across its course; which differed from inspi- NEW-YORK SOCIETY, BY THE LAST ration in degree rather than in kind. The

ENGLISH TRAVELLER. resemblance of Dr. Hooker to these great au-1 THE Hon. Henry Cope has lately publishthors is obviously not an affectation. It is 1 ed in London a Ride across the Rocky not confined to style, but reaches to the con- | Mountains, to Californiaa book abounding stitution and tone of the mind. His produc- in striking adventure and description, and iltions indicate the same temper of deep thought-lustrating in its general tone the spirit of an fulness upon man's estate and destiny; the English gentleman. Its temper and good same union of a personal sympathy with a sense may be inferred from the following spejudicial superiority, which suffers in all the cimen, on the never-failing subject of Society human weaknesses which it detects and con- in New-York : demns; the same earnest sense of their sub- “Any observations I might be tempted to jects as realities, clear, present and palpable: / make on New-York, or even, I am inclined to the same quick feeling, toned into dignity by

think, on any of the civilized parts of the states, pervading, essential wisdom; and that direct

would probably be neither novel nor interesting. cognizance of the substances of religion, which

I am not ambitious of circulating more · Amer

ican notes,' nor do I care to follow in the footdoes not deduce its great moral truths as con

steps of Mrs. Trollope. Enough has been sequences of an assumed theory, but seizes

written to illustrate the singularities of secondthem as primary elements that verify them

rate American society. Good society is the same selves and draw the theories after them by a all over the world. General remarks I hold to natural connection. Fretted and wearied be fair play. But to indulge in personalities is a with metaphysical theologies; vexed by the poor return for hospitality, and those Americans self-illustration, the want of candor, the fierce-who are most willing to be civil to foreigners, reness, the ungenial and unsatisfying hollowness ceive little enough encouragement to extend that of popular religionism, we turn with a grate- civility, when, as is too often the case, those very ful relief to this soothing and impressive sys- foreigners afterwards attempt to amuse their tem which speculates not, wrangles not, re- friends on one side of the Atlantic, at the expense viles not, but, while it every where testifies

of a breach of good faith to their friends on the of the degradation we are under, touches our

other. Every one has his prejudices : I freely spirits to power and purity by the constant

confess I have mine. I like London better than exhortation of "sursem corda?"

"New-York, but it does not, therefore, follow that The style of Dr. Hooker abounds in spon

| I dislike New-York, or Americans either. I have

a great respect for almost every thing American taneous interest and unexpected graces. It"

1 -I do not mean to say that I have any affection seems to result immediately from his charac- for a thorough bred Yankee, in our acceptation ter, and to be an inseparable part of it. It of the term, far from it, I think him the most is free from all the commonplaces of fine writ- offensive of all bipeds in the known world. ing; has nothing of the formal contrivance Yankee snobs too I hate-such as infest Broadof the rhetorician, the balanced period, the way, for instance, genuine specimens of the genus, pointed turn, the recurring cadence. Yet the according to the highest authorities. The worst charms of a genuine simplicity, of a direct of New-York is its superabundance of snobbism. ness almost quaint, of primitive gravity, and The snob here is a snob“ sui generis," quite becalm, native good sense, renders it singularly yond the capacities of the old world. There is agreeable to a cultivated taste. Undoubted- no mistaking him. He is cut out after the most ly there is in spiritual sensibility something approved pattern. If he differs from the original, akin to genius, and like it tending to utter

who or whatever that might have been, it must

wifi be in a surpassing excellence of snobbism which We ineet at times in Dr. Hooker's writings To

w does credit to the progressive order of things.

itings Tuft-hunting is a sport he pursues with delight with phrases of the rarest felicity and of great to himself, but without remorse or pity for his delicacy and expressiveness ; in which we l victim. It is necessary for the object of bis perknow not whether most to admire the vigor secutions to be constantly on the alert. He is which has conceived so striking a thought, or frequently seen prowling about in white kid the refinement of art which has fixed it in gloves, patent leather boots, and Parisian hat. words so beautifully exact.

Whenever this is the case, he must be considered

dangerous and bloody-minded, for in all probabiSUNSET.

lity he is meditating a call. Often he has been WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE known to run his prey to ground in the Opera or BY R. 8. CHILTON.

other public places, and there to worry them SEE with what pomp the golden sun goes down

within less than an inch of their good temper. Behind yon purple mountain 1-far and wide

Offensive as he is, generally speaking, he some. His mellow radiance streams; the steep hill-side

times acts on the defensive; for, not very well Is clothed with splendor, and the distant town Wears his last glory like & blazing crown.

convinced of his own infallibility, he is particuWe cannot see bim now, and yet his fire

larly susceptible of affronts, to which his assumed Still lingers on the city's tallest spire.--

consequence not upfrequently makes him liable. Chased slowly upward by the gathering frown Of the approaching darkness. God of light!

| Baits are often proffered by these swell-catchers Thou leavest us in gloom--but other eyes

to lure the unwary. Such as an introduction to Watch thy faint coming now in distant skies:

the nymphs of the corps de ballet; the entré to There drooping flowers spring up, and streams grow bright, And singing birds plume their moist wings for flight,

ght, all the theatres private gambling-houses, &c., &c. And stars grow pale and vanish from the sight!

| But beware of such seductions."


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| very pale face, and having the appearance of WRITTEX FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE. one struggling with some wearing sorrow, BY RICHARD B. KIMBALL.

who for two weeks in succession came in A MORNING at Morgue is hardly as daily, and walking painfully up to the parti11 agreeable as a day at the Louvre, yet it tion, looked intently through the lattice work, is not without a certain fascination. Let but and turned and went away. I never before the influence once fasten on you, and it will felt so strong an impulse to „ccost a person, be very hard to shake it off. At one period without yielding to it. Indeed I had resolved I confess it was to me almost irresistible, and to speak to her on the morning of the fifteenth I shudder sometimes when I recollect how day, but she did not come and I never saw panctually every morning at the same hour I her again. Who was she? did her fears prove took my place on one side of that fearful groundless? what became of her an old room—not for the purpose of inspecting the man I remember to have seen—a very old bodies of the suicides (I rarely turned to man, feeble and decrepit, who came once look at them), but to regard the counte- only, looked at the dead, shook his head depances of the anxious ones who came to re- spairingly, and tottered away: I know not if alize the worst, or to take hope till the mor- he discovered the object of his search. Young row. Literally there are no spectators in that girls who had quarrelled with their lovers, dismal solitude-if we except an occasional and lovers who in moments of jealousy bad visit from the foreign sight-hunter, who comes been cruel to their sweethearts, would look in charge of a valet, and passes in and out anxiously in, and generally with relieved spirits and away to the “next place.” In London or in pass out, almost smilingly, resolving no doubt New-York, an establishment so public would to make all up before night should again tempt be thronged with persons eager to gratify a pru- to suicide. Another incident I cannot omit. rient curiosity. Not so in Paris. The French although it is impossible to recall it without a possess a sensibility so refined it may be called dreadful pang. One morning a pretty faira species of delicacy—that they cannot enjoy haired child, not more than four years old, such a spectacle, can scarcely endure it: and if came running in, and clasping the wooden bar the tourist will bring the subject to mind, he with one hand, pointed with her little finger will recollect that while his guide pointed out through the opening, and with a tone of inthe entrance, he himself declined going into nocent curiosity said, “There's mamma!” The the apartment.

same moment two or three rusbed in, and I know not how it happened, but, as I have seizing the unconscious orphan, carried her remarked, the habit of visiting this spot every hastily away. She had wandered after some morning, was fastened on me. Never shall I of the family, and heard enough as they caine forget some of the faces I encountered there. from the fatal place to lead her to supposo One image is impressed on me indelibly; it her lost mamma was there, and so she ran to is that of a woman of iniddle age, with a see. What could be the circumstances so un

toward, that even the child could not bind listening to them, my friend seized my arm the mother to life?

and exclaimed in a whisper, Look!" I cast A long chapter might be written of the oc- my eyes across to the other side, and becurrences at my singular rendezvous, but I held a figure advancing slowly toward us. had no design, when I began, of alluding to It was that of a young girl, in appearance them, and I will only remark here that, leav- scarcely seventeen. Her form was light and ing Paris some time after for the south of graceful, simply draped in a loose robe of Europe, I got rid of this nightmare impulse, white muslin. On her head she wore a straw and although I returned the following season hat, in which were placed conspicuously a I never again entered La Morgue. ........bunch of fresh spring blossoms. The gloves

It was in the spring when I came back. and mantelet seemed to have been forgotten. The foliage was deep and green, and in the Her demeanor was one of gentleness and mod. Jardin des Plants, which was near my quar-esty. She cast her eyes around as if expecting ters, the various flowers and shrubs and trees to meet a companion, and then quietly sat filled the atmosphere with fragrance, and down'on a rude seat not very far from where tempted us to frequent strolls along its ave- we were. I remained for ten minutos panues.

tiantly waiting a demonstration of some "Come with me at six o'clock," said my kind, either from my companion or the strango friend Partridge, “and you shall see an ap- appearance near uş. But now I began to parition."

yield to the influence of the scene. The sun "Where?"

was declining, and cast a mellow and sadden"I will not tell you, till we are on the ing light over the various objects around. spot ?"

Gradually as I gazed on the motionless form of "I will go, but hope the rendezvous will be the maiden, I felt impressed with awe, which an agreeable one." Just then, I know not why, was heightened by the solemn manner of my I thought of La Morgue, and shuddered. friend, who appeared as much under the charm "The most agreeable in all Paris." as myself. At length I whispered to him,

This conversation took place in the Hospi-“For Heaven's sake tell me what does all this tal de Notre Dame de Pitie, just as we were mean?” A low “Hush," with an expressive finishing our morning occupation of following gesture to enforce quiet, was the only rethe celebrated Louis through the fever wards. sponse. I made no further attempt to interPartridge was my room-mate, and generally a rupt the silence, but sat spell-bound, always fellow traveller, but I had left him behind in looking at the figure, until I was positively my late tour, to devote himself more entirely afraid to take my eyes from it. Again the to his medical pursuits, while I, to my shame chimes began their peal for the completion be it spoken, began to tire of the lectures of of the last quarter. It was seven o'clock. ' Broussais, and the teachings of Majendie; The moment they ceased, the girl rose from and, even now that I had returned, was tempt her seat, glanced slowly, sadly, earnestly ed every day to slip across to the Rue Vi. around, pressed her hand across her eyes, and rienne, where were staying some fascinating proceeded in the path toward us. We both strangers, whose acquaintance I had made en stood up as she came near; my friend lifted route, and who had begun to engross me too his hat from his head in the most respectful much for any steady progress in my studies ; manner as the maiden passed, while she in at least so thought Partridge, who shook his return gazed vacantly on him, and walking head and said it would not do for a student slowly by, disappeared in the direction oppo. to cross the Seine-he ought to stay in his site that from which she came. We did not own quartier ; that I had had too much re- remain, but proceeded with a quickened pace creation as it was—I should forget the little to our lodgings. Arrived there, I asked for I knew, and as for the Rue Vivienne, and the an explanation of what we had witnessed. Boulevard des Italions, the Rue de la Paix, &c., "Do you remember," said Partridge, “Al.. I must break off all such associations or be fred Dervilly ?" read out of the community. I was glad, there-l “Perfectly well. He was your room-matefore, to appease my friend by consenting to after I left you last summer, and twenty times go with him-I knew not where-and see an | I have been on the point of inquiring for him, apparition.

| but something at each moment prevented. Accordingly a few minutes before six, we Where is he ?" started together on the strange adventure. “Dead." We passed down the street which leads to the "Dead! How, when {"' Jardin des Plants, and entering through the “Killed by the apparition yonder." main avenue, walked nearly its entire length, “Nonsense! Do not talk any more in ridwhen my companion turned into a narrow dles. Out with what you have to say about path, almost concealed by the foliage, which Dervilly and the apparition, as you call it, brought us into a small open space. Here he and this afternoon's adventure." motioned me to stop, and pointing to a rustic “ Bien, let us light the candles, fasten the bench we both sat down. At the same mo- doors, close the windows, and take a fresh ment, the chimes from a neighboring chapel cigar." pealed the hour of sis, and while I was still This was soon done, and accommodating:

VOL, V.-NO. IV.-29

himself to his seat in a comfortable manner, plexed him ; one thing filled him with vague my companion commenced :

fears and apprehensions, and checked the ec* Yes—you recollect Dervilly of course, and static feelings which were ready to overflow must remeinber that before you left us we bis heart. A mystery bung about this beauused to joke him about a fair unknown, who tiful girl; she claimed no one for her friend, was engaging so much of his time."

she spoke of no acquaintances, she never “I had forgotten—but I now recall the cir- luded to parents, or to brother or sister, or cumstance; I remember, I was walking with other relation; she made no mention of her him near the Garden,' and he made some home. Besides, a strange sadness, strange in trivial excuse to leave me and turn into it. one so young, seemed to possess her, and to You afterwards told me he had an appoint-pervade her spirit, and while contemplating ment there, but I thought little of it." that imperturbable countenance, Derrilly at

“Well, I will give you the story as I now times felt an awe come over him for which have it, quite complete, for I was partly in he could not account, and which for moDervilly's confidence, and was with him du- ments subdued even the force of his passion. ring his illness and when he died. He was It appeared to hin then, as if he were under born in Louisiana, of French parents, who, a spell; but presently, when a gentle smile after spending some years in America, re- illumined her face, her eyes woald be turnturned to their native country. He spoke ed on him so lovingly, and her look express, English fluently, as you know, and when you as plainly as look could, that all her trust deserted me we became very intimate. Then was in him and in him only. Dervilly would it was I learned how deeply the poor fellow forget every thing in the raptures of such was in love, actually in love. No mere tran-moments; indeed in his ecstasy he would be sitory emotion—no momentary passion for driven almost to madness; for of all charan adventure-no affair of gallantry, was this: acters," continued Partridge, “hers was the his very being was absorbed-he became one to set a youth of ardent temperament wholly changed-it seemed as if he had bound absolutely crazy. So matters advanced, or himself, body and soul, to some spirit of an- rather I should say, so time advanced, while otber world. I never saw, never read, of so affairs did not. It was at this period," said engrossing a feeling. At last he confessed my friend, “that Dervilly gave me his conto me. He said he had met, a few months fidence. Our intimacy had gradually increase before, at the house of a former friend of his ed from the hour of your leaving us, and st family, who had been of considerable conse-length he unbosomed himself completely. quence under the previous reign, but was My first impression, after hearing his story, now reduced, and lived in obscurity, a crea- was that the pretty mademoiselle was no more ture of most exquisite shape and feature, who nor less than an arrant flirt; that her charms proved on acquaintance to be possessed with were magnified to a lover's vision, and that a loveliness of character, a modesty, an irre- the mystery which attended her would turn sistible charm of manner, which took him out to be no mystery at all-so I treated the captive. Dervilly became completely edam-case lightly, langhed at his description, called ored with Emilie de Coigny. This he discov- Mademoiselle Emilie a coquette, and added, ered to be her name, but on inquiring of the a little seriously, that it was a shame for her persons at whose house he first met her, he to trifle with so warm-hearted a fellow. You could get no satisfactory information ; indeed know how grating are the disparaging rea very singular reserve, as poor Dervilly marks of a friend about one in whom we thought, was maintained whenever her name confess to ourselves a deeper interest than was mentioned, so that he could not, in fact, we care to acknowledge. What I had said glean the slightest particulars about her. was kindly intended, but it touched Der. This did not prevent him from confessing his villy to the quick. “I did not think you capassion, for the girl came frequently to this pable,' he exclaimed, of thus making light house, and their acquaintance ripened very of my confidence-I find I was deceived fast. Emilie de Coigny felt for the first time you are at liberty to make as much sport of that her heart was occupied, and all that rest- ine as you will. I have learned a lesson which lessness of spirit caused by the unconscious I shall take care to remember. You must longing of the affections laid at rest, and Al- not speak so,' I said, 'I really was not serious. fred Dervilly became the sole object of her I take back every word. I would not wound thoughts and of her hopes, if hopes she had. you for the world—forgive me.' Then we All this, I repeat, Emilie de Coigny felt; but, shook hands, and Dervilly assured me I had singular to say, she hesitated to confess what misjudged his Emilie; he would ask her perwas in her heart, even when her lover pas- mission to introduce me, and I should see for sionately entreated; it seemed as if something myself. The permission was never accorded, stood between her and happiness, to which although Dervilly urged to Mademoiselle de she feared to allude. It is not easy to de- Coigny, that I was his best and almost his ceive the heart, and Dervilly knew, despite only friend. She was unyielding; she would the apparent calmness of Einilie, despite her not see me. Meanwbile his passion increased sometimes cold demeanor, that he was loved with every impediment—yet he gained no in return. But one thing troubled and per- assurance of its being returned, save what his

heart whispered to him. In the Jardin des against such violent indulgence of them. But Plants they were accustomed to meet daily, he was too excited to listen to me. Indeed, when the weather was propitious—so much I feared he would lose his reason. It seemed Emilie yielded to her lover-and spend an as if more than ordinary passion had posseshour together; and if they could not meet in sion of him, and that it was inspired by somethe open air, they repaired to the house where thing unearthly; and, without ever having they first becaine acquainted. On one occa- seen the girl, I began to attribute to her a sion Dervilly, unable to bear suspense any supernatural influence. Besides, Dervilly conlonger, seized her hand, and passionately fessed he knew as little of his affianced as bepledged himself, his existence, his soul, his fore, and that occasionally the same icy look all to Emilie de Coigny; he swore his fate was would be turned on hiin, as it were quite in. indissolubly linked with hers, that their des- advertently, and hold him spell-bound with tiny could not be severed, and he demanded horror, while it still served to increase his from her an avowal of the truth of what he frenzy beyond all bounds. Then, her ensaid. The violence of Dervilly alarmed her; dearing smiles, her truthful and confiding she drew her hand from his, and looking him love, her absolute reliance, her entire desteadily in the face. inquired:

pendence, on Dervilly, made him so frantio "• What has prompted Monsieur to this with happiness, that he lost all capacity to sudden show of feeling?

reason. "Do you ask wbat?' exclaimed Dervilly ; “The summer passed away, but Dervilly 'it is you. Are you not answered? How had learned nothing more of the history of can I resist what is inevitable? how curb his betrothed; she still avoided the subject, myself when all hold is lost? Are you then and, when he alluded to it, she would beg so cruel? Dieu merci! be not so deadly him to desist, and hide her face in his bosom calm-it means the worst for membe angry, and weep. vexed, any thing, but look not on me with “Strange thoughts at last found their way that glazed look-it maddens me.

| into his brain, fearful surmises began to dis** Monsieur Dervilly,' said Emilie, without turb his peace, and, when absent froin Emilie, change of tone or inanner, what you have he would resolve at their next interview, to said, if it means any thing, means every insist on knowing all. But when the time thing; it means all a maiden longs to hear came, and he met, turned on him, the open from lips that are beloved. To respond, I and innocent look of the maiden's clear eyes, must be assured how far your judgment will which expressed so earnestly how entirely confirm what now seems to be a mere pas | her soul rested on his, all courage failed him, sionate ebullition. Excuse me,' she contin- and he could not go on..... ued, as Dervilly made an impatient gesture; "I have heard and read of similar protesta “One evening," continued Partridge, after tions which had little true significance. a pause, and with the tone of a person ap

“ I accept any conditions, interrupted the proaching an unpleasant subject, “One evenyoung man, and will bless you from the ing, after dinner-I think it was the first depths of my soul for naming any, even week in September—when the day had been the hardest; yes, the hardest- care not excessively sultry, I strolled into the large garwhat, so that they are from you.' The den, which you recollect belonged to our old girl regarded Dervilly as if she would search | lodgings in the Rue d'Enfer, and after a while his very nature. “You are silent-speak;,1 sat down in the summer-house. Presently can no longer contain inyself,' exclaimed little Sophie Lecomte came running out to he, wildly.

ine, and I remained amusing myself with the it Monsieur,' once more observed Made-child's prattle till it was dark. The moon moiselle de Coigny, you know not to whom shone brightly, and I did not perceive how yon address yourself; should I tell you, you late it was, until reminded of the hour by would retract all those strong words, and finding that Sophie was fast asleep in my hasten to escape in the least humiliating way lap. I rose and carried her into the house, possible.'

and went quietly to my room. I seated my“Never. Heaven is my witness, never! I self near the window without lighting the care not who you are ; I will never seek to candles, feeling that the glare would not just know; when you choose, you shall inform then harmonize with my feelings. The truth me. You need never tell me. I say, I care is, I was thinking of you, and of that romannot, so that you are mine.'

tic passage across the Apennines, and of the "And you will be mine for ever?' said the fair stranger, and so forth. I sat by the wingirl, slowly.

dow, the moonlight streaming across the 6. For ever.'

room, over the top of the old chapel, the “I am yours--yours,' and Emilie de Ocigny windows and doors open, and every thing sunk into the arms of her lover.

still except the monotonous chirping of a “In one instant the fortunes of Dervilly single cricket, louder than that of any were changed from despair he was raised French cricket I ever heard before, and to a condition of delicious joy, His raptures which sung the very same song I used to were su unnatural, that I cautioned him I hear when a boy from under the large kitch

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