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him to her sister's, after receiving a promise to re now he has brought his certificate with him, and turn for her in two or three days.

wishes to be married on Saturday." Towards the close of the next afternoon, as she "And this is Wednesday," exclaimed her friend, sat sewing by the window, she saw Hiram drive into } in surprise. “Can you tell whether you shall love the yard accompanied by Amy. Her breath came him so quick ?" quick and short, but she tried to look unconcerned “Why, you know that I have been thinking of as she went out to welcome them.

him for three weeks,” replied Mary, with naïveté. “Put on thy bonnet, my dear," were Amy's first Then followed many questions as to his moral and words as she saw her. “We left company at home, religious character, bis domestic habits, &c. &c., all and cannot tarry."

of which were very favorably answered by Mary; Poor Mary sat down, and, with her hands before and her friend saw, with surprise, that her mind her face, for a moment gave way to her feelings. was made up, though perhaps she did not acknowThen, suddenly rising, found that her good friend ledge it to herself. had already informed her sister that Mary must go Still, she could not conscientiously advise her to home, and nothing remained but for her to collect accept his proposal without farther consideration. her work and prepare for the ride.

She urged her to take a little trip to Edgeworth, This was soon done, and they were on their way. visit her friends, and make inquiries concerning She longed to ask some questions, yet dared not. him; but there were strong objections on her part But Amy waited not for questions. Turning to her to adopting this course. He had come prepared to companion, she said, abruptly

take her back with him ; he could not wait; and “Thy friend looks feeble; he has not been out for she hated to disappoint him. a fortnight. He will need thy care and nursing to “But," suggested Mrs. Romaine, “if you should make him well."

find, on your arrival, that he was not altogether Mary could not reply. She felt as if she should such as you imagine, you might regret all your life weep, not for sorrow, not for joy, but for-she knew that you had been so hasty." not what.

“He thinks I shall not regret it," replied her Who shall attempt to describe the workings of a companion.—(Oh, the trust of woman !)—"Ho woman's heart?

thinks," continued she, “ that it will be a good home Soon they were at their own door. She seemed for me; and my friends, where I am staying, liko in a dream. Hiram and Amy were upon the steps, him very much." and assisting her, before she hardly knew what she After some more conversation, it was at length was about. She was intending to run for a few mo proposed by Mrs. Romaine that she should write to ments to her own room, when the parlor door her friends, and request an immediate answer. opened, and John came into the entry, accompa This advice was eagerly accepted, and Mary benied by a tall gentleman, whom he introduced as sought the aid of her friend in accomplishing it. Levi Harrington, from Edgeworth. She made a “You know what is proper; write just as you low courtesy, and hastily retired.

think best." Amy insisted she should go into her warm room Mrs. Romaine complied; and, stating to Mrs. to take off her outer garments, “For,” said she, Eames's friend in Edgeworth what had occurred, “thy hands are like ice."

asked her to send in reply whatever she knew of At tea, Mary grew more calm, and was able to Mr. Harrington. The answer was to be directed to answer the questions addressed to her; and when Mrs. Romaine, and was expected the next morning. afterwards Mr. Harrington requested an interview, She then invited Mary to call in the afternoon, and she was much more composed than she had ex- } introduce Mr. Harrington to them. This was done, pected to be.

and the visit proved one of satisfaction to all parties. What was said upon that occasion can be more True to her appointment, Mary called the next easily imagined than described. Though doubtless morning to see if there was an answer to the letter. very interesting to the parties concerned, we are not None had been received, and the subject had occa at all sure it would be equally so to our readers, and sioned Mrs. Romaine no small anxiety ; but no adwill therefore only relate so much of it as was com vice was now necessary. The widow Eames was municated by her, on the following morning, to her fully decided not to disappoint so faithful a suitor, particular friend, the clergyman's wife, to whom she and only wished her friends to approve her choice. very properly went for advice.

Busying herself about Mrs. Romaine's dress to After conversing with Mrs. Romaine for an hour, hide her face, Mary askedon topics of common interest, she suddenly covered “Now wouldn't you, if you were in my place, be her face and said, “I have something strange to } married Saturday, as he wishes ?" tell you.” She then related the circumstances with Mrs. Romaine could not resist the pleading look, which we are acquainted.

as she turned to reply, and said “He has been waiting for me seven years, and } “I don't know but I should."

THE ITALIAN SISTERS.

179

This was enough, the matter was settled ; Mr. there is no time for regret now. The bridegroom Harrington need not be longer harassed with doubt.} and the bride take their places; the blessing is inBefore she left her friend, all the arrangements for voked; their hands are joined; the man of God the wedding were made, and Mary returned to give pronounces the words which unite them for life; a her consent, and to pack her trunk.

prayer is offered; the benediction pronounced; and Preparations now went briskly on. Friendly --they are gone. visits were made; presents received; trunks packed with great speed. The marriage was to be cele In closing this sketch, I will only add that Mary brated at a quarter before two, that they might be found in Edgeworth, the home of her youth, calm in season for the cars to take them to Edgeworth. and quiet happiness; and Mr. Harrington fully

At the appointed time, Mr. Harrington and Mary, { realized the bliss which he had so many years with her personal relatives and friends, made their į anticipated. Months rolled away, and their honeyappearance. She had just begun to realize the im moon continued to shine on them with increasing portance of the step she was about to take; but brightness. May it shine forever!

THE ITALIAN SISTERS.

BY HELEN HAMILTON.

" It is beautiful,” she answered, "only too beautiPART I.

ful for me." In a small room in one of the poorer class of { "Nothing can be too beautiful for the future Lady lodging-houses of Rome, sat a young and beautiful Lyndon," he whispered, while a rosy blush overgirl. The glowing loveliness of Italy was hers— spread the fair features of his companion. “But the warm yet brilliant complexion, the dark ex. where is Teresa ?” he added, glancing around; " is pressive eyes, the wealth of raven bair-all were she gone ?" combined to render her an exquisite specimen of “Yes, and all is gecure,” was the reply. Roman beauty. She was clad in a rich bridal cos-} “Then come, I am impatient to call you my wife, tume, and her dress of snowy satin and costly lace, carissima." She placed her hand in his, and he led ornamented with flowers and pearls, contrasted her to the priest. strangely with the aspect of the room she occupied. And now while the ceremony is proceeding, let It was small, poorly furnished, and its only orna- us cast a look at the bridegroom. ments were a few colored drawings of Italian scene. He was tall and finely formed, with delicately cut ry hanging here and there upon the walls, and a features, large deep blue eyes, and a profusion of large crucifix of ebony and alabaster which stood on dark brown hair which wreathed itself in close curls a small table draped with colored stuff. An old around his head. He was handsomely dressed, and guitar, with a portfolio of music, lay at the feet of bore in his manners the trace of bis rank, (Lord the fair girl, as if she had been trying to while Lyndon was heir presumptive to an earldom,) yet away the time by playing upon the instrument. an expression rested upon his handsome mouth

She was evidently waiting for some one. From which, though difficult to describe, cansed an invo. time to time, as the roll of a coming carriage caught luntary feeling of dislike in those who beheld him her ear, she sprang up and hastened to the window, for the first time. but, always disappointed, turned away with a look Tho ceremony was nearly ended, when the door of weariness to resume her seat. At last, after an was suddenly thrown open, and a young girl rushed hour's weary watch, a carriage stopped at the door, in, her features, though wan and wasted with recent footsteps were heard ascending the stairs, the door illness, glowing with excitement, and her whole was pushed open, and a young man entered the room frame trembling with emotion. “The Holy Virgin followed by a priest. Uttering an exclamation of be praised !" she exclaimed; “I am not too late to joy, the fair girl flew to meet the first, who greeted save you, Nina!" her with a smile and the words, “Well, dear Nina, "To save me !” exclaimed Nina, a flush crimsonhave I made you wait long ?” pronounced in Italian {ing her cheek; “from what? I am Lord Lyndon's with a slight English accent.

wife." “Oh, very long, Enrico ! I was so tired; but now “His wife? Oh! foolish girl, did you believe you are come, I am satisfied," she replied, smiling. him ?” asked the other. “This is an infernal snare,

“Does your dress please you ?" he asked, atten. Nina. Look at that man," she continued, pointing tively surveying her. I feared it was not hand to the priest, who, pale and trembling, leaned against some enough.”

the wall. “He is one of the lord's servants dressed

up to trick you to your destruction. That is the more painful to look upon than a frown. Such was reason why he insisted on a secret marriago; but tho Marchesa d'Agliano, the most beautiful woman in his valet, more honest than his master, revealed to } London. A servant announced “Lord Lyndon," me the wholo plot scarce an hour ago, and I hast and, closing the portfolio, she rose to receive him, ened to save you."

the smile on her lip giving place to one of welcome. “ Nina, 'tis false !” exclaimed Lord Lyndon, an Five years had made but little change in the apgrily.

pearance of Lord Lyndon, except that he was still “I am his wife, Teresa ; you have been deceived," handsomer than when he won poor Nina's heart, said Nina, and throwing back her veil, she gazed and his manners had acquired additional grace. with a look of confiding fondness into her lover's Clasping the offered hand of the Marchesa, he pressed eyes.

it to his lips before he spoke; then drawing a chair “Read, deluded girl," replied Teresa, placing an close to hers, he said, “Well, Beatrico, to-day the open letter in her hand. She glanced over a few year of my probation is ended. It is now exactly lines, an ashy paleness overspread her features, and } one year since the day I first told you I loved you; with a moan of unutterable anguish, she sank faint- } will you not give me a definite answer now?" ing into the arms of her sister. “My lord, your evil The Marchesa listened with the same cold and purpose is foiled," said Teresa, calmly. “Will it caustic smile playing upon her lips, and when he please you, leave me?" and she pointed with a gesture paused for a reply, without heeding his words, she of command to the door. Uttering an exclamation said, “Lord Lyndon, I will tell you a little story." of rago and scorn, he rushed from the room, followed The lover looked surprised, but without heeding his by the pretended priest, and the sisters were left astonished looks, she pressed the black heavy braids alone.

from his brow, and, after a moment's thought, began. Hitherto the conversation had been carried on in English, but now she spoke in Italian with a rapidity

of enunciation that effectually precluded every atPART II.

tempt at interruption.

"Some years ago, my lord, there lived in Rome Five years have passed away since the events two orphan sisters. They were of noble birth, but described in the first part of this talo, and our scene poor, and they depended upon their talents for is no longer laid in the little room at Rome, but in subsistence; the elder taught drawing, and the the elegant boudoir of a titled lady in London. younger music. She was very beautiful, and very

The room was richly yet tastefully furnished. guileless, and the elder watched over her with all a The delicate tints of the carpet and tho satin-covered mother's care, for she was the last being who claimfurniture harmonized well with the silvery bue} ed her love. She always accompanied her when of the paper that covered the walls. A few beauti she wont to give her lessons, and guarded her with ful paintings, one an exquisite Madonna, the rest { the watchfulness necessary in a land where beauty glowing Italian landscapes, were hung with an ar. is almost a curse, but at last she fell sick, and her tist's care in the best lights, and in a recess stood {sister went forth alone to her daily tasks. She met, ono perfect statuo, a graceful Hebe, from the magical at the house of one of her pupils, a young foreigner; chisel of Canova. Above the mantel-piece of Sienna { he was captivated by her beauty, and made her promarble hung one other painting; it was concealed { posals, which she spurned with indignation; he then by a curtain of black velvet, on which the words offered her his hand on condition that the marriage “La Mia Sorella” were embroidered in silver thread. should be kept secret; she loved him, and she con

Scated at a marble table, which was drawn near sented. But the valet of the young man sought out the centre of the room, was a young and beautiful the elder, told her that her sister was about to bewoman. Her large, black, brilliant eyes, and heavy come the victim of a pretended marriage performed braids of silken hair of that rich bluish black never by a false priest, and, as a proof of his assertions, seen except on a native of Italy, contrasted the showed her a letter which bis master had given him dazzling whiteness of her broad and noble brow, and to burn, a congratulation from some one as base as the soft yet rich tint of her cheek. Her dress of himself, on securing so easily the lovely prize. He violet satin was cut so as to display the perfect con indicated to her the house where the ceremony was tour of her ivory shoulders, which were farther set to be performed; she hastened thither, and arrived off by a berthe of black lace fastened with a diamond in time to save her sister; but her heart was broken. star. She was employed in looking over the con Wealth and rank became theirs by the death of a tents of a small portfolio, covered with crimson vel. distant relative, but all too late. My lord, look here." vet, with clasps and corners of gold studded with And rising from her seat, the lady drew aside the pearls, and filled with small pieces of paper, all in black velvet curtain, and Lord Lyndon looked once the same handwriting, and bearing the same signa more upon the face of Nina. But how changed ! ture. A smile curved her beautiful lips, a strange The same brilliant eyes and glowing cheeks were smile for a mouth so lovely; it was cold and bitter, there, but the lips that had ever greeted his coming

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with smiles wore an expression of deep yet patient “Then I must go unpardoned,” he said, in a low sadness, and the very beauty of that fair face seemed tone. like flowers strewed upon & corpso to hide by its Beatrice buried her face in her hand for a fow loveliness the ravages of death. Lord Lyndon { moments; when she again raised her head, the seemed violently agitated, and seizing the arm of scornful expression of her features had given place the Marchesa, he exclaimed, “In pity, tell me, Bea- to one of sadness. “My lord,” she said, “I believe trice, is she dead ?”

you, and in that belief I renounce a project of ven. She burst into a sardonic laugh. “Listen to this geance treasured ever since my sister's death. The man!” she exclaimed; "he breaks the heart of a Italian count who nightly tempted you to the gaming girl who truly loved him, and then asks, Is she table, and to whom you lost such immenso sums, dead? She died in my arms scarce a year from was my tool, for I sought to avenge my sister by the time you so cruelly deceived her. I am her sis taking from you what I belioved every Englishman ter; but as you never beheld my face but once, I can held dearer than life, money. Here," she conpardon you for not recognizing in the Marchesa tinued, laying her hand upon the little velvet-covered Beatrice Teresa d'Agliano the sister of your vic { portfolio, “lies all your wealth, and thus do I restore tim."

it to you." He did not seem to hear her, but stood gazing on She opened the portfolio, and, taking out the the portrait, his lip quivering with painful emotion. papers it contained, tore them into atoms; then, “ Beatrice," he at length said in a deep troubled turning to Lord Lyndon, she said, “My lord, we tone, “I scarcely can hope you will believe my} words, yet if ever remorse visited human heart, mine “Forever! Oh, not forever, Beatrice !" ho exhas felt its bitterest pangs. Were Nina living, my claimed. “Your generous forbearanco gave mo hand and heart should be hers; but, alas! I can give hope; do not crush it at once.” pou no proofs of the sincerity of what I say. I dare “My lord, farewell,” she repeated, extending her no longer hope you will listen to my suit; I can no

hand. He raised it to his lips, and then, with a look longer offer you my hand; I may only plead that

of passionate adoration, repeated her last words, you will pardon the bitter wrong I have inflicted on

}"Farewell," and retired. As his last footstep died you, and that you will believe in the truth of my away, she turned towards the portrait. “Is not this repentance."

the vengeance that would have gladdened thy heart, “ You can then feel remorse, contrition!” she ex- } my sister ?" she murmured. claimed; "you, the cold-hearted libertine ; you, the }

It may have been the waving of the curtains, the murderer of my sister! No, I cannot realize such flickering of the dying sunlight, but something like a change."

a smile flitted over the sad sweet face of Nina's portrait.

part now forever.

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well.”

WOMAN.

BY W. L. TIFFANY.

ALL men in the society of women are romantic. I wounds us often and sorely. We may not always Nature holds this quality to be the fittest garb for call him brother, and he is not lovely in our eyes. the occasion, and the onlookers stare that its plastic However much wo envy his superior energy, or acfolds enwrap the uncouth as well as the graceful. tion, we find sympathy or joy with but few of his Each, gentle or clownish, selects his Eve for the kind: throughout the pages of history even, here nonce, and devotedly clothes himself with an air. and there one only. He feels that grace is becoming to the presence of The difference in sex is a ravishing riddle, to solve beauty, and courtesy an excellence not to be left which our attempts at least never fail. The Sphynx, unperformed.

Nature, hides her secret, yet gives us woman, of Among men, we are bored, angered, or pleased, whom we are born, by whom nurtured, and under as the case may be, but we never idealize. We find whose tender care when saying “Thy will be done,” no man who absorbs our whole nature, in our admi. } we call Death somewhat robbed of his sting. It is ration for his own. No male can fill our soul with certain that the admiration with which woman fills & vision of beauty completed, or a dream of delight all mankind is somewhat a cunning and sleight of unalloyed; becauso, like us, he is male which suffices Nature, with a design to propagato our race: yet to keep us distant and foreign. Resembling us, and the spiritual-minded man finds it somewhat difficult wo him, knowing our own vulgarity, we dread his. { to reconcile Nature's main object with his own paraCompeting with us continually through life, he mount desire, which is to define and enjoy woman

divine. Grief and terrors may threaten, yet we er. ult that our all-conquering passion will prevail. Though comfortless, landless, and desolate, have we not an imperial realm in the empyrean, where we walk in golden companionship with joys whose fulness suffices the soul to its uttermost desire? To banish a Dante from Florence with scorn and insult, is not the heavy misfortune to him it seems to others, for he shall build cities throughout all space fairer than any Florence, and Beatrice with her rewarding beauty shall beckon to him from each.

The soul as naturally craves love, as the invalid longs for his native air. Its solace and health it finds likewise therein; for the soul was born of love eternal, and the highest triumph of philosophy and religion is to teach its perfect reunion with its eternal type. Yet man so misjudges and demeans him. self, that to acknowledge to an earnest love, or enrapturing desire, never so pure, is to own to a comical and witless thing, bringing naught save jeers and ridicule in its train. Hence when the firo of the soul burns purest and brightest within us, we seek a darkness or solitude, hoping there for the force, or fortune, to create or meet our shrine, that we may adore and enjoy unobserved.

SONG.

as unity and completion. At the best, the circle of his insight is circumscribed, and none of us may question the Infinite.

To see a beautiful woman appropriately costumed leaves the eyo nothing to seek. It has found its ideal' and panacea. Mountains, waterfalls, pictures, statues, Rome, and Vienna are all insignificant in comparison to her, and sicken us with their death and inanity. Radiant in her blessed beauty, per-} haps inhabiting our dwelling, sitting near us at our meals, passing us in our walks, what satisfying pleasure possesses the soul! We would tempt any fate to find favor in her eyes. If forced to reflect, she is beyond our attainment, or exists for another, the tender and lingering melancholy felt in the heart is sweeter far than many a joy. Language overruns? the heavens and earth for images that shall faithfully reflect her eyes and hair, the mould of her throat, the color of her lips, and the correctness of her shape. Finally, recognizing the soul as being the secret spring of beauty thus streaming through her, we are doubly and virtuously inspired and delighted. At this season, an heroic action is the most natural one; a sacrifice, if noble, most easy to undergo. We } bid meanness and cowardice at once begone. Wo neither are shamefaced, nor do we lack anything. The conquering Carolus Magnus is then our equal only. The song and wisdom of a Shakspeare we have attained at once. Her beauty awakes our own. The miraculous light of her eyes transforms us to heroes and emperors.

Wherever a graceful, genial woman dwells, her home and vicinage ar ate once poetical. Her palace or cottage is an enchanting realm to us. The flowers and trees around partake of her loveliness, and reflect it variously and anew. The bare hills no longer seem dreary and irksome; a glad stateliness of her enwraps them and commands us. We penetrate the leafy valley and lonely glen, peopling the solitudes with the coy nymph, and doubting the poet's fairy brood no longer. Each spring and river is bereft of life denial, and the Undine is our warm and fleshly familiar.

It is because of this transforming spirit that Art 80 revels in the beauty surrounding woman, and everywhere seeks its immortal embodiment and fixidity in her form. All lovers are artists and poets, with passion and genius variously measured and striving. The dream of ecstasy completely possessing one, he shall travail with lifelong sweat and agony, that the wondrous beauty of his Beatrice may be revealed to us in words, colors, or stone, that all } men may adore with him. The Medicean Venus, Raphael's Madonna, and the “Loves of the Poets," in thus enchaining our adoration, are symbols of our true religion. To have lived without loving, is to have lived negatively and slavishly. To have loved once and completely, is to havo conquered the uni. verse and bound it in chains. No fortune can be adverse while our condition simply is priceless and }

BY WM. . BRIGGS.

I've been wand'ring—I've been wand'ring

Where the flowers are blooming fair,
With their petals turned to the summer light,

In the breath of the perfumed air;
Where the wild bird's lay through the sunny dav

Rang out from the myrtle bowers; Yet slowly the dim hours passed away

To my heart in that land of flowers.

I've been wand'ring-I've been wand'ring

By the side of quiet streams, Whose murmurs brought to my soul the spell

That woke in my earliest dreams;
And the noisy brawl of the waterfall

Called me once more a boy :
Oh! the heart grows faint to idly paint

The glow of a vanished joy!

I've been wand'ring-I've been wand'ring

In the land of citron flowers; In the southern clime where the moonlight falls

With a charm unknown to ours;
Where the dreamy spells of their baunted della

Are broke by the bulbul's cry,
And the holy sign of the southern cross

Gleams out on the midnight sky.

Yet I come with a wakening heart once more,

Bold land of the northern blast!
For my spirit pines in the gorgeous glow,

And yearns for the dear old Past;
For the dear old Past and the dear old eyes

That glanced from the window pane;
For the wild delight of the winter's night,

And my native land again!

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