequently that I might unveil the awful art by tracing it to magic, and the character of its professor would have given color to the charge. He seldom or never spoke to the crowd, but there was a stern and haughty reserve, that forbade familiarity and inspired the spectators with something akin to fear. To me, however, he was generally kind, but no information would he impart. Inscrutable-dark and obscure, he stood among the crowd and exercised his power as he pleased.

Meantime my love ran on smoothly and with greater depth and fervor, without those common obstructions, deemed requisite to give its monotonous glory a piquancy and zest. Of course you will imagine that much of our conversation turned on the engrossing subject of magnetism, and she listened fearfully to my comments upon its subtle mysteries.

One evening we determined to visit the magnetizer's together, though I did not remember at the time of forming the engagement, that I had made a professional appointment with a sick friend. I told her the urgency of this visit, and proposed that she should go on to the magnetizer's with her cousin Ernest, where I would meet her in an hour. We parted, and ere that hour had flown away, I had closed the eyes of an old and dear companion-he had died in torture.

Filled with the gloomy impressions from the melancholy scene through which I had just passed, and whose horrid details I will not shock you with repeating, I directed my steps to the room of the magnetizer. The torches were lit along the streets, and the mighty wing of night hung heavily above-a few stragglers passed me, and I hastened on. The cool air in part revived me. I saw the light shining through the tall windows of the exhibition room. It was his gala-night, on which he proposed to exercise to the full the powers that he possessed. The skeptics had dared

I was arrested, and my heart went slowly and sickly down, and burning thoughts, and deep and languishing yearnings of love took possession of me. A dimness was overspreading my eyesight, and I could hear no other sound but that bewitching voice-that divinity of solitude, and I saw no other object but that dark and solemn house. A numbness seized upon my limbs, and I was fainting, when gradually the air grew fainter and fainter; it appeared to sob, and then all was still as the tomb. The trance was broken. The sickening, but delicious sensations with which I had been filled, departed, and I bared my forehead to the cold breath of the winds, and proceeded.

Would that I had never waked from that glorious enraptment!-would that I could have been arrested and fixed forever in the world of melody created by that voice!

I entered the Hall of Experiment, but every space was crowded. I climbed to the topmost bench of the amphitheatre to see where Imogen and her cousin were. Several dark looking men, on whose shoulders I placed my impatient feet, glared at me with threatening eyes. I gained at last a position where I could command a view of the entire assembly. I glanced eagerly around among the dense mass for my beloved, but nowhere could I find her. I gnashed my teeth, and the blood went swiftly through my body. At length, in a distant part of the room and near to the magnetizer, I saw them sitting together. Oh God! how beautiful she looked! Her auburn locks were parted on her ample brow, and fell in ringlets on her shoulders; a delicate rose was entwined in her hair, and her cheeks were glowing. Had she too been spelled by that superhuman melody? If she had heard that glorious and voluptuous music, what had been her feelings? A cold shudder smote me through the heart, when I saw her dark-eyed cousin gaze earnestly in her face, and then his eyes fell with an abstracted and vacant air, and he appeared absorbed in thought. Had he too been poisoned by the intoxicating melody? He was transcendently handsome, and he had a languid look, that is more dangerous to the female heart than all the flashing eyes and eloquent tongues in the world. I could not reach the pair, and terrible emotions crowded to my brain when I reflected upon the effect of that terrible but delicious symphony. I burned with an inward and almost frantic fire, and several times I was upon the eve of screaming aloud at him, when he cast those baneful and languid looks upon her face. I tore my hair in my silent, but tormenting rage, and there I was doomed to witness the exaggerated scene, without the power of making them know that I was watching them like a hungry serpent. I was absorbed in the one vision of the hated cousin and the beloved girl. I

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