doubts. She had not heard from him, it is true; sorrows were relieved by the presence of this but there were so many reasons for that, she would child,-he seemed a cherub sent to heal his woundnot think of it as intentional on his part, though ed spirit. He forgot that it was possible another she regretted it. 66 might claim him, and looked upon him as all his own. Lucy was restored to her father's presence, and harmony once more reigned among them. What would you here," said he, gruffly, as Neville advanced. Lucy was banished from her father's presence, and occupied an apartment remote from the family rooms. She soon after gave birth to a fine boy. A few months after this, as Col. Westcott was He grew large and strong, and noble looking. He standing at his door, with his grandson in his arms, was now her only comfort. She gazed on him he beheld a stranger rapidly approaching on horsewith fond affection, and longed to present him to back. He galloped up to the gate, dismounted, his father, whom she thought he resembled; but fastened his horse, and entered. As he walked his hazel eye and chesnut hair, were all her own; up the pathway to the house, Westcott recognized, and those who beheld him, declared he was the though pale and care worn, the still handsome very image of her lost brother Isaac, when an infant. Capt. Neville. All his hostile feelings were once Neville still came not, nor wrote. How tedious- more roused, when he beheld him who had taught ly passed the weary months, with all the heart- disobedience to his daughter, and who now came sickness of hope deferred, to Lucy. Was she in- to deprive him of his little idol-his second Isaac, deed deserted? She dared not dwell upon the who had made him forget the loss of his son. He idea-it filled her with despair. Yes, I will determined, if possible, never to resign his treahope," she said, "I still will hope, while the re- sure. That event, which would bring health and collection of his goodness remains to me. If he re- happiness to Lucy, was most unwelcome to him. turns, he shall not find his Lucy a poor wasted He embraced his grandson more closely, and drawcreature; hope shall yet bring back some blooming himself up to his full height, stood in the doorto this faded cheek." But in spite of her efforts, way, with a more forbidding aspect. as time passed, her heart sunk lower-her countenance became of marble paleness, whilst her emaciated form showed her sufferings. Her sisters "I come to seek one," answered Neville, "to were all well married, and settled in the vicinity: whom I trust my arrival will not be unwelcome.” and sometimes, to relieve her mother's household "There is no one here," said Wescott, not sofcares, Lucy would venture from her exile and as-tened by the mild and polished bearing, the open sist in family occupations, when her father was countenance of Neville-whose fine expression absent. She was once occupied in the garden, usually prepossessed all in his presence, “who can accompanied by her little son, who was then about be claimed by such as you?-Capt. Neville, I a year old, and could just walk alone. As she was have told you once, never more to darken my door busily engaged, he wandered a short distance from with your prerence, and I tell you so again." her, along the pathway,-all at once, she heard So saying, Westcott slammed the door violently her father's step-it was too late to withdraw, she in his face, and retreated within the house. therefore concealed herself behind some shrubbe- Neville's proud blood was all on fire at this insultry, where she could behold her father and her son. ing reception. He hastily retraced his steps, The child, who had always beheld looks of fond-mounted his horse, and galloped away. ness and affection, felt no fear; but running to- "Is this the happy meeting," he thought, before wards Col. Westcott, clasped his fat little arms around him. The Colonel looked down upon him for a moment, then raised him in his arms, clasped him to his breast, and murmurred, “Isaac-Isaac.” For a moment he forgot the past, and seemed once more to embrace his child, when he rejoiced at possessing a man child. His dark stern nature seemed melting away-softer and more human feelings arose within him: he buried his face in the luxuriant ringlets of his grandchild, to hide his tears, whilst the boy passed his arm around his neck, and clung to him. Lucy remained concealed, while tears of joy flowed down her checks. Mrs. Westcott, who was sitting on the porch, was much surprised to see her husband approach, with his grandchild in his arms. She made no comment, however, and merely informed him his tea was waiting. He brought from its place, the high chair which had served for all his children, and placed the boy in it. He then went to the door and called, "Lucy, come to tea." Lucy silently obeyed, and the meal passed as if nothing extraordinary had occurred. The prattle of the child, who enjoyed the novelty of his situation, was the only interruption to the silence of the party. Col, Westcott was never so happy, after this, as when he had his grandchild in his arms; his past he had gone far, "with my beloved Lucy, which has cheered me on through so long a separation, so many perils-not to see her once-not even to know if she still lives ?—the proud, old, vindictive churl, he is not worthy to be the father of one so sweet and gentle. I will return-I will force my way— she is mine-I will see her at least." He turned his horse once more, and determined to reconnoitre. He entered a little grove of trees, dismounted, and fastening his horse, he attained a station where he could see the house. He watched for a long time, and strained his eyes in vainhe saw not her he so much wished to behold. It was a chilly afternoon in spring, and there was no inducement to tempt her abroad. The only persons he could see, were a girl going to milk the cows, and a man driving home a yoke of oxen. Darkness at length concealed all things, except the light which appeared from the windows. Neville impatiently counted the weary hours as they passed, until he supposed the family had retired to rest. When lights were no longer seen from the house, he cautiously approached, and anxiously gazed around for some token of his Lucy. As he went to the other side of the house, he beheld a light gleaming from the upper window. It was from the room he had once occupied, and memory re called every circumstance connected with her he and pressing him to her bosom, assisted by her huswas now seeking. A female form passed quickly across. He had but a momentary view, it was however sufficient—he recognized his Lucy's graceful motion. His heart beat with joy, as he discovered she still lived. He watched long in vain, she did not again appear. He was considering how to obtain an interview with her, when his foot stumbled on something in the high grass,-it was a ladder, left there by the painters who had beenness of once more being united. employed to repaint the house. It was the thing he wanted; he raised the ladder softly to the window of the room adjoining the apartment occupied by Lucy, which he observed had been left open. He quickly mounted and entered the window. band, descended the ladder. They soon arrived at the place where Neville had left his horse. He placed Lucy on it, with the child in her arms; and taking the bridle, he led them to the nearest town. There they procured a more comfortable conveyance, and stopped not in their journey, until they were beyond the reach of all molestation from Westcott-and they could enjoy, in security, the happi Westcott, after his meeting with Neville, went immediately into the back part of the house, where he found Lucy occupied with her mother. He placed her boy in her arms, bade her retire to her room, and leave it not until the next morning, when he required her to be prepared to start with him on a journey to a distant part of the country. Lucy obeyed with wonder. She asked no questions, for she knew it would be useless-but employed herself in preparing to depart. She sat by the bed side of her sleeping child, musing on the strange commands of her father. All the family had retired to rest, and the house was profoundly still, when the sound of a footstep in the adjoining room arrested her attention. The door of her apartment opened. Was it an apparition from another world, or did Neville, her husband, stand before her? When she found herself clasped in his arms, and addressed by many endearing epithets, she could no longer doubt; but was convinced it was indeed Neville-alive, and faithful. Lucy thought not, she cared not, then, how he had appeared so strangely and so suddenly. She was only conscious of the delightful certainty of beholding him once more. A short time only, did he indulge in the outpourings of their hearts. “You are mine, Lucy,” said he, “you are mine; we must be separated no more. You must fly with me, this moment, before your father prevents our reunion." My father," repeated Lucy," will not prevent it. He knows all,—he has forgiven me, and loves our child as he once loved Isaac." "Our child!" said Neville, with surprise. Did you not know," said Lucy, as she raised the cover from her sleeping boy, "did you not receive my letters." When Lucy beheld the flush of joy and affection, which radiated Neville's countenance, as he gazed on his beautiful boy, she felt all her sufferings repaid, in that happy moment. When Neville recounted the rude and insulting reception he had met with from Col. Westcott, and Lucy remembered the journey she was ordered to undertake, she was convinced her father would leave no means untried to separate them. Her heart failed at the prospect of the long and vexatious interval which must elapse before their reunion, and she shrank from the scenes she would probably encounter with her dreaded parent. She listened to Neville's entreaties; and hastily attiring herself, she wrapped the sleeping child in a cloak, Neville had been ordered, immediately after his arrival in England, on foreign and dangerous service. When he returned to his native land, he found his parents no longer living, and became involved in a tedious lawsuit. Whilst he was waiting to settle his affairs, he had written often to Lucy, but supposed the irregular state of the mails had been the cause of the miscarriage of their lettersfor he also had never received one from her. We will not dwell on the violence of Westcott, when he found himself again deprived of the object of his idolatrous attachment, and frustrated in his wishes. He sank into a moody, sullen state, and became more gloomy and cheerless than ever. Neville had made arrangements to reside on the land he had inherited from his father, situated not far from the farm of Westcott. Lucy determined to seek a reconciliation with her father, whose displeasure was the only obstacle to her happiness. She sent her little boy to him, whose increasing resemblance to the lost Isaac was more and more striking. When Westcott beheld the child, his heart yearned towards him. He detained him, and sent word to Lucy, he would forgive her all her disobedience, if she would leave Isaac, as he called the child, to reside with him. It was a sore trial to Lucy, but her husband did not object, and she consented. She was therefore once more received at her father's house. Lucy, however, was not long separated from her child; for Westcott's strong and unrestrained passions had preyed inwardly on his existence. He fell, whilst apparently in the vigor of his days, like a tree in the forest, overthrown by the whirlwind, with all its leaves green upon its boughs. After the shock of her father's death was over, Lucy and Neville enjoyed the happiness they had anticipated together. Their past sufferings were forgotten, or only remained to teach them to be more grateful for their present blessings. They not only formed the felicity of each other, but dif fused happiness on all around them. Dirge. E. S. Alas, for the clod that is resting now, Thy smile of sweetness untold I see, Frithiof's Saga. A SWEDISH POEM, BY ESAIAS TENGER. To the Editor of the Ladies Companion, DEAR SIR, As if he were an infant's toy, he turns him up and down; While many said-" he's rightly served, and so should we have done." peace to break? Come up to me, thou rash old man! I fain with thee would speak: What is thy name? whence dost thou come? what seek'st thou in my hall?" This, to the ancient man, incens'd, king Ring did loudly call. "Thou askest much at once, O king! yet will to me: With sorrow have I nurtured been; my heritage is want; You will no doubt rejoice with me, that the" What noise is that below? Who dares the royal above beautiful poem has, at last, after appearing in Danish and German, received an English dress. The lovers of poetry will hail its appearance for itself alone, as it is a very masterly performance, and for its novelty, as the poetry of Sweden so seldom reaches us. The several cantos are a succession of cabinet pictures, in which the antique costumes and brilliancy of coloring, wear all the originality and freshness of former days. The customs and mythology of Scandinavia are faithfully delineated, while the simple manners and true hearts of these ancient Norsemen, throw an inexpressible charm over their history. The poem abounds with bold graphic imagery, and touches of nature, and deep tenderness; and with your permission, I will from time to time extract some of its beauties, for the gratification of your readers. To the American ladies it will be fraught with interest, as the translation from which I shall select, is by one of their fair countrywomen, now in Europe. I have adopted her version, as it adheres more closely to the original than that of another author But now it's wreck'd, which appeared about the same time. The hero, Frithiof, who combines all the boldness and daring And I'm grown old, and of a northern Sea-King with great refinement of feeling and tenderness of heart, repairs in disguise to the court of king Ring, whom bis betrothed I came thy wisdom to behold, renown'd both bride, Ingeborg, has been forced to marry. CANTO XVII. E. R. S. 'Twas Jul; and in his chair of state king Ring He sat him down upon the bench the nearest to While pointing with his finger at the bearskin The stranger's eyes flash'd fierce disdain; he rises And from the wolf's abode I come, where As o'er the wave, with dwelleth Famine gaunt. In former times my dragon's back how proudly forced to live, salt buried in the sand, burning on the strand. far and near, But with contempt they treated me, and that I could not bear; I took a coxcomb by the waist, and twirl'd him Yet he's unscath'd: so pardon, king, the free- "Wise thy discourse, and courteous are thy Obedient to the king's behest, he let his bear- With gallant mien erect he stood, in velvet By heavens!" drawled out a Brummellite of the first water, who was breakfasting with some friends one morning, "by heavens! I'm dreadfully distressed, unspeakably fatigued, already-absolutely exhausted. These mornings are horrid things. Why can't we do without mornings ? will you, my dear madam," continued he, addressing a young lady who sat next him, "will you be so obliging as to try and open that muffin for me? for positively I haven't strength; and in the meantine I'll make an effort to flirt with this piece of + The Sun, or Apollo, toast." Cork Boots. from the confident way in which I spoke, were inclined to risk a small sum for the chance of winning a large one. This being finished, it was agreed "Say what you please," said Captain E. to his friend Major S., "say what you please of the sobriety and gravity of the English nation; but how-on all hands that the strictest secresy should be ever we may flatter ourselves on that head, we do not by any means bear that character amongst foreigners." "You don't mean to assert, my friend," rejoined Major S., "that we have half the vivacity of the French, or a tenth part of the wit of the Italians; our demeanor is more grave, more thoughtful." "A fig for your gravity," cried his friend: "did you ever hear of a Frenchman or an Italian playing such pranks, such hoaxes, as some of our regiment did?-for instance, take the story of the Cork Boots." preserved, and that no one should interfere with my arrangements; so, without taking any one into my confidence, I proceeded with my measures accordingly. "I had bills posted up in the most public streets and squares in Lisbon, announcing that an Englishman in Cork Boots would, at the height of the tide on the following Wednesday, walk across the Tagus; and inviting all the men, women, and children to come and see so novel a sight,—a sight that they might never have it in their power to see again. Wednesday arrived; and as if on purpose "Ha, ha, ha!" roared Major S.; "that really to do all manner of justice to bootikins, the heat of was a capital affair! Do you know that there was the sun was tempered by a fine refreshing breeze nothing during the whole campaign that afforded from the Tagus. At an early hour all our mess me so much pleasure, so many agreeable recollec-was on the alert to ascertain what was likely to be tions; although begun in a frolic, it was the means the result of the experiment; and for a while I was of assisting more than one friend, which without exposed to a hot fire from those who had betted the aid of cork boots I never could have accom- against its success. plished." " "What's that, Ned ?" said his uncle, a hearty old squire, and who was as fond of a joke or a merry tale as his nephew-" what story is this? I thought thou hadst emptied thy budget long ago." "Why, uncle," replied Ned, I have hardly had time to give you the whole of my pranks since I left merry England; but speaking, you know, makes the throat dry, so let's have another bottle of claret, and then you shall have the story of the Cork Boots." "I doubt if it's worth so much," said his uncle, winking at Captain E.; "however, I'll try you once more, in the hope that this story may be something better than your last one." So the wine being put on the table, the fire stirred, and the candles snuffed, Ned, without more preamble, thus began : But the tables were soon turned. Long before the appointed time, the population began to pour out of Lisbon; the shops were shut, and every horse, mule, and carriage, which could be had for love or money was put in requisition. It was a glorious day for the boatmen also, who charged double price for many preferred going by water. "The place where Cork Boots was to make his debut, was from the garden wall of the fine palace of Belem, three miles from Lisbon; and at this place the Tagus is three miles across. Our Marshal, not thinking he ought to know better than his neighbors, announced his intention of being present; and the Cortes, who were then assembled, on hearing of the Marshal's intention, resolved also to honor Corky with their august presence, and, accompanied by a prodigious tail of attendants, they took their station at the windows of the palace of Belem, which almost touches the Tagus, thus securing to themselves the best situation for seeing every thing. "I shall not soon forget the scene which presented itself to our view. In place of ten thousand there were fifty thousand people assembled; and the variety of their dresses, and the mingling of the different groups together, would have formed a most enchanting subject for the painter. There one might see ladies in the most elegant costume mixed with the veil and mantilla of the lower orders; friars and officers-sellers of cakes and con "I dare say, uncle, you will recollect the time when hoaxing was all the fashion in London, and that in one case in particular not only the street in which the person lived, but even those adjoining were absolutely blocked up by the people, who were hurrying, some on foot and others in vehicles of every description, with the innumerable articles which they had been ordered to send in. Well, the English papers which were sent out were quite full of this hoax, and afforded us great amusement at the mess. This was followed by many sage remarks regarding the gullibility of John Bull, till at length I hazarded a conjecture that the Lisbonites might perhaps be successfully imposed upon. A fectionary-venders of lemonade-criers of iced dozen voices immediately scouted the idea;-the water-mingled with the military bands that serething was impossible; no, none but John, honest naded the multitude; the little town of Belem was simple John, was at all likely to fall into a trap. all agog-never had it been so gay. In short, my All this did not discourage me; and after a great dear uncle, never was a hoax more charmingly ardeal of talk I at length declared that I would un-ranged. dertake to assemble at a given point ten thousand of the inhabitants of Lisbon, in the expectation of hearing or seeing something very wonderful, and which, of course, they would neither hear nor see. I had scarcely spoken when bets were offered to me on all hands, and at high odds against my undertaking. I took a few of them, and the remainder was taken by those of my brother officers who, "Three o'clock was the time fixed for Corky to take his leave of the land. As the hour drew near, the populace began to look out for his arrival, and to wonder what could detain him. Expectation sat on every face; the Tagus spread out her silvery bosom as if inviting her expected guest; but still he came not. The Marshal began to look grave, and took out his watch; so did his suite, so did the |