least possible attachment was subsisting between them, he would never receive him into his house again. Isabella had an aunt residing in S., who was sister to her own mother; to this aunt she often wrote, and never failed to mention a gentleman at college. She wished her aunt to be very polite to him, as he was worthy of any attention. Accordingly, Mis. Neville became acquainted with Mr. Grey, and wrote to her niece, that he exceeded her most sanguine expectations. Isabella returned rather late from a walk one evening, and was much surprised to find Mr. Eastburn in the parlor. Her father, when they were alone, told her he had arranged affairs with Mr. Fastburn, and that she must appoint the time for their marriage. She was much distressed at this, and begged him, if he desired her happiness, never to mention his name again. He told her that she was an inconsiderate girl, and if she did not at the end of a week, comply with his wishes, he should send her to some of her friends in Rhode Island, and have her kept in her father. It was a lovely evening that Isabella Beaumont bade adieu to her youthful home. This world seemed a blank—all was sad—nothing gave her delight, save one, he was the idol of her affections. At twelve that night, John had the carriage ready. She saw her baggage placed in the carriage and walked down to the street.When she came to the gate, she took a parting look of her home. All there was silent. She leaned against the railing and wept: the image of her own dear mother rose before her imagination, "Oh! my sainted mother," exclaimed Isabella, "are you sensible of the unhappiness of your child." He was ilus: and in the evening he called. delighted to see her, but he did not know the manner of her leaving home. When they were alone she told him what had passed since she had seen him, and how suddenly she ca me from home. Theophilus was astonished. "How could you leave your father thus? Why retain your hopeless attachment for me?" Isabella told him she was too rash. "But what could I do," said she, “could you wish me to marry Mr. Eastburn?" She waited long for Theophilus to reply, but he turned the subject, and soon took his leave. She soon wrote to her father, telling him where she was, and received for an answer that he wished to see her, and would be in S. in the course of a week; When he came, appeared as though nothing had happened, and asked her if she would return with him, and she thought best to go. he Col. Beaumont did not forget his young protege, but went to see him. Theophilus supposing he knew the feelings of his daughter, told him not to feel any differently towards him, for he had always told Isabella he never should think of her, without her father's consent. Col. Beaumont was surprised at this arowal; and for the first time suspected the fact. He told Theophilus he had acted discreetly, and wished him not to see his daughter again. The next day Col. B. and his daughter took leave of Mrs. Neville, and soon arrived at the home Isabella had so lately quitted, she knew not but forever. She was received by her mother with seeming affection, and by the servants with respect. Nothing transpired for some time, of any importance. Her father was all kindness, hoping to win her to obedience. Mr. Eastburn paid them a visit; she received him as a common acquaintance. He urged his suit, but she told him if he had the least respect for her, he would never mention the subject again. Things passed on until spring, and soon it would be vacation. But before that time Theophilus was taken ill, and his symptoms John alarmed at his mistress' long absence being so alarming, he was brought home.came for her. She hastened to the carriage His parents were surprised to see him; but I will not attempt to detail the particulars of and was soon at the place where the stage usually stopped. She rewarded John, and bade such a meeting, where joy, and sorrow, were him say nothing of her. In half an hour she so completely blended; still he was alive! was seated in the stage, and in due time arri-had come home, and might yet live to comfort and cherish their old age. ved at the residence of Mrs. Neville.. The next day she sent her card to Theoph Isabella when she heard of his arrival and illness, was much distressed, but feared to ask her father to see him. Theophilus was not aware of his danger; but the consumption-how flattering the disPase? it was even then preying upon his vitals. His physicians pronounced his case an hopeless one; but it was a painful task to tell Theophluis. His father asked him if he felt any desire to live. "I can acquiesce to the will of God, altho' life is sweet," said he, "but I feel myself prepared to die." vice was solemn; and never did I hear the funeral service, that sublime ceremony, more touching. I had lately stood by the grave of a dear brother, and that rendered the scene more striking. I approached the grave: on the coffin was inscribed the name and age of the deceased. "THEOPHILUS GREY, AGED 22." Preparations were made to place the body in the earth. There was not that bustling stir which breaks so harshly upon the feelings of grief. The bereaved parents returned to This was comfort to his pious father, for he to their lonely home to mourn in secret. felt that he must part with his son. There is something in sickness that breaks down the pride of manhood, and softens the heart. Who that has languished in sickness und despondency, upon a weary bed, but has thought of the mother that looked on his childhood," that smoothed his pillow, and ad'ministered to his wants. Oh there is an endearing tenderness in the love of a mother to a child, that transcends all other affections of the heart. It is not to be chilled by selfishness. She will glory in his fame, and exult in his prosperity. Isabella after the death af Theophilus, was never seen to smile, and like "Rachael, refused to be comforted, because he was not." She caused a monument to be erected to his memory. A few years after i passed through the vil lage of C-. I enquired for some of my old friends, and was told that Isabella Beaumont had quietly breathed her last, and had gone to rejoin those she loved, in that world wherc sorrow is never known, and friends are never parted. J. Pittsfield, 1833. A PEDAGOGUE'S PUN.—A youth attending school having been smitten with a pretty face, Theophilus was sensible of the privilege of having his mother for a nurse. She would sit for hours by him, watching him as he slept. Soon after, Col. Beaumont being absent, Isa-consulted his preceptor whether he would advise him to conjugate? "No," replied the pebella ventured to see him. When she enterdagogue, "I should say by all means, decline." ed he was asleep. When he awoke he knew her. A faint smile illumined his countenance. As he took her hand, he told her he should soon leave this world of pain, and be with his Saviour." “But now, Isabella, I may confess my attachment to you." Observing that she wept,-he said, "dearest Isabella do not weep, for it is a happy exchange." She could stay no longer, but returned home. The next morn an old woman came and told her he had died that night. "Oh, he was such a comely creature; so sweet tempered, so kind to all around him, that all loved him," said she. Isabella could hear no more: she shed not a tear; it would have been a comfort to have wept. The next day was the funeral. She went before the time, to take one last sad look of all that was dear to her, and then returned home. witnessed the scene. While I was meditating, the toll of the bell announced the approach of the funeral. A plain coffin was borne by some of the villagers,-next came the aged parents of the deceased. There were no mock mourners in the trappings of affected woe-but all were real mourners. The ser Agents for the Magnolia. NEW-YORK. A. F. Miller, Gallatin. Alexander F. Wheeler, Chatham 4 Corners. D. D. Newberry, Syracuse. MASSACHUSETTS. KHODE-ISLAND. S.JS. Smith, Burlington. VOL. I. OR, LITERARY TABLET. Published Semi-Monthly, at One Dollar Per Annum, in Advance. HUDSON, JANUARY 11, 1834. THE LETTRE-DE-CACHET. BY J. S. KNOWLES. "It must come down!" exclaimed Julian; -"Frenchmen will no longer endure it. It is enough to have one's life and liberty at the disposal of bad laws, without holding them at the caprice of a nobleman or a king! What's a man's life worth without security of person and property? I may possess health, I may possess honesty, I may be blessed with wife and children, my affairs may thrive, I may have friends on every side of me; and yet may end my days in a dungeon, if I happen to displease a man in power-it must come down!" "What must come . down?" demanded Monsieur le Croix, suddenly entering the apartment," what must come down?" repeated he in a more authoritative tone. "The Bastile," replied Julian, calmly raising his eyes, which at first had dropped, and fixing them steadily,but respectfully upon his master. There was a pause. "Julian," at length said Monsieur le Croix, "I have heard of this before. Do you know that you are talking treason?” "Yes," replied Julian, rather doggedly, "but I also know that I am talking reason and justice." "That is, as you conceive," rejoined Monsieur le Croix. He took a turn or two across the apartment. "Julian," resumed he, " you are a dissatisfied man, and there are too many such in France. You are a dangerous man, too; for you read, and talk of what you read, and unsettle the opinions of those who know less than you do; you are tainted with a feeling of jealously and rancour, with which Frenchmen unhappily begin to regard the established and venerable institutions of the country. How came it that you treated with insolence, to day, the valet of Monsieur le Comte de St. Ange?" "Because he treated me with insolence," answered Julian-" he called me to hold his horse while he alighted, as though I had been his master's groom!" "Was it not rather because his master was a nobleman?" sternly interrogated Monsieur le Croix. "You have been insolent to the Count, too," resumed he. "He threatened to apply his whip to my shoulders," said Julian, "and I told him he had better reserve it for his horse." "And had he put his threat into execution, what would you have done?" Julian was silent. "Answer me, sir," cried his master. Julian folded his arms and still made no reply. "Am I to be answered?" coolly demanded Monsieur le Croix. "I see the future traitor No. 8. "I command you to answer me !" impatiently exclaimed the former. "What would you have done, had the Count struck you?" "Struck him again!" indignantly vociferated Julian, "though my hand had been cut off the very next moment." "So the Count thought," said Monsieur le Croix, resuming his coolness. "I saw it," said Julian. "How?" inquired his master. "He changed color," said Julian," and he changed his mind too; for he applied the whip to the shoulders of his valet instead of mine, and walked into the chateau." "And you think the Count was afraid of you?" said Monsieur le Croix. "The count afraid of you! Do you know the power of a count?" "I do,” replied Julian; "and the character of the Count, He is not fit to be admitted into an honest man's family." "How?" "This minute!" exclaimed Julian, walking coolly to the other side of the apartment, and taking his hat from a peg on which it had been hung. "Good bye sir," said he--but he stopped as he was going out of the door, and turning stood and fixed his eyes full upon Monsieur le Croix : "I have been a faithful servant to you," resumed Julian. Monsieur le Croix made no reply, 66 Not a word from Monsieur le Croix. "I always shall love you," cried Julian, and turned to go. 66 Stay," said his master, "you have lived with me eight years. You have been a faithful servant to me-up to this moment. But you are a dangerous subject. You have begun to think for yourself to question the rights of your betters-to make light of the distance which stands between them and you. Because a nobleman happens to lose his temper, you put yourself upon an equal footing with him-you give him word for word, and would give him blow for blow-and in your master's house!" Monsieur le Croix took a purse from his pocket: "I settled with you this morni ig," continued he, "and though we had commenced another year; that's out of the question now. Here, Julian, there are eight louis d'ors in this purse, take them for your fidelity. Better to reward it now, and stop; than go on, and have reason to reproach it." Julian mechanically took the purse, but still kept extended the hand which he had reached to receive it, looking his master all the while in the face. "You think, if I continue to serve you," said Julian," that I might prove unfaithful to you?" "Your principles are undermined in other matters," remarked Monsieur le Croix. “And you think they could be undermined with respect to you?" "When a part of a foundation gives way," observed Monsieur le Croix, "there is danger of the whole." "And your confidence in my fidelity is shaken!" "It is," said Monsieur le Croix. Julian, whose color had been gradually mounting as he spoke, stood silent for half a minute, without once withdrawing his eyes from his master's face. At length he broke silence: "It is," echoed he. “It is,” calmly repeated Monsieur le Croix. "Then perish your gold!" exclaimed Julian, dashing the purse on the ground, and rushing from the apartment. He entered his Adelaide's boudoir one day when she was so deeply absorbed that she did not perceive him. She was seated at a table with her back towards him, and she held in her hand something which she alternately gazed upon and presssed to her lips. Unconscious of the act of treachery which he was committing, he advanced on tip-toe a step or two-twas a miniature!-a step or two nearer -'Twas his own!-He could not suppress his emotions, he clasped his hands in an ecstacy of transport. She started up; and turning, shrieked at beholding him. He extended his arms, and she threw herself into them. In a month she became Madame le Croix. A son, their only issue, blessed their union. He was now nearly nine years old, a promising boy, whose sole instructors were, hitherto, his father and mother-as by preference, as well as full contentment in each other's society, they always resided in the country; receiving occa sionally the visits of their Paris friends, among whom were reckoned Monsieur le Comte de St. Ange. Monsieur le Croix felt too much discomposed to rejoin immediately his wife and the Count. He turned into his study-"Julian is ruined!" exclaimed he too himself, "I am sorry for him; but there is no help for it.The moment one of his order begins to dispute, or even to examine the claims of those above him to his respect, he is fit for nothing but mischief, and sooner or later will think of nothing else. Not hesitate to strike the Count!" "Papa!" cried little Eugene, running into the room, "you are wanted." "Who wants me?" inquired Monsieur le Croix. My mother." "Did she send you for me?" 66 Why did you come then, and what do you mean?" "She threatened the Count to call you." Monsieur le Croix started from the chair into which, upon entering the room, he had thrown himself and stared upon his son. "Threatened the Count-Why sir?" said Monsieur le Croix, lowering his voice. "Indeed I don't know," replied the child, but the Count was whispering something to her, and she told him she would call for you; and as I thought she looked angry, I came of my own accord to tell you." Monsieur le Croix was an advocate for the old régime. He believed that, like the sun, it fitted the world now, as well as in the beginning-never taking into consideration the difference between the Creator of the one, and the framer of the other He was at the same time a disinterested, conscientious, generous, and honorable man. He was handsome too, and of a graceful, commanding figure, though now in the fiftieth year. He was married,and, strange to say, the object of a still ardent and devoted attachment to a wife, who was nearly twenty years younger than himself. Women are capable of such love. He had entered his fortieth year when his Adelaide had completed her one and twentieth. From particular causes they were frequently thrown into one another's society, and the more intimate they became, the more coldly did Adelaide look upon many a youthful admirer who was a suitor for her hand. This was attribu- "Remain here sir," said Monsieur le Croix, ted to absorption in the prosecution of various and left the study-in the act of shutting the studies to which Monsieur le Croix had direct-door of which behind him, he heard a shriek ed her attention; until the increasing pensiveness of the fair one, too plainly indicated an occupation of the heart, far more active and intense than any of the mind could be. Monsieur le Croix was interested. He soon detected in himself symptoms of the first genuine passion he had ever felt; but not before he was too much fascinated to struggle successfully with wishes, which from disparity of years he at once concluded must be hopeless. Little did he dream of his good fortune; it came upon him like the arrival of a rich inheritance, to one who had lived in penury, and always thought to die so. which was immediately followed by the opening of the drawing room door. As he was rushing up stairs, he heard a scuffling in the room, and presently a noise, as of a person violently thrown to the ground. Frantic with conjecture, alarm, and indignation, he rushed in, his hands upon his sword. The Count was stretched upon the floor, Julian was standing over him with rage and triumph painted in his looks; and on a chair reclined Madame le Croix, half swooning, “Rise, villain, and defend yourself! viciforated Monsieur le Croix; but the Count was either unable to rise, or pretended to be "His life shall answer for it!" exclaimed Monsieur le Croix, pacing the room after his wife, who upon being left alone with him, had acquainted him with the insult which the Count had offered to her. "He has been punished sufficiently," said Madame le Croix," thanks to the brave and faithful Julian." "Where is Julian?" exclaimed her husband. The bell was rung and answered -Julian was on his way to Paris. He had gone by the diligence, which at this hour every evening regularly passes the gate of the chateau. "A lovely sunset!" exclaimed Madame le Croix, sitting beside her husband, at a window which looked to the west, her head reclining upon his breast, and her little boy the other side of him-" A lovely sunset!" "Yes," replied he, "though its beauty is waning fast. The moon, however, will soon be up. Come, throw on your shawl, and let us take a stroll in the grounds." Madame le Croix caught her husband's hand as she rose, and looked up anxiously in his face. "You are afraid of the stranger, whom, for the last three nights they have observed about the ground," said Monsieur le Croix, "What harm have we to apprehend from him?" "What brings him here, and at night?" "What mischief can he do, and alone?" "He may have associates who are at hand," said Madame le Croix, after a pause. "Did you not part in anger with Julian?" added she. "Do you think 'tis Julian?" asked Monsieur le Croix. Julian could not meditate any injury to us," said Madame le Croix, musing. "Do you think it is he?" repeated her husband more earnestly. "Would you be uneasy if it was?" inquired his wife. "I should almost think so, from the tone in which you speak. "He has taken up with companions, I fear," said Monsieur le Croix, "who are not very scrupulous in the respect which they pay to the laws-some of those vile bands of republicans who have given rise to the recent ferments in Paris, and caused so much alarm to the court. Do you think it is he?" "Jacqueline thinks so," replied Madame, in a whisper. At that moment a heavy and hurried step was heard in the passage, the door was burst open, and Julian stood before them! Madame le Croix shrieked, her husband halfdrew his sword, and the little Eugene instinctively sprang forward. and clasped Julian round the knees. The man had been always particularly fond of the boy. "Conceal yourself, sir," cried Julian; "they are here!" "Conceal myself from the bandits of Paris?" ejaculated Le Croix ; "I'll perish first!" "From the executioners of the Bastile !" rejoined Julian. "What!" exclaimed Le Croix-Several steps were heard ascending the staircase. They are here!" cried Julian desponding; "for these three nights I have been expecting them, and hoped to have time to give you warning; but they have taken me by surprise, and you are lost!" The door which Julian had shut after him, was rudely opened, and a band of armed men entered the apartment. Madame le Croix threw her arms about her husband, while the little boy, quitting Julian ran back to his father and caught him by the hand. "Your business?" haughtily demanded le Croix; 66 "Your company," replied the leader, whose sword was drawn. Your authority?" 4 A Lettre-de- Cachet!" Imagine the conclusion of the scene.-That night Monsieur le Croix slept in the Bastile. * * a Monsieur le Croix stood at the gate of his chateau. How he regained his liberty he knew not, neither was he aware of the means by which he found himself there. He entered his grounds with a feeling of doubt that he was walking in them, and short as was the distance from the gate to the door of his mansion, he felt as if he should never traverse it. At length he arrived at the well known portal, and it opened to him, but there was strangeness in the countenance of the person who pronounced his summons, and let him in. He ascended the staircase, apprehending at every step that it would vanish from under him. On the landing-place he saw Eugene, but scarcely did his eyes light upon him ere the boy was gone! He opened the door of the drawingroom with an indiscribable sense of incertitude and alarm. His wife and the Count were there! They did not seem to perceive him, but to be wholly occupied with one another-how the heart of the husband beat! They spoke, but their words he heard not; he only saw what their looks discoursed -it was pleasure. The next moment swords were drawn, and he and the Count were engaged in mortal combat; but his thrusts were feeble and fell short; or if they reached his adversary, seemed to make no impression on him. At last he closed with the count-they struggled-Le Croix was thrown by his more youthful and powerful antagonist, whose sword was now pointed at the prostrate husband's throat. Twas a dream!Monsieur le Croix lay stretched and awake upon his pallet in the Bastile. He rose, He fancied it was morning-not a blink of day was admitted to announce to him the coming or the going of the sun. and after taking a turn or two of his dungeon, with the dimensions of which an accquaintance of now three weeks had made him familiar-he sat down upon the side of the bed, his frame still vibrating from the effects of his dream. He could have wept were it not for the presence of his own dignity. He started at the call of a sensation which warned him that the hour of his morning's repast had gone, He listened-not the whisper of a foot-step! To be starved to death in prison! Such a |