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impossible ; the monotony of our life was native purity of woman-but of the many therefore seldom broken in upon, except by who walk along the calm, unfrequented intercourse with the curate of the parish, paths of life, ignorant alike of the ambitious who was a frequent and ever-welcome guest. aims and heartless vices of the world beHe was one of those rarely-endowed beings yond. In the breast of such, love springs whom it is a privilege to know, whose pre- unconsciously, and has already grown to be sence exerts a powerful influence on all the master-passion of her nature ere chance around him; one whose graceful manners betrays it to herself. Thus it was with me: I and gentlemanly deportment are but the walked beside an abyss, heedless of danger. external signs of a pure heart and a cultivat- Let me, before proceeding further, exed mind. He devoted himself with heart culpate Herbert from all blame, which and soul to the high profession which had others, in compassion for my subsequent been his early choice; every talent, every sufferings, may feel disposed to attribute to energy was absorbed in the fulfilment of the him. He never, by word or look, showed duties it imposed upon him. He was idol- me a preference that could have misled one ized by the poor, while the rich and educat- better versed in the world's ways than I ed never failed to leave his society the was. His affectionate interest in me was better for his cheerful, earnest conversation such as a brother feels for a dear sister ; and unostentatious piety. At Monkstown and when, taught by experience, I retraced his company was welcome to all: in the his actions, I felt that his kindness sprang weary hours of langour and suffering which from friendship, not from love. composed the life of poor Lady Monkton, I had resided five years in Sir William his presence cheered and supported her; Monkton's family, during which time I had from his lips she learned lessons which frequently visited my dear sister. Each turned her sorrow into joy: to Sir William time I saw her, I felt increased surprise and he was a frank and intelligent companion ; delight at the progress I perceived in her while his playful humor rendered him a mind, as well as at her surpassing beauty. favorite with the little girls. Such was Her face, lighted by the lamp within, Herbert Somerville when Î first became ac- beamed with a radiant loveliness, which quainted with him. I saw himn day after nothing but the rare union of high mental day, and soon found in his kind sympathy power with the gentler virtues of the heart the best support under the trials of my can give. Her form was instinct with grace new position. He aided and encouraged —that native grace which emanates from a my efforts to fulfil its duties, and by always pure and lofty soul, and breathes in every setting before me the purest motives for my gesture. She was indeed a creature to comactions, made me feel that even Amy's wel- mand the highest admiration, and at the fare must be subservient to the higher same time win her way to all hearts. On desire of doing the will of God. He taught my return from these visits to Mrs. Wentme to look for happiness alone in the en-worth, I could not refrain from speaking to deavor to do what is right and well-pleasing my pupils of Amy. They had often exin the sight of Him who searches the hearts pressed a strong desire to see her. Lady of men; and while he thus elevated my Monkton now joined in the wish, and at moral nature, he led me on to new and her request I wrote to invite my darling vigorous mental efforts, by opening to me sister to Monkstown. She joyfully acceptthe higher walks of science and literature. ed the invitation so kindly given, and soon Our intercourse became more and more became the favorite of the house. Never intimate; and it will scarcely be matter of did a mother watch a child with more proud surprise that, as I esteemed him more, I delight than I followed this gay and joyous unconsciously learned to love him. I have being, as she moved along, attracting uniheard many people call it unmaidenly in a versal admiration. girl thus to bestow her affection unsolicited It was not long before I saw one eye bent by the object of her choice ; but it seems upon her with such an earnest gaze that I to me that those who so condemn know started as I beheld it. How could it be? I little of the innocence and singleness of had eagerly desired that Herbert should see mind which form the peculiar charm of my Amy-should admire and love her: it had the female character. I do not speak of seemed the one thing needful to my happithose who are trained in the school of ness that these two should know and love the world—who, living amidst its artificial each other. As day by day passed on, I glare, early imbibe a spirit foreign to the I felt increasing disquietude; my eye rest

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lessly followed Amy whenever Herbert ap- from the avowal that at times my courage proached her; and a chill sensation crept failed: there were moments when the effort through me as I saw him pay her those of concealment seemed too great for me, nameless attentions which bespeak the ex- when I longed to lay my burden down at istence of love. Amy's manner of receiving their feet and die. My hope in life, or them proved to me how well she appreciat-aught it could bring me, was dead. Amy ed Herbert's noble qualities of mind and no longer required me; she had found in heart; I saw that they already loved, and Herbert a friend and guide whose love was my reason told me they were worthy of each more to her than mine; and though she other. Suddenly the truth was revealed; would indignantly have spurned the idea, I discovered in the same moment that I too yet I felt that my work was done. I have loved, and that he whose priceless heart I lived to see that this was but a morbid, would have died to win, already loved ano- selfish feeling. The work of life to one ther that other, my own sister Amy. In earnestly resolved to do his duty can never the stillness of the night did my soul vent end; and at this moment while I write, its bitter anguish the first wild burst of though age has dimmed my sight, and left grief had subsided, the tumult of feelings me helpless and alone as far as the sevetoo fearful to be dwelt on had been appeas-rance of earthly ties can leave us so, yet do ed, and my father's voice again, in the deep I wait in patient hope of still further usesilence of that midnight hour, sounded in fulness to my fellow-creatures. God spares my ears, "Live for your sister; study her the withered tree with wise design; let us happiness before your own." Alas! alas! not mar it by our selfish murmurings. the moment was come in which I could only insure her happiness by the sacrifice of my dearest earthly hopes. "Yes, father!" I exclaimed, "with God's help I will redeem my pledge;" and falling on my knees, I poured forth my soul in prayer and supplication for wisdom and strength to fulfil the arduous task imposed upon me.

In a few months Amy and Herbert were betrothed. From the moment in which I first became aware of their mutual attachment, I never wished it otherwise. I labored to promote their happiness; I listened to the outpourings of these two hearts devoted to each other; I strove to awaken in Amy's sanguine nature a due sense of the cares and responsibilities she was taking upon herself; taught her to perceive the finer shades of beauty which lay beneath the reserve of Herbert's nature; tutored my mind once more to listen to her praises from his lips without a shudder; and learned, after many struggles, to live for them alone.

With renewed powers I now began to survey the position I held. One comfort I had that no one ever suspected the love I had cherished in secret: it must be my first object so to control my feelings, that none might ever guess the sacrifice I must make. I trembled to think of the watchfulness it would require to veil my heart's secret from Amy-from her who had ever read my soul, At length the day arrived on which I and from whom no thought had been con- was to give up all claim to Amy, and resign cealed. I foresaw that I should become the her to a husband's care. The habit of selfconfidante of both parties, and I nerved my-command had, by hourly practice, become self for the task. If I could once see them so strong, that I did not flinch even at this happily united, I thought I should then most trying time., The wedding was to have rest; but how to meet the suffering take place from the house of our beloved which lay between this time and that which friend Mrs. Wentworth, who in this, as in would see the sacrifice accomplished! all former events of our lives, acted a moAmidst such reflections I passed the night; ther's part to us. The morning of the the morning with its cold grey light dawned important day dawned brightly. I assisted in the east; the time for action was ap- my beautiful Amy to array herself in her proaching. I could not feign illness, for simple bridal attire, and led her down to what illness would have kept my faithful her expecting friends. My heart was proud Amy from my side? and it was her search-of my lovely sister; and happy in her joy, ing glance I now shrank from encountering. I forgot myself. I placed her hand in HerSweet, innocent, guileless Amy! Happy bert's, and with a firm voice said, "Herin the first consciousness of being loved, bert, I give to your charge my dearest she was less alive to any change in me than earthly treasure; love and cherish her, as she would otherwise have been; and thus II have done." The ceremony was perform was spared many a pang. I do not shrinked by our kind friend Mr. Wentworth, and

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we returned to the parsonage to breakfast. | separate the hearts that truly love. There While I could look on Amy's happy beam- is a world beyond the tomb where my being face, it was easy to bear up ; but the loved ones wait for me; there I shall rejoin time of separation came. I saw them de- the spirits that are gone before mepart, and watched the carriage that bore parents, sister, brothers, adopted children them away with apparent calmness. When of my love, friends—I shall see you all! it was out of sight, I hurried to my own And now, while I linger here, the thought room ; but ere I reached the door, fell that the secret of my heart was faithfully heavily to the ground.

kept, my pledge to my father redeemed, Months passed, and still Mrs. Went- and Amy's happiness secured, will gladden worth devised new excuses for keeping me my few remaining days. Let those who near her. But my pupils had waited for would be happy themselves, learn that the me: Sir William and Lady Monkton, with only means of attaining their end is to dea kindness unparalleled, refused to fill up vote themselves heart and soul, without the my place; and at length I returned to their smallest reservation for the idol self, to the hospitable.house, and resumed my former welfare and happiness of others. duties. Herbert and Amy had pleaded eloquently that I should live with them ; but this I firmly, though gently resisted.

Walker's EfflUVIA TRAP.-An apparatus, or, It was a source of heartfelt joy to think of as it is called, a trap, has been registered by Mr. J. them, to visit them occasionally ; but Walker, of 48, Shoe-lane, for preventing the efiluvia hourly to have witnessed their domestic of drains from rising and infecting the air. The inhappiness, would as yet have been a mar- the Society of Arts

, and a model of it can be ex

ventor obtained a silver medal for his invention from tyrdom. I continued to live for many amined at his residenee. It is intended to be placed years at Monkstown, until the marriage of | over gratings, and its advantages are that its action my two pupils left me no pretext for a cannot be affected by stones or rubbish passing longer residence there. Lady Monkton's through the grating; that it can scarcely be put out

of repair ; that it cannot be stopped by ice, and that sufferings had ended in a calm and peaceful it will prevent the etiluvia from the drain as well as death soon after my return from Amy's from the sewer. There is a chamber or receptacle wedding; and though Sir William would for water, and chains or links,&c., by which the perhave placed me at the head of his house, it of its contents and restore it to its proper position

son to whose managemenl it is intrusted, can empty and given me the honorable title of his for acting as required. Now that the health of wife, my heart too decidedly rejected the towns has become so interesting a subject for inthought of marriage to allow me to hesitate quiry, it will be of consequence to investigate the for å moment. I declined his proposal, adoption. It is simple in its construction, and ap

claims of this invention and similar ones for public but retained his friendship.

pears very efficacious. Amy had four lovely children; and conscious of my own strength, I now gladly dent, with which a very curious circumstance is

FATAL FULFILMENT OF A Dream.--A fatal acciconsented to become the inmate of their connected, occurred near Frome on Thursday last. home. Years had changed my feelings; It appears that the wife of a man named Gibbs, Herbert was to me no more than the hus- carier to Mr. Parrett, of Downhead, had dreamed band of my beloved Amy-my own kind that, while engaged in his work, the wagon had

gone over her husband and killed him. This dream brother. Their children became my own she had told him, and seemed to feel that it would in heart; I loved them, and devoted my- be fulfilled, and they were both very low-spirited in self to their education with an energy I had consequence. Having to go to Bath, the wife perthought lost to me for ever. People often with him for the sake of company, which he did.

suaded her husband to take their eldest daughter wondered why Miss Jerningham never mar- Nothing particular occurred during the journey ried, and prophesied that I should yet re- thither, and they had returned as far as Ampernounce my self-imposed duties as maiden down, at about seven o'clock in the evening, when

the horses started off, and Gibbs attempted to jump aunt; but time rolled on, and found me at out to stop them, but his smock frock-caught bemy post, still zealously and happily em- hind, and in liberating himself he pitched head fore. ployed.

most, and, the wheels passing over him, caused a God has lengthened my days beyond the melancholy and literal fulfilment of the wife's dream.

The poor fellow lived a few hours after the acciusual span allotted to man. I have sur-Ident, but did not speak. The misfortune, sad as it vived all my race; I have wept over the was, did not end here. The daughter, seeing her graves of the young and the old, as they father fall, jumped out to his assistance, but fell, one by one fell from my side.

Some were

and the wheels passing over her, she was killed on

the spot. A widow and eight young children are taken in full maturity; others dropped like thus left to the care of a merciful Providence.—Bath blossoms from the tree. But death cannot Chronicle.

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LOOKING back

You have promised that through life
Wander we through life's long track,

We shall journey heart-united,
Looking back

Husband fond, and faithful wife,
Where a parted sun's soft ray

And I trust the vow thus plighted : Lingers yet across the way.

Hand in hand, and side by side,

Through life's storms and sunny weather, Gazing home

We will our one fortune bide,
As the slow bark cleaves the foam,

And at last grow old together.
Gazing home;
Seems the haven, far before,

What if Time's unsparing wing
Nothing to that radiant shore.

Of some pleasures has berest us?

Let us not by murmuring From thy side

Lose the many that are left us. To that shore pale phantoms glide,

What though youth and bloom depart, Pale beside thee, but they wear

Swift as birds of lightest feather ? Haloes of refulgent air,

Why repine with feeble heart?
Standing there,

Shall we not grow old together?
And thou beckonest—but in vain,
Never will they come again!

Few indeed have been our years,
Strange it seems,

Yet enough our hearts to bind, love; This vague show of fading dreams,

And to show how many tears This wan Present shall at last

In life's brightest cup we find, love! Be the bright, calm, irrevocable Past!

Since in our united youth,

We twain sported on the heather, O! look on !

Dearest! it is meet, in truth, Turn thy face from glories gone!

That we should grow old together! Underneath yon dim

sea-line
Founts of deeper glory shine;
Watch and wait, till in thy sight
Shall that dimness change to light,
Pledge of the coming dawn that knows not
night.

From Howitt's Journal.
It may be som
I cannot tell—I do not know.

SONNET.
Shall the trail vine forsake its prop, to lean
On cords let down from heaven, unfelt, unseen? BY ANNE C. LYNCH, OF NEW YORK.

I may believe,
That hinders not that I should gaze and grieve, Oh thou who once on earth, beneath the weight
Seeking to know not what, and loving what Í Of our mortality didst live and move,
leave!

The incarnation of profoundest love;
Ah! chide me not, the vexed spirit saith, Who on the Cross that love didst consummate,
Love is more strong than Faith.

Whose deep and ample fulness could embrace

The poorest, meanest of our fallen race, Is there no art,

How shall we e'er that boundless debt repay? Thou weary, wilful Heart,

By long loud prayers in gorgeous temples said? So to transform thy Faith that it shall be By rich oblations on thine altars laid? The shadow of a near Eternity ?

Ah no! not thus thou didst appoint the way; Not leaning on the Hour which cannot last, When thou wast bowed our human woe beneath, Not weeping o'er a perishable Past,

Then as a legacy thou didst bequeath But eagle-eyed-and patient as a dove. Earth's sorrowing children to our ministry ; Lifting itself upon the wings of Love! And as we do to them, we do to thee.

From the People's Journal.

From Sharpe's Magazine.

THE DEAF GIRL.

ONE MORE.

BY W. J. LINTON,

One more slinking from the contest,
One more weary of the toils !
Thou, 100, Friend ! art weigh'd and wantest.

Lo, he deem'd we play'd with foils; But he finds our game is earnest; And his shrinking soul recoils.

ANNE A. FREMONT.
He speaks to them God's word,
For all are fix'd in mute attention now,

And not a is stirr'd,
But joy sits smiling on each gentle brow,
And o'er each cheek has stol'n a brighter hue-
Oh! that I could but hear those glad words too.

A mournful fate is mine;
To live in this fair world, to see, to feel

How all things are divine-
A deathless and pervading spirit steals
Throughout all Nature-a deep soul, a voice-
But I can never hear earth's things rejoice.

And when young children bring
Bright buds and flowers from the sunny dell,

Brave young Spirit, passion-furnaced,
Surely thou shalt lead the world!
Scarcely won thy spurs, thou turnest.
How thy budding life unfurl'd
Truth and gentleness and fervor :
How we loved thee, we storm-whirld.

Freedom !-thou wert sworn to serve her;
Gave thy hand on't: 'twas a grasp
Of exile :-Loose thy fingers, Swerver !

Fame, affections, cautions, clasp
Thy being: ay ! SELF, hidden under
Fruit, like Cleopatra's asp.
Thou and martyr Faith must sunder :
Keep thy usefulness; escape
Worldly loss, friends, fears, and wonder.

Make thy life smooth; take the shape
Of the times, their hue and fashion;
Play the philanthropic ape.
Gain men's praise; dispense compassion;
White-wash wrongs; speak fair to all;
Keep thy sleek soul free from passion.

Be respectable; and call
Thy treason care, thy shame self-guidance:
Yet thou know'st not of thy fall.

Still thou bidd'st us have reliance;
As of old thy heart is ours;
In thy face we fling defiance.

Let it pass !- A few short hours,
And our onward march shall leave thee
To thine own scorn, 'mid thy flowers.

Never more can we believe thee;
Hang not on us ! take thy stand
With the foemen : doth that grieve thee?

Only that way, hand to hand
Can we meet again : beseech thee,
Load thy soft arm with a brand !

Let thy new friends courage teach thee;
Wear the bold front that assoyls
The renegade: our smile shall reach thee,

Pass !—Time hide thee 'mong his spoils: ,
One more slinking from the contest,
One more weary of the toils !

Where the cool fountains spring,
And of their wand'rings in the green woods tell,
I try upon their brow each word to trace-
I can but know them by the speaking face.

I bow my head down low,
E'en to the beautiful and quiv’ring lip,

With a vain hope: ah, no!
The rock hears not the sunny waters drip.
I turn away heart-sick with grief to sigh-
Unheard by me the joyful melody.

My mother bends to speak,
I see her moving lip, I feel her breath

Come warm against my cheek-
How yearns my soul, but all is still as death;
With moist uplifted eye she turns away-
Alas! I cannot even hear her pray.

from Hogg's Weekly Instructor.
LOOK AT THE BRIGHT SIDE.

Look at the bright side! The sun's golden rays

All nature illumines and the heart of man cheer

eth ;

Why wilt thou turn so perversely to gaze
On that dark cloud which now in the distance ap-

peareth ?
Look at the bright side! Recount all thy joys;

Speak of the mercies which richly surround thee; Muse not for ever on that which annoys;

Shut not thine eyes to the beauties around thee. Look at the bright side! Mankind, it is true, Have their failings, nor should they be spoken of

lightly; But why on their faults concentrate ihy view, Forgetting their virtues which shine forth so

brightly? Look at the bright side! And it shall impart Sweet peace and contentment, and grateful emo

tion, Reflecting its own brilliant lines on thy heart,

As the sun-beams that mirror themselves in the

ocean.

Look at the bright side !--nor yield to despair :

If some friends forsake, yet others still love thee; And when the world seems mournful colors to wear, Oh, look from the dark earth to heaven above

thee.

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