handkerchief-or some other humble offering, bestowed by the poor, in honest good-will, upon the still poorer; and every ghastly countenance among the sufferers was lighted up by an expression of joyful and grateful excitement. There was one among them, old, and apparently heavily afflicted, who was gazing with an intensity of affection, almost painful to behold, upon a well-dressed young man, a student of some German college, who sat beside her bed, holding her poor thin hand. Their history was evident. She had sacrificed much to secure to a beloved son the education and appearance of more liberal means; and if I might judge by the affectionate expression of the young scholar's countenance, her motherly self-denial was neither unappreciated nor unrewarded. Several of the convalescent were dressed and seated among their friends, and the appearance of some even justified the information I had received, that the poor and needy were detained by the Elizabethines long after their recovery, provided they were unable to work for their maintenance elsewhere. "It must be highly gratifying to your feelings, dear sister, to see those poor creatures restored to health and usefulness through your ministry," said I to my guide. "There are many here whose looks do equal honor to the skill and to the tenderness of those by whose care they have been tended." "You must remember, however," replied Sister Agatha, "that we frequently receive incurable patients; and that among so large a number, we have the grief of seeing many die, notwithstanding our most anxious exertions. There," she continued in a whisper, pointing to the last bed we had passed, "there lies one to whom it only remains for us to administer the last offices." I looked, and saw a wasted pallid face, turned towards the pillow, as though to drown the murmur of the crowded ward. Her eyes were closed, and her slight delicate hand lay open upon the sheet in the relaxation of debility. She was young, and as far as I could judge from the adjustment of her linen, was of a better order than the other patients. As I paused for a moment at the bottom of the bed, to look upon her with the reverence due to one who is about to put on the garb of immortality, my shadow fell upon her face. She unclosed her sunken eyes for a moment, and then shut them, after a look of despair-a shudder of hopelessness, which I can never forget. I passed on hastily; and looked at my attendant for an explanation, as she led me into a little chapel at the end of the gallery, opening into it for the service of the sick. I observed that the eyes of the compassionate nun were filled with tears; but as we were now before the altar, she knelt down to repeat a paternoster, without replying to my mute inquiry. Some minutes afterwards, as we were descending the stairs towards the church of the convent, I took courage to question her concerning the dying woman. 66 You say that she will not long survive; yet of all the hospital, hers was the only bed unsoothed by some kind visiter. The poor creature appears totally deserted-has she no friends in Vienna ?" "She is heavily visited both in mind and body," replied Sister Agatha, evasively. "The Almighty hath been pleased to deal with her as with those he loveth. When she first became our inmate, she was placed next unto the bed of the young student's mother; and the sight of his assiduous filial affection proved so great a trial to the poor crea ture's feelings, that compassion induced me to remove her to the end of the ward; where her desolate condition is less apparent to others-less painful to herself." At this moment we entered the church; and from a feeling, intelligent woman, Sister Agatha became at once the narrow devotee-the blind votary of superstition. Her order, and its dignity her church and its relics-her director, and his anathemas, became paramount in her mind; and she proudly claimed my admiration for the skele ton of the giant St. Columbus, which sparkled through its glass coffin with ribs set in false stones and tinsel-and for the choir behind whose mysterious curtain, the hymns of the veiled Elizabethines are heard with reverence by the congregation. From the church we passed into the inner sacristy; where the good nun expatiated right eloquently upon the beauties of several gilt calvaries and holy sepulchres, presented to their treasury by Maria Theresa and her successors. Despairing of bringing her back to the subject of the dying woman above, I prepared to take my leave by presenting a trifling offering towards the funds of the institution; and I was indiscreet enough to venture a second donation, with a request that it might be applied to the especial use of the poor deserted woman. Sister Agatha, who had accepted my first gift with gratitude, put back my hand with indignation when I tendered the second. Have you observed," she inquired, " any symptoms of partiality in our arrangements or any want of general comfort? What do our sick require that is not instantly administered? Nay-what fancy or ca price do they express, which is not anxiously gratified by the reverend mother?" I craved forgiveness for my involuntary offence, which I attributed, and truly, to the heartfelt compassion inspired by the deserted condition of the dying patient; and Sister Agatha, after silently examining my countenance, as if to assure herself what degree of confidence she might place in my discretion, replied, "Well, well; say no more of it-I perceive that the request, however indiscreet, arose from a gentle feeling. Stay!" she continued, leading me back into the sacristy and closing the door after us, 'you are young-you belong to the children of the world-and the history of that unfortunate woman may prove a useful lesson. Have you leisure to listen?" 66 I seated myself by her side with grateful alacrity; and Sister Agatha, taking out her knitting, commenced the following narration. "I will call the poor soul Cecilia; and as I have no fear that you will discover her real name and title, I will fairly own that she is born of one of the noblest houses of Hungary-her ancestors have even been among the most liberal benefactors of the convent in which her last sufferings have been alleviated. Cecilia became an orphan shortly after her birth; and as her fortune was considerable, she was bequeathed to the guardianship of the head of her father's family. Even now you may judge that she was once a lovely creature; and when I add that her disposition was volatile, and her education totally neglected, you will be the more inclined to look with lenity upon the indiscretion that induced her at the age of sixteen to elope from her uncle's palace, and to bestow her hand and affections upon a very unworthy object. "It was during the occupation of the army of Napoleon; and at a period when the Austrian ing home of my early years, grew sweet by the comparison. nobility found themselves compelled to admit into their domestic circles many French officers who, at another time, would have been spurned from "But on my return to Austria, I found myself their society. Among the rest, a colonel of cur a greater alien-a still more reviled, more desolate rassiers was quartered in the palace of prince creature! I was assured by the survivors of my - of, Cecilia's uncle. He proved to be a family that in renouncing their name by my imman of ignoble birth-ignoble character-ignoble prudent marriage, I had forfeited all claims upon habits; but the poor child who had been accus- those who bore it; and that by intruding my begtomed to receive among her proud relations only gary upon the joys of their prosperity, I had but the harshest usage and coldest severity, was too hardened their hearts towards my wretched chileasily touched by the adulation of the wily French-dren. man to be sensible to these defects. His anxiety, too, to possess himself of Cecilia's ample dower, taught him to conceal them-if not from her family -at least from her deluded self. To dwell as little as possible upon her errors, permit me to say that Cecilia was induced by her lover to elope from Vienna; and that she became a wife and a mother before she had attained her seventeenth year. 666 S But "I shall never forget the v,' said poor Cecilia," continued the nun, 666 o which I turned from their lofty portal towards my own obscure retreat; my heart swelling within me as I clasped my lovely children to my desolate boso. I had then some means of support still remaining-the savings of my frugality;-and I had sil strength to work; so that when I shut mysel up in my "Were you better acquainted with our national own chamber, I resolved that no extrety of want habits, it would be useless to add that she was im- should induce me to court a second rejse. mediately denounced as an outcast and an alien, by I had not duly calculated upon the ntre of the her indignant family; that her name became a for- trials I should be doomed to undergo. I as thought bidden sound, and that she was soon accounted as but of ceaseless labor-of domestic drudgery;-of among the dead. Well would it have been for the want of food, of want of rest; and these miseries unhappy creature, had the Almighty indeed so I could bear, and I did bear them cheerfully. But ordered her destiny! for long before her splendid with all my hardships I was unable to earn suffifortune was dissipated—and a few years enabled cient bread for my children. I saw the loveliness her depraved husband to squander it away-Cecilia with which God had gifted them, gradually fade had become an object of disgust to him for whose away;-their strength wasted-their little voices sake she had sacrificed her kindred and her coun- grew feeble as they breathed their endearments to try; and neglect and cruelty sufficiently justified their miserable mother-their growth was susthe antipathy conceived against him by her rela-pended by want of proper nourishment-and already tions on their first acquaintance. my fears foretold a still more fatal result. "The fortune of war was fated to relieve her from the persecutions of him whose obscure name she bore;-at the age of twenty-one, Cecilia found herself a widow and the mother of three children as destitute as herself! And now, for the first time since her imprudent marriage, she ventured to address her exasperated uncle-for the wants of her innocent babes taught her to overcome the suggestions of her innate national pride-to forget the sensitive delicacy of her character; and in a letter dictated by humility and repentance, she craved the charity of her haughty kindred. "A tardy and brief reply was vouchsafed to her supplication;-but it contained a small remittance; and in the present relief afforded by the gift, Cecilia forgot the wound inflicted by the terms in which it was bestowed. "A second time, however, the young mother found herself penniless; and her sufferings were now aggravated by the loss of her youngest child. 'I nursed it,' said she, when she told me her pitiful story, and I verily fear it died of famine, for I was well nigh starved myself. But the despair which overcame me when I stretched its little wasted limbs for the grave, gave me courage to apply once more to my cruel uncle. Could my heart resist such a suggestion? Oh! no; I addressed myself again and earnestly to my estranged connexions; and my adjuration was so fraught with the expressive wretchedness of my mind, that it could not be utterly disregarded. It chanced also, that my boy had become, through the death of a relation, the heir presumptive to a distant branch of my family; and my uncle, mindful perhaps of this contingency, was moved to offer him his protection. Resign the care of your children to me,' he wrote in reply to my petition. Your conduct has proved that you are unfit to become the directress of their education; and, by your own declaration, you lack the means for their support. I will provide liberally for them both; if they are permitted to assume my name, and if their mother consents to leave this country at once, and forever.' “Rather beg their bread-rather perish with them! was my first exclamation on perusing this barbarous request. And I did beg-again and again-humbly and earnestly; but perhaps 1 wanted something of the lowly air of habitual supplication, or hunger and despair might impart a look of repellant ferocity to my countenance, for the hearts of the humane were seldom touched by A second supply was the result of my appeal; my supplications. In a few weeks therefore my but as it was accompanied by an assurance that it fears recurred with added force; my pride, my would be the last, I resolved to profit by its tem-courage failed under the solicitudes of a mother's porary relief, and return to my native country. I thought that the sight of my babes, in their destitute condition, might win the compassion of those on whom they possessed other and stronger claims. I longed too to hear the accents of my fatherland, to breathe once more my natal air; for, alas! the country of my adoption had proved but a harsh step-mother. Since I had left my native land, my fot had been one of mortification and misery; and the remembrance of home-even of the unendear love, and I formed at length the desperate resolu tion of obeying my uncle's commands. "It was a heavy morning that which I had fixed for the execution of my project, and my mind was fevered by a night of sleepless horror. I had sat up to render the rags of my poor babes as little revolting as possible to those unto whose mercy 1 was about to commit their destiny; and when daylight came I roused them gently and tenderly from their calm slumbers. I dared not look upon their sweet faces as I dressed them for the last time; and when I imprinted a burning kiss upon the glossy curls of their little heads, I felt that the Almighty was dealing with me more heavily than I might bear! 666 Perhaps despair had already numbed my heart into endurance, for I gathered courage to tell them that their troubles were over;-that they were henceforward to dwell in a fine house-with sweet food-with soft rest to restore them; and that they must learn to reverence the noble hand from which they derived such gifts, and try to forget-but no-no—no ! I could not for worlds have told them to forget me;-and had I done so, the request would have been unavailing. They clung to me-they wept and implored, and finally prevailed. No! I could not part from them that day!" "I repeat Cecilia's words as nearly as I can remember them," said the nun, after a painful pause; "but I cannot give the expression of a mother's voice to my narration ;-I remember that hers reached my inmost heart." "And did she at last gather strength to part with the poor babes ?" I anxiously inquired. "My first object was to seek a furtive interview with my children. I was well aware that the greatest caution would be necessary for the accomplishment of my end; and for some days I contented myself with watching, at dusk, under the windows of my uncle's palace. I thought that among the shadows of its inmates, revealed by the lights within, I might perhaps distinguish those of my children. I was aware that they inhabited the same chamber which had been mine in childhood; and I have stood on the bastions beneath it, through rain-through snow-through piercing frost-in the expectation of catching the joyous echoes of their young voices; at length I took courage one morning to watch their coming out for their daily drive. 66 "I thought I had sufficiently disguised my altered person; and with trembling limbs I slowly paced along the street, when the gorgeous carriage bearing the arms of my family rolled out of the court of the palace, and passed close beside me. I could not refrain from looking up-and in a moment I saw the fair face of my youngest bornglowing with health-radiant with happiness: but the smile of her sweet eyes fell upon her mother "The separation was effected by an unpremed-without recognition-she had forgotten me! itated meeting with her uncle," continued Sister "Could I bear this! I fell senseless upon the Agatha. "They were at the moment almost ex-pavement; and the menials of the carriage, which piring with hunger; and the fine equipages and wounded me as it passed, recognized in the poor dainties proffered by the prince, induced the little wretch they humanely ran to raise from the earth, innocents to consent to what was at first announced a rejected daughter of their master's house! as a separation of a few days from their heart- "This public exposure, irritated-and perhaps broken mother. Young as they were, they did justly-the feelings of the prince. He wrote me not notice how frequently the visit was prolonged; a letter filled with a torrent of invective-upbraidand after repeated disappointments of returning ing me with ingratitude, and threatening me to home, their restlessness was at length changed into withdraw his protection from my children, if herecontentment. They were kindly used; and, like after I sought, directly or indirectly, to come into all children, they learned in time to forget the their presence. He reminded me of the dangers absent. The mother who had been so missed and that would await them in case of my death, under so lamented-for whom they had hoarded their such a desertion. He painted in strong and appalluxuries, and renounced their infantine enjoyments, ling terms, the perils which poverty and desolation was soon rarely mentioned and finally-forgot- might entail at some future time upon my daughter. But he might have spared his eloquence;the blow was already struck-the bruised reed bowed unto the dust-and death was about to release the wanderer from her sufferings, and himself from my further intrusion.' ten. "In the mean time poor Cecilia, who had accepted a limited pension from the prince, and had fulfilled the necessary condition of quitting the Austrian territories, was for a time reconciled to her miserable destiny by the certainty that her children were rescued from the sufferings and dangers of privation. In the grievous loneliness of my existence,' said she, 'I had the consolation of knowing that my treasures no longer fixed the eager eyes of starvation upon the morsel I was unable to purchase to appease their famine. I was supported during the day by a sort of feverish excitation which led me to wish for the return of night, that I might lose in sleep my sense of sorrow but when the night came, and I missed from my side the little beings who had slumbered there from infancy-I could not rest! And thus longing by day for the night-by night for the return of day-long weeks, long months passed over my miserable head. Nothing but my flattering trust that my son's accession of fortune would one day or other enable me to clasp in my arms the precious creatures for whose well-being I had forfeited my own happiness-enabled me to support existence-and even that hope could not long suffice to smooth the path of self-denial. My mind, fixed with constant and dreadful intensity upon the absent objects of its affections, became enfeebled; my courage relaxed with my judgment-the yearning of my heart grew too strong for mastery-and in a moment of frenzy, I returned to Vienna! "It was precisely at this period," resumed the nun in a more cheerful tone, "that the destitute condition of our poor Cecilia drew towards her the attention of the Holy Father Director of our order In visiting a sick parishioner, he learned that a young person of interesting appearance was dying in a small attic in the house; to the proprietor of which she was a total stranger. He did not, as you may suppose, hesitate to visit the bedside of the desolate sufferer, whom he found sinking under a slow fever, destitute of the common means of support, and oppressed by all the terrors of mental despair. Within a few hours Cecilia was removed at his suggestion into our hospital; and few were ever sheltered within its walls unto whom its comforts were more vitally necessary. It was my own turn of duty the night of her admission," said the nun, "and her youth and beauty exerted, in the first instance, a blamable influence over my feelings. Other motives of compassion speedily declared themselves. I found that my lovely patient's disorder originated in the exhaustion arising from a long endurance of cold and hunger. She had fasted for many days together during an inclement winter, in order to increase the scanty meals of her children; and during the first night that I watched by her side, I heard the names of those beloved children, murmured again and again by her parched | one morning to enter a bookseller's shop in search lips, as though their very sound were a watchword of books of instruction for children, written in the of salvation!" "And was her case hopeless, even at the time of her admission ? "The cares lavished upon her failed not to procure a transient revival. In a few days Cecilia recovered her consciousness; and her gratitude for my attention in removing her from the painful position which chance had assigned her in the ward, opened her heart towards me, more than towards her other attendants. It appeared as if her feelings were relieved by confiding to me the history of her afflicted life." "But surely, surely something might still be done to save her," said I, interrupting the good sister; "surely a malady resulting from temporary privation cannot affect the powers of life." "We are not reckoned unskilful, even by the faculty of Vienna," answered Sister Agatha, with an air of professional dignity. "The influence of the mind is all-powerful over the body, and we know that few diseases are more important than those arising out of moral causes. You must remember, too, that Cecilia's frame was weakened by want and toil during three entire years-that its powers have been exhausted by prolonged fasts and prolonged vigils; nothing now can save her." "But you will apply, without doubt, to her family to her cruel, selfish uncle. Surely you will attempt to bless her dying eyes with the sight of those beloved objects to whom she hath sacrificed her existence?" "Impossible!" replied the nun with provoking calmness. "The prince is one of the most powerful and liberal benefactors of our convent. Were the reverend mother-to whom, however, I have not thought it expedient to apply on the subjectwere the reverend mother to provoke his highness' displeasure by such an appeal, she would be injuring the cause of the poor, and bereaving the many in order to gratify the worldly passions of a single heart. To the suffering multitude we owe an account of our ministry; and their wants and claims, alas! will long survive the sorrows of poor Cecilia." "At least permit me, who as a stranger can incur no risk, to make immediate application to the prince. His name-his name-I entreat you do not let this victim of maternal love die unrewarded." "You are an enthusiast," replied the nun with a gentle smile, "and forgot that the slightest motion will extinguish the flame of an expiring lamp; one moment of agitation would destroy Cecilia. Besides, although a heretic, you must be sensible that the consolations of religion alone become the bed of death. It would be cruel to rekindle earthly affections in a heart where the hopes of faith should alone prevail. But I must not loiter here," continued Sister Agatha, respectfully kissing my hand. "Farewell, sister! farewell; may your journey prosper! and when you return to your own remote country, remember that the sick and the poor are comforted by the lowly order of St. Elizabeth, through the love of God!'" The day following my memorable visit to the convent of the Elisabethinarinnen, I departed, not under the influence of Sister Agatha's benediction, "to my own remote country," but on a tour through Hungary, which occupied some months. Previous to leaving the city of Pesth, the principal residence of the Hungarian nobility, I chanced national language. The master of the shop, in reply to my inquiries, observed that he could supply me with the newest and best as soon as the Countess Woleska had finished her selection. I looked towards the lady referred to, and saw a slight figure in deep mourning, accompanied by two children-an elegant little girl, and a noble boy about six years of age. The bookseller whispered that he was the young Fürst Reussdorf; and at the same moment the countess turning round to desire her little girl would offer the books to the English lady, discovered to me a face—no! I could not be mistaken!— a face which I had seen but once, to remember forever; and which I had for months past believed to be shrouded in the damps of death-that, in short, of Sister Agatha's heroine. Even as it was, it was totally colorless; and as I was in the very land of Vampirism, I literally shuddered as I fixed my wondering gaze upon the countess, and could not recover my voice to thank the lovely__child from whose hand I received the books. I concluded my bargain as precipitately as I could; and walked out into the street, without well knowing what I was about, or where I was going. My first anxiety on returning home was to question our German courier respecting the family of Reussdorf, and the Countess Woleska; but I received only those vague and tormenting replies which one is sure to extract from such a source. "The Woleskas," he said, "were a very noble race-very powerful-very wealthy; settled in several provinces of the empire, one branch in Hungary-one in Styria” "But the countess ?" "The countess!-the young one or the old? The Countess Dowager of Woleska is of the Schwarzenwäldchenwesterhofische family-a lady of the highest descent and "No-no-the young countess." "The young countess? There are several, gnädige Frau; the Countess Wenzl, the Countess Rudolf, the Countess Moritz," &c. &c. Finding it impossible to come to the point, I resolved to wait for the evening's opera, when I felt sure of learning the gossip of the city from some of the visitors to our box. "Ah! you have seen the young Countess Woleska," was the ready answer to my inquiries. "A charming woman, although rather passée, but still a very interesting ruin." "Can you inform me whether she has been long resident in Hungary?" Scarcely a month-can it be possible that you have not heard her history? a very eventful one, if the on dits are accurate. Her little son came suddenly into possession of the principality of Reussdorf, by the death of a relation in whose house he was educated; but the countess, having formed a connexion early in life with a French adventurer, a Bonapartist, which of course had obliged her family to cast her off, was at the time of his unexpected succession, concealed in some obscure retreat, some say a prison, some a madhouse, and was brought forward, to the amazement of all Vienna, by the family confessor; some meddling Capuchin, who had never lost sight of her. She was in a most precarious state of health, and was not at first expected to survive her change of fortunes." "And what has brought her hither?" "She remains at Pesth while the family castle | never been confined either in a prison or a madin Esclavonia is fitting for her reception-for she house. has resolved to educate her son upon his patrimony, till he is old enough to commence his studies at the National University. We know nothing of the countess but from report; for she has declined entering into the society of the city, and has had the maladresse to refuse an invitation from the palatine himself, on the grounds of ill health and recent affliction. Entre nous, I rather imagine that the fair lady is conscious her long seclusion from society has rendered her somewhat unfit to move in the circle to which her descent admits her." "You are acquainted with her then, and have been betraying me into relating anecdotes of your friend. This is not fair, but it affords me at least the pleasure of assuring the countess' enemies that her intimate acquaintance has vindicated"Permit me to assure you that I never interchanged a syllable with the Countess Woleska; but I again repeat, on the authority of those best informed, that there never existed a brighter example of the first virtue of womanhood-motherly affection." It was not for a stranger like myself to contro- I never saw this interesting woman again; but vert this opinion, or to assure my self-important I was satisfied to leave her in the possession of friend that not even the Countess Téléki, the Lady every earthly blessing; and to know that a life Jersey of Pesth, might vie with the young Count-of suffering and resignation had been repaid by ess Woleska, in a gentle, graceful timidity of ad- moments of joy such as can have rarely fallen to dress, which cannot become either out of date, or mortal lot. May they be long and frequently redéplacé; I ventured, however, to assert that she had newed! PASSING UNDER THE ROD. "IT was the custom of the Jews to select the tenth of their sheep after this manner. The lambs were separated from the dams, and enclosed in a sheep-cote, with only one narrow way out; the dams were at the entrance. On opening the gate, the lambs hastened to join the dams, and a man placed at the entrance, with a rod dipped in ochre, touched every tenth lamb, and so marked it with his rod, saying 'LET THIS BE HOLY.' Hence says God by his prophet, I will cause you to pass under the rod.'" I saw the young bride in her beauty and pride And the bright flush of joy mantled high on her cheek, And the future looked blooming and gay, And with woman's devotion she laid her fond heart At the shrine of idolatrous love, And she anchored her hopes to this perishing earth, By the chain which her tenderness wove. But I saw when those heart-strings were bleeding and torn, And the chain had been severed in two, She had changed her white robes for the sables of grief, And her bloom to the paleness of woe; Yet the Healer was there, pouring balm on her heart, And wiping the tears from her eyes, And he strengthened the chain he had broken in twain, And fastened it firm to the skies. There had whispered a voice-'t was the voice of her God, "I love thee, I love thee !—pass under the rod!" I saw the young mother in tenderness bend But paler and colder her beautiful boy, And the tale of her sorrow was told. Yet the Healer was there, who had smitten her heart, And taken her treasure away; To allure her to heaven he has placed it on high, And the mourner will sweetly obey! There had whispered a voice-'t was the voice of her God, "I love thee, I love thee !—pass under the rod!” I saw when a father and mother had leaned And the whispers of fancy were sweet; But I saw when they stood bending low o'er the grave, Where their hearts' dearest hope had been laid, And the star had gone down in the darkness of night, And Joy from their bosoms had fled. Yet the Healer was there, and his arms were around, And he led them with tenderest care, And he showed them a star in the bright upper world 'Twas their star shining brilliantly there! They had each heard a voice-'t was the voice of their God, "I love thee, I love thee!-pass under the rod!" MRS. M. S. B. DANA. AFFECTION OF DOGS.-Dogs have been known to die from excess of joy at seeing their masters after a long absence. An English officer had a large dog, which he left with his family in England, while he accompanied an expedition to Amer And she kissed the soft lips as he murmured her ica, during the war of the colonies. All the time of his absence the animal appeared very much dejected. When the officer returned home, the dog, who happened to be lying at the door of an apartment into which his master was about to enter, immediately recognized him, leaped upon his neck, licked his face, and in a few minutes fell dead at his feet. A favorite spaniel of a lady recently died on seeing his beloved mistress after a long absence-Jessie's Anecdotes. |