guillotine with a gesture of dreadful significance. "I have no friend on earth;" said she. But you have a home," said Wolfgang. "Yes-in the grave!" The heart of the student melted at the words. If a stranger dare make an offer," said he, "without danger of being misunderstood, I would offer my humble dwelling as a shelter; myself as a devoted friend. I am friendless myself in Paris, and a stranger in the land; but if my life could be of service, it is at your disposal, and should be sacrificed before harm or indignity should come to you." There was an honest earnestness in the young man's manner that had its effect. His foreign accent, too, was in his favor; it showed him not to be a hackneyed inhabitant of Paris. Indeed there is an eloquence in true enthusiasm that is not to be doubted. The homeless stranger confided herself implicitly to the protection of the student. He supported her faltering steps across Pont Neuf, and by the place where the statue of Henry the Fourth had been overthrown by the populace. The storm had abated and the thunder rumbled at a distance. All Paris was quiet; that great volcano of human passion slumbered for a while, to gather fresh strength for the next day's eruption. The student conducted his charge through the ancient streets of the Pays Latin, and by the dusky walls of the Sorbonne to the great, dingy hotel which he inhabited. The old portress who admitted them stared with surprise at the unusual sight of the melancholy Wolfgang with a female compa nion. tentions of the student had first won her confidence, and then, apparently, her heart. She was evidently an enthusiast like himself, and enthusiasts soon understand each other. In the infatuation of the moment Wolfgang avow ed his passion for her. He told her the story of his mysterious dream, and how she had possessed his heart before he had even scen her. She was strangely affected by this recital, and acknowledged to have felt an impulse toward him equally unaccountable. It was the time for wild theory and wild actions. Old prejudices and superstitions were done away; everything was under the sway of the "Goddess of Reason." Among other rubbish of the old times, the forms and ceremonies of marriage began to be considered superfluous bonds for honorable minds. Social compacts were the vogue. Wolfgang was too much of a theorist not to be tainted by the liberal doctrines of the day. 66 Why should we separate ?" said he: "our hearts are united; in the eye of reason and honor we are as one. What need is there of sordid forms to bind high souls together?” The stranger listened with emotion: she had evidently received illumination at the same school. "You have no home nor family," continued he; "let me be everything to you, or rather let us be everything to one another. If form is necessary, form shall be observed-there is my hand. I pledge myself to you for ever." "For ever?" said the stranger, solemnly. On entering his apartment, the student, for the The stranger clasped the hand extended to her : first time, blushed at the scantiness and indiffer-"Then I am yours," murmured she, and sunk ence of his dwelling. He had but one chamber-upon his bosom. an old fashioned saloon-heavily carved and fantastically furnished with the remains of former magnificence, for it was one of those hotels in the quarter of the Luxembourg palace which had once belonged to nobility. It was lumbered with books and papers, and all the usual apparatus of a student, and his bed stood in a recess at one end. The next morning the student left his bride sleeping, and sallied forth at an early hour to seek more spacious apartments, suitable to the change in his situation. When he returned, he found the stranger lying with her head hanging over the bed, and one arm thrown over it. He spoke to her, but received no reply. He advanced to awaken When lights were brought, and Wolfgang had her from her uneasy posture. On taking her hand, a better opportunity of contemplating the stranger, it was cold-there was no pulsation-her face was he was more than ever intoxicated by her beauty. pallid and ghastly. In a word-she was a corpse. Her face was pale, but of a dazzling fairness, set Horrified and frantic, he alarmed the house. A off by a profusion of raven hair that hung cluster-scene of confusion ensued. The police was suming about it. Her eyes were large and brilliant, moned. As the officer of police entered the room, with a singular expression that approached almost he started back on beholding the corpse. to wildness. As far as her black dress permitted her shape to be seen, it was perfect symmetry. Her whole appearance was highly striking, though she was dressed in the simplest style. The only thing approaching to ornament which she wore was a broad, black band round her neck, clasped by diamonds. The perplexity now commenced with the student how to dispose of the helpless being thus thrown upon his protection. He thought of abandoning his chamber to her, and seeking shelter for himself elsewhere. Still he was so fascinated by her charms, there seemed to be such a spell upon his thoughts and senses, that he could not tear himself from her presence. Her manner, too, was singular and unaccountable. She spoke no more of the guillotine. Her grief had abated. The at "Great heavens!" cried he," how did this woman come here?" "Do you know any thing about her?" said Wolfgang eagerly. 'Do I?" exclaimed the police officer: “she was guillotined yesterday!" He stepped forward; undid the black collar round the neck of the corpse, and the head rolled on the floor! The student burst into a frenzy. "The fiend? the fiend has gained possession of me!" shrieked he: "I am lost for ever!" They tried to soothe him, but in vain. He was possessed with the frightful belief that an evil spirit had re-animated the dead body to ensnare him. He went distracted, and died in a madhouse. The day has waned, and now the silent stars, Following the pathway of the Titan sun: They are obscured and hidden from the sight, And yet, despite the sable veil, which throws Gleam forth quick flashes of phosphoric light. They who "in ships go down unto the deep," They above others know thy wondrous power, THANKSGIVING PRAYER OF THE MARINER. Lord of the earth and seas, Whose being with eternity beganLo! upon bended knees Behold the reprobate-poor, sinful man! Father and God, accept Our thanks for all thy mercies, in the name Of HIM, thy Son, who wept Over man's degradation, sin and shame. Thy wonders, mighty Lord, Are seen and felt in all from pole to pole. And thy deep voice is heard In the loud thunders that above us roll. The lightning's searing flame Are but the vivid flashes of thine eye, "The windy breath of night," That gently curls the surface of the sea: Or the dread whirlwind's might, Are eloquent, O Lord, in praise of thee! Thou, who in days of yore, Did'st guide the wave-worn Noah o'er the main; Vouchsafe to us, once more To greet our children and our homes again. Be thou, O God, our guide! Thro' life's tempestuous ocean, make us blest; And bear us on thy tide Into the haven of Eternal rest! At length the look-out on the mast-head hails And soon the dreamy outline in the distance Assumes a "form and shape;" and yet more near, When the dense atmosphere gives no resistance, The "chalk clifts of old England” plain appear. And now for port they steer; The anchor drops-their wives and children come To bid the weary sailor "welcome home!" J. T. P. The Empire of Women. HER might is gentleness-she winneth sway THE DEAD SON RESTORED. BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE INVISIBLE GENTLEMAN." MANY days and nights had rolled heavily away since the fatal event; but time had brought no "healing on his wings" for the bereaved mother. Lonely and bowed down she sate in her desolalation; and, if she dared not with her lips to upbraid the sovereign arbiter of man's destiny, her heart murmured rebelliously within her. From its deep and secret recesses there arose no echo to the pious ejaculation.-" Thy will be done!" Wild and vague were the visions which thence took possession of her mind; and more slowly than ever seemed the hours to creep, while she waited the return of the messenger, whom she had despatched to the distant church where the Thick darkness overshadowed her stricken mortal remains of her beloved boy were deposited. spirit. To her, "weary, stale, flat, and unprofit- It appeared like hoping against conviction; and able were all the uses of this world"—for her yet she felt that the aged man could not have beloved and beautiful child was no more a dwell-meant to trifle with her feelings. er therein so she wept, and refused to be comforted, because he was not." 44 Oh, that I had been strong enough to undertake the journey myself!" she exclaimed. 66 Four An aged and a holy man (or such he seemed) days have now elapsed and I have no tidings! now approached her, and mildly exhorted her to Can they be dallying with me? Yes, it must be submission; but, for a while, she heard him as so. They mock and humor me; and give way though she heard him not, for her faculties ap- to what they deem my fancies. They imagine peared benumbed with excess of grief. Daugh- me delirious, because I choose not to explain the ter!" said he, at length, in a severity of tone ground of my hope. Wondrous hope it is; and I which roused her attention, "tell me what there feel it grow stronger and stronger with me. Ha! is in life so desirable that thou shouldst wish it to what an extraordinary sensation do I experience be restored to one concerning whose present hap- at this moment! 'Tis as though a heavy weight piness thou canst entertain no reasonable doubt?" were removed from me; and the pure air fans and "Father!-reverend father!" she exclaimed, cools my long burning forehead. Hark! Hush! "ask me not such questions! Be not angry with Hark! Is it possible? Yes, yes! I cannot be misme; for you know not, you cannot know a moth- taken. Those are his little footsteps! Nearerer's love. Oh, my poor boy!-my beautiful-nearer they come! Why cannot I fly? Oh! beautiful boy! He was so good, so affectionate, mercy, mercy! This is too much! It is-it is he! so innocent, so full of promise-" Henry Love! Bless-bless-blessings! Where Aye," said the venerable comforter, "of pro--what-where have you been? And do I again, mise which might never have been fulfilled. indeed, embrace my own dear-dear boy? Where Nay, had he lived, perchance thou mightest have have you been? What have they been doing to found cause to make thee curse the hour of his you?" birth." "God forgive thee, for thy foul man!"-cried the indignant mother. turest me to the uttermost !-prithee, my tears!" 46 slander, old Hear me, daughter!" said the aged man: “It is possible yet for Him, in whose hands are the issues of life and death, to restore unto thee thy son! but” Mothers alone can comprehend the full joy of such a meeting. The deep gloom which had shrouded her spirit fled away before that burst of light; for her son had hitherto been to her even as the light of her life. Pale was his cheek, and his whole frame bore indications of recent illness; but the placid smile and unclouded brow told that all suffering was at an end. The eyes which she had watched and "Ha! what?" gasped the bereaved one-seen gradually and languidly abating in lustre, "What sayest thou? I have had such dreams! now gleamed with a sparkling brilliancy which Methought it could not be that he was really gone! she fancied more than earthly. But no, no-I saw him-I clung to him till they tore me away-and he was-dead!" The last word was faintly breathed in a hysterical whisper; and, shuddering, she cowered down, and hid her face in her hands.. "He who gave and who took away, can also restore," said the aged visitor. "If it be his will you may yet again embrace your boy. You may yet see him grow up to youth and manhood. But, remember!-to you he owes his birth to your disconsolate prayers and the means you will adopt he will owe his return to the world, from which he would otherwise have escaped while innocent-remember that his soul is immortal, and "I cannot bear to think of what you have endured," she murmured, seeking as it were to screen her mental vision, for a moment, amid the excess of light. "Indeed, I have been very-very happy," said the little boy: "happier than ever I was before. It was here," (and he placed his hand on his heart,) “here that I felt happiness. I had no wants, as you know I always used to have. I did not even want to come back to you and yet, I remember thinking you would come to me.' "Those were dreams, my sweet one," said the mother: "but we are now together again, and will part no more." "I am very glad to see you again, mamma," were away from her, and when they met, their said the little fellow, "indeed I am: but I hope meetings were no longer like those of a mother you will let me go back again to the place I came and her dear son, though they still continued to from. You must come and see me there. So use those terms. many other children are there, and all so good, that I am sure you cannot help loving them as much as you do me and I shan't be at all jealous, for I love them all as well as I love myself." "Oh! my dear, dear boy!" exclaimed his mother, "indeed, indeed I cannot part with you. You must remain with me." Then the child, for the first time since his return, looked sad; but, perceiving his mother in tears, and remembering all her past kindness, he threw his arms around her neck and laid his face on her bosom. And there forgetfulness seemed to come over him, for, after a few faint sobs, he sank to sleep, and thus appeared tacitly to have resigned himself unto her will. Yet afterwards, during the time that he continued a child, he would frequently speak of that place and of the good children he had left; and would sometimes express a wish to go to them. But on these occasions his mother always wept; so, as he loved her, he learnt to forbear mentioning what appeared to distress her. And then, as he grew older, many other things engaged his attention, and at last won his affections so completely, as to banish all thoughts of any other happiness than that which he could derive from their enjoyment. Thus, like other children, he grew up with many faults; but the fond mother perceived them not, for unbridled affection seeks only for reasons to justify its own blind partiality. She beheld him grow in stature and in strength, and her heart glowed within her as she gazed upon his expressive countenance; and wondrous visions of his future course came over her with a power as though revealed by the tongue of prophecy. Pleasant, inexpressibly pleasant, were those dreams, and for a while no speck appeared to dim the horizon of her cloudless sky. All with her was joy, and gratitude, and peace, and love. Now his father was gone, and he was an only son, looking forward with eager desire for the day when he should be of age,-a day which his mother believed would be the crowning glory of her life. More than once had she fervently breathed a prayer that she might see that day, and then "depart in peace." The old hall of his ancestors rang with loud peals of laughter, and shouts of mirth and revelry, and, when they died away, the melodies of many sweet voices arose, floating successively in the air. Then, dark and tempestuous, the night came on, as though striving to draw its curtain over and quell the festive scene; but the ancient edifice kindled into a blaze of light, and from within flung the shadows of its fantastic tracery outward, as in mockery, upon the earth. Long and unceasingly played the merry music, and sylph-like and graceful forms passed gaily too and fro. The heir, the only and beloved son, the lord of the feast, moved amid smiling and lovely countenances, and bright and speaking eyes met his at every turn. For manly beauty and polished ease none of the multitude might compare with him; and the looks of many mothers seemed to say that they envied her to whom he owed his birth. Yet she, the fond and doting parent, sat alone, and her heart was full, but not with joy for he had spoken harshly, very harshly to her; and had expressed his wish, now a command, that she should seek a humbler home elsewhere. So she went her way, breathing fervent prayers for his welfare and invoking blessings on his head; and, in solitude, she dreamed strange dreams for his future happiness, till one, on which she had scarcely dared to dwell, appeared likely to be realized. There was a lovely girl whom she had known from earliest childhood, meek, and modest and affectionate, and most beautiful. Too delicate a Then, o'er the spirit of such dreams a change flower would she have seemed, in all eyes save was wrought, by complaints of her son's conduct those of a mother, to be transplanted to the dwellat school, but these she contrived to think lightlying of that boisterous, headstrong, and ungoverned of, by attributing them to misrepresentation or youth. But the fond mother said, "Even as envy. He could not, she affirmed, be guilty of when David played before Saul, so shall her prewhat was laid to his charge. She was sure he sence and the melody of her voice cause the evil could not. It was not in his nature. spirit to flee away from my son ; for I know that his heart is good, though he has erred by associating himself with evil-doers." Alas! this nature, once so comparatively innocent, now seemed entirely changed. His return beneath the parental roof, was the commencement of a series of severe trials for his devoted mother. Yet even when driven by his frowardness and disobedience to weep alone, she would look back to the past, and would believe that his heart was uncontaminated, and that his old "behavior" arose only from the thoughtlessness of his age. That he loved her, and would do anything for her, she still felt confident; that was a point which she would not give up, even when, from repeated acts of unkindness, she felt as though her heart was bleeding. During his transition from puerility to early manhood, she seemed to have grown prematurely aged. The course of his pleasures and pursuits Again the ancient hall resounded with the voices of mirth, and she, the mother, was there, rejoicing in the joy of her son, and gazing with unutterable rapture, upon the angelic features of his bride. Rapidly then seemed time to pass away; and then mysterious whisperings were heard and strange rumors afloat, that all went not well with the young couple. And the color faded from the cheek of the bride; faint and fainter still became the sweet smile upon her lips. Yet she complained not; but seemed resolute to endure in silence, even to heart-breaking. Then the son came to the mother and told her strange tales, which she understood not, concern Yet she blessed him as he turned away from her, and her prayers followed him in his downward course. But she knew not whither he went; for the cloud of mystery covered his footsteps, so that they could not be traced. ing his wants and disappointments. And he spake not harshly as heretofore, but with much kindness, and saluted her with great apparent respect and affection. So she gave him all that she possessed, save a small pittance over which she had no power, and he went his way well pleased, whilst she Fearful were the visions which thence haunted rejoiced in the belief that he still loved her. But her imagination, and brief and startling appeared from that time he became yet more estranged from her slumbers Terror held possession of her soul, her, almost as though he had forgotten her exist-and, in her agony, she prayed for forgetfulness. ence. Then her heart withered and sank within A dreary interval of deep gloom succeeded, and, her, and, in her loneliness and desolation, she amid the confused and rolling darkness, it seemed brooded over the past, and was tortured by many to her, ever and anon, that hideous and shadowy apprehensions of coming evil which should befal figures were moving to and fro, gibbering and him; so she wept and prayed for him alternately, mocking at her. And it was imprinted on her and "sharper than the serpent's tooth" can inflict mind that they were evil spirits seeking the dewere the pangs that she endured. At the mention struction of her son, whose image appeared ever of his name she trembled and grew pale; for it among them in their fearful transit. was not hidden from her, that when they spake of him, they were wont to speak not as a mother wished that men should speak of her son. There fore, her strength waned away, and her steps were feeble as she walked, stooping, and with her eyes bent upon the ground. Then, from that ancient hall there came a funereal cry, for the conqueror Death had passed through and smitten its fairest flower. The mourning honors that are bought attended her to the tomb, whilst unpurchased tears were shed by all around save him for whom she had lived, and from whose harsh treatment it was said she had died. But more than all, his mother mourned, and writhed and groaned in spirit; for it seemed to her as though his guardian angel had fled away from the presence of her son. Then, to the door from whence the sable nodding plumes had but lately moved slowly away, there came a bridal train. And the bride walked haughtily, adorned with jewels, and much gold and costly pearls; and, at her coming, the aged servants drew back, and sighed, remembering her who was gone. And much feasting and revelry followed, whereat the bride and bridegroom appeared as if striving to convince others that they were happy. Then to her lone and humble dwelling came the figure of an old and greyheaded man. His form was bowed with age, and his knees smote together; but the burden of years pressed not so heavily upon him as the weight upon his heart, for he was the bearer of evil tidings. And the mother knew him for one who had served her long and faithfully in the pleasant times that were never to return; and with her scanty fare she made him welcome, and commanded him to be seated in her presence. And when he was somewhat recovered, he told her many things of her son; but there were others which he revealed not, for the words clung to the roof of his mouth. Then they went away together, and journeyed far, taking no rest, till they came to a great city; and it seemed to her that the eyes of the multitude were upon her, and her heart smote her that she had dared to murmur at the past, for now she knew what it was to be ashamed. Few, save a mother, could have recognised the squalid prisoner, loaded with chains, and, as a wild beast caught in the snare, looking vengeance and defiance on all who approached. Could that be the man who so lately stood "the centre of the glittering throng?" Could that hardened criminal But the mother remained in her solitude, and have been once in very deed the beautiful and infelt that her son had contracted a marriage of ne-nocent boy whose thoughts and sighs were for cessity, not of love. No more at intervals only did the ancient hall sound with the voices of merry-making. It was now a scene of continued riot and extravagance. The debauchee, the glutton, the drunkard, the spendthrift, and the needy, crafty gambler, there found admittance and welcome. All was wasteful prodigality; and fierce and angry disputes were arising among them, and bacchanalian and fiend-like were their orgies. heaven alone as he hung upon his mother's neck? And now she bowed herself before him in tears, and besought him to repent; but he answered her roughly, and the harshness she had borne from him before appeared as mildness compared with the fierceness of his desperation. Yet she abstained not from her purpose, but took his right hand, and after pressing it to her heart, would have raised it to her lips; but the thought that it was stained with the blood of a fellow-creature came over her with resistless power, and she let it fall with a convulsive shudder. And with them and thus the son ran his mad career, till "poverty came upon him as an armed man," and thrust him forth from the house of his Then she went to and fro in the great city, seekancestors, which passed into the hands of another. ing good counsel. And the aged man brought "Come and dwell with me, my dear Henry," to her the savings of his earlier years, and would said the mother, for her heart yearned towards not be refused. So they mourned and strove tohim. "Come and dwell with me, my son, and let gether for the delivery of him who spurned them us be together as in the days long past." But he from his presence. laughed her to scorn, and answered her harshly, and upbraided her even for her former generosity to himself, by which she had put it out of her power to render him present assistance. And now, in the midst of a crowded hall, he appeared arraigned for murder. Stern, terrible, and vindictive was his aspect, as though he felt his degradation, but not his crime. The mother |