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the Vicegerent of Heaven, hath now absolved you of your allegiance to Henry Tudor.

A low murmur of approbation greeted this an

nouncement.

Inmediately there entered a fair and stately form, followed by female attendants, whom De Wilton again recognised as the mysterious being who seemed to be the arbitress of his destiny. But he held his peace, and, repressing all tokens of a prior knowledge, awaited the result.

With a modest dignity she took her station at the head of the council, the Prior on her right, when the chiefs arose. Waving her hand, she thus addressed them:

"Friends, companions in one common cause, and sharing one common danger, it hath pleased an all-wise Providence to appoint me to a duty, which, however unworthy or unwilling to execute, I must now discharge. My birth demands one privilege, and its exercise, though repugnant to my private thoughts, I owe to my country and my faith. I have plighted my troth, and he whom I have chosen is of the royal lineage. To this only I bound myself. And now let him stand forth who holds my pledge."

A deep silence ensued; but every eye glanced round to ascertain the object of her choice, save that of De Wilton, who stood forth as the betrothed of their future queen. Holding up his right hand, the fiery opal shot an auspicious lustre.

"Pardon me Sir John," she continued, "if, at I my request, the ring was taken. The purpose may now explain. I was educated in a convent at Ghent; but it was the cardinal's wish it should not be in perfect seclusion. Unknown, I often mixed with the crowd, where I saw De Wilton. The Cardinal approved, and indeed first directed my choice. His royal lineage was not unknown; but I feared lest he who won my heart might not bestow his own. A well-known superstition, if such it be, came to my aid-to wit, that if a maiden would win lawfully another's love, let her present him with a ring from a dead hand; by which token, if she can procure it, he shall prove faithful to her choice. Pardon me, De Wilton," said she, extending her hand; "I now plight my troth before these our trusty lieges. Whether I procured the good offices of the Witch of Roseberry, or took her place, it is of little use to inquire; and thus our mystery is ended."

A murmur of applause greeted this announcement, and De Wilton kissed the hand held out for his acceptance.

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Mine," said he, "is assuredly a royal lineage. From Catherine of France and Owen Tudor I claim descent. My person and my services I devote to God and my country."

There was joy and thanksgiving in every heart, and many a bosom on that memorable night, throbbed with anticipated success.

WE are ruined, not by what we really want, but by what we think we do; therefore never go abroad in search of your wants; if they be real wants, they will come home in search of you; for he that buys what he does not want, will soon want what he cannot buy.

ORIGINAL.

The Peruvian Girl.

BY A MIDSHIPMAN.

DEAR lady, take the parting kiss,

For we on earth shall meet no more; With thee I've pass'd some hours of blissBut now I leave thy sunny shore.

This land of sunshine and of flowers,
I oft will hold in memory,
When in my own dear native bowers-
When far upon the lonely sea.

Whene'er I came you smiled on me,

You prais'd my own lov'd land, And, oh! for that I worshipp'd thee, I dared to bow and kiss thy hand.

You call'd me then, enthusiast,

You smil'd that I, that land so lov'd,For her I've sail'd through storm and blast, For her through ev'ry clime have rov'd.

If e'er shall come dark danger's hour,
I'll guard her with my heart's warm blood;
And let the storm or battle lower,

I still for her will roam the flood.

I go to seek the fair green Isles,
That gem yon blue and distant sea;
Where Nature ever sheds her smiles,
O'er her own children wild and free.

I go to India's distant clime,

Where dark age on dark age has roll'd, Amidst wild scenes of blood and crimeWhere virtue yields to conquering gold.

Oh! then again, I hope once more,

My own dear, lovely land to see; To tread that gay and happy shore, Where dwell the gen'rous, brave and free.

Then oft my thoughts shall turn to where Those happy hours with thee were pass'd; When all your joys you bid me share,

And wish'd those hours fore'er might last.

Then take, dear girl, my parting kiss,

For we, lov'd one, shall meet no more; With thee I've passed some hours of blissAdieu-adieu!-those joys are o'er.

Callao, Peru.

MAN, says an elegant writer, can enjoy nothing to effect, alone. Some one must lean on his arm; listen to his observation: point out secret beauties; and become, as it were, a partner in his feelings, or his impressions are comparatively dull and spiritless. Pleasures are increased in proportion as they are participated; as roses, innoculated with roses. grow double in the process.

ORIGINAL.

Serenades.

Music! thou dearest gift, which heaven has lent, to cheer the trial hours of fallen man! Purest of all earth's pleasures, it turns the soul from the world and its cares, refines and exalts it, and prepares it to receive that schooling, which is to fit it for its future home on high, where it shall ever dwell in love and music.

pain, and the tears which flow to our eyes, spring from that mixed feeling which old Ossian terms the "joy of grief." We have but one sense-our souls are filled with music. It is everywherethe air is breathing of it-the world is all music, and as its ravishing tones float out in the brilliant night, the soul rises with it to the pure cerulean depths above, where it acknowledges the truth of the theory of old, the spheres are moving to music, and the evening stars are singing for joy. Now we realize heaven, and our hearts are filled with

I love the solemn organ pealing its anthems to heaven-the gentle flute, breathing tenderness-that soothing certainty, we shall surely behold our the guitar, sacred to love and moonlight-the lost and loved ones again. Nay, we are sure they swelling clarionett—the piano, telling of the quiet are near partaking or inspiring our calm happipleasures of home; but neither sacred organ, nor ness. pensive flute, nor clarionett with its notes of linked sweetness long drawn out, can stir my soul as martial music. The trumpet's blast shakes my spirit to its centre. Deeds of high emprise, the pomp of war, rush to my mind, and all that is dazzling and glorious in the world's history is told forth in the mingled harmony of a warlike band. All music produces a pensive feeling. Even the merry strains of the ball-room, when heard afar brings to the lonely listener, remembrances of youth and joy, and memory presents to his heart those who once trod with him the festive hall, and sighing he whispers

Visions of pleasure we have past—all that is beautiful in life, pass slowly before us. Should some early melody be touched, our home and ancient friends appear. The fascinations of the opera, the gorgeous scenery of eastern story, the varied magnificence of the heavens, the ocean's measured tramp, the pageantry of kings, all that is brilliant in painting, or touching in poetry, comes rushing o'er the soul arrayed in tenfold allurement, and, with hearts dissolved in bliss, we wish thus to pass life away, lying dreamingly listening to such heaven-born strains with the moon's light shining over us.

The serenade has ever been the lover's most successful engine, while carrying on the siege of beauty's heart. In Spain, particularly, they avail themselves of it to a great degree. Under many a balcony, the faithful cavalier may be heard to

strike the light guitar" to the ojos brilliantes of his senorita, and through the lattice the flutter of a white handkerchief or the waving of a lilly hand

while from another window perhaps may be seen the angry father, flaming with rage, and threatening dire vengeance against the intruder on his night's rest, and presumptuous aspirer after the hand of his matchless ninita.

I once knew an ardent lover, who had tried every means to obtain the heart of his fair mistress, but could not succeed. The serenade was

"Music seems like mournful wailing In the halls where we have met." Who has not felt the added charms motion gives to music. To this is owing much of the fascination of dancing. On the ocean we have marked it, when the flapping sail has seemed to swing in time to the singing of some ballad-loving sailor, or lonely passenger's flute-or rowing, some gen-gives token his strains are heard and accepted; tle summer eve, while the "voices keep tune and the oars keep time"-or, when leaning o'er the Battery railing, listening to the music from the castle, to which distance has lent enchantment, while the restless waves are slowly rocking an anchored vessel, and its tall masts are moving to and fro' against the brilliant western sky. But, music, delicious as it may be in every situation, is surrounded with double enchantments when it recommended, as it has been known to produce breaks the silence of deep midnight-while the trees are waving slowly across your window in the summer breeze, and throwing their flickering shadows over your moon illumined room. A serenade is a witching combination of music and moonlight. Then thought, with its inconceivable rapidity, flies through ages in a moment, when we are suddenly aroused by music, although awakened by the first note, we fancy we have long listened to its strains, and have passed through many a fairy scene, where music has been steeping our souls in Elysium. As the man in Alas, poor lover!-he had been unable to "chase eastern story, who imagined himself a wanderer dull sleep from beauty's eye," and left her prefrom home for many long years, when this event-sence in utter despair. ful history had passed through his brain, while Another whom I knew, fared much happier. plunging and withdrawing his head from a vase of water. But, when fully awake, and conscious of the reality of those soul-subduing tones, which have floated through our dreams, a luxurious pensiveness steals over us, and our minds revert to scenes of happiness which are past, and loved ones absent or lost. The remembrance brings no

great effects. He accordingly collected together some fine musicians, and assisted with his own voice, for he sang finely. The night was cold and damp, he heeded it not, but sang with the more ardor. The next morning he called on his charmer to reap the reward of his efforts. She spoke not of it. In vain he hinted-she did not or would not understand him. At length he ventured to ask her if the music of last night pleased her.

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Music," she said, "I heard none, but slept soundly all night."

The lady was one of high degree. Her beauty and wealth brought around her a large circle of adorers. There were many of talent, and who stood high in the world's esteem, but as yet the fair Julia had chosen none. Pleased with the admiration she excited, blooming in health, and high in spirits, she could not consent to give up all her

adorers for one, and resign the delights of being a belle, for the more sober pleasures of a wife. Of late, her attention had been attracted by a pale intellectual young man who seemed ever to follow her steps, and whose eyes were fixed on hers. She knew him for a young student whose family was received in the best society, but who were not possessed of wealth. His profession he looked forward to as his only means of support. He seldom spoke, but when he did, it was with a power and feeling which strongly interested her. Insensibly Julia, on entering a room, cast her eyes around for her gentle admirer, and there he was ever seen, in some retired corner, regardless of the brilliant crowd which surrounded him, his dark eyes seeking hers with an expression of the inost mournful tenderness.

Julia's father was very anxious for her to marry, and one day he called her to him, and made it a particular request, she would fix her choice on one of her admirers. "I am old," he said, "and wish to see you settled ere I depart." She evaded the subject, but however, promised to consider it that night.

It was a lovely night in June, when the fair heiress was awakened from her dreams by the delicious strains of a serenade beneath her window. She was ever an enthusiastic admirer of music, and now, as she listened to the serenade with intense pleasure, her thoughts were roving to every scene of happiness she had passed, and those she loved became doubly dear. In spite of herself the pale expressive face of the young student was ever before her, and his dark and tender eyes were peering at her through her waking visions.

"Do you hear that enchanting music?" she said to her aunt who slept in the same room with her. "Yes."

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Well, listen to me- Father to-day begged me to decide immediately which of my suitors I would accept, as he wished me to marry. I have no preference, and thought of casting lots, but have now concluded to accept him who has brought hither such delicious music as we hear below, as a reward for his trouble and the taste he has shown in his selections. I will go and tell papa. 80."

"A very romantic decision truly, and worthy a heroine of olden times. I think you had better get up a tournament, or wake, like Mary of Scotland,"

Julia's aunt saw her leave the room, and still imagined her joking, but the whimsical girl was in earnest, and crossing the entry she opened her father's door.

"Father, do you hear that music?"

"Go to bed child, and do not stay here talking nonsense."

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But, papa, I am in earnest, and you will find it so to-morrow-and, papa, you shall have a serenade once a week."

But her father had "turned his face unto the wall," and covering up his head, muttered something about moon-struck girls. Seeing she could get nothing more from him, she returned to her room. "Aunt, I wish you would arise, and go down stairs with me, I am afraid to go alone." “Child, what are you after now-do consider my rheumatics.

I

"Oh, put on this shawl, there's a good aunty. am going to the lower room to see my futur through the blinds."

"Was ever there such a silly child!"

In silence they reached the ground-floor and approached the window. A nervous trembling seized Julia, as she gazed through the venitian screen. In the bright moonlight they beheld a band of hired musicians, and near the window, under the shade of a tree, stood a young man, evidently the Serenader. A sudden breeze wafted aside the branches above, and the moon shining through, revealed the object of her midnight dreams, the pale student.

"Thank God!" exclaimed Julia.

"What! do you intend putting your project in execution?"

"I do, aunt."

And marry the student Charles Gray!" "Hush!"

Just then, as the hand were playing that pretty German air 'Der Doge,' young Gray, unconscious he was heard, sang in a low under tone with the music these words

Julia! from whom to sever,

Brings the death-pang to my heart-
Fairest! I'll love thee forever,
Although I to-morrow depart.

Farewell! loved one!

'Tis better to see thee no more.
Farewell! cold one!

Thou hast withered my heart to its core! Julia left the room suddenly, and her tired aunt crept slowly after her.

Charles Gray ceased singing, and leaning despondingly against the tree indulged in a gloomy reverie, in which all he had suffered from his hopeless passion arose before him. 'Yes, yes!" he murmured-"It is better to leave forever the light of those sunny eyes, than stay and be compelled to see their radiance gladdening every heart but mine. Farewell, loved Julia! Farewell forever!" A slight rustling among the leaves "To be sure I do," he growled, " and if I had above him, and to his surprise a small note dropthem here I would wring all their necks-a pesti-ped to his feet. He snatched it up-it contained lent set of fellows to wake me just as I fell in a but one word," Stay." Has heaven opened above dose." him that he thus stands gazing upwards stunned, annihilated with happiness. His whole raptured soul is beaming in his face. "She bids me stay! It is her own lovely writing!" Breathless with ecstacy, he sprang from the shadow of the tree, in the bright moonlight, knelt, pressed the note to his lips and departed. In spite of papa, she kept her word and married the happy Serenader.

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Papa, you surprise me: I, on the contrary, am so charmed that I have lost my heart to the one who could give me such a sweet serenade." "Pshaw!"

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'Do you remember you asked me to-day to accept one of my admirers for a husband-well, I have chosen him who is giving me such delightful music below."

An Irish Convent.

through the chapel, meditating so deeply in prayer as not to observe our party. Over every door was DURING a temporary sojourn in the South of Ire-printed a text from scripture, to impress upon the land, curiosity, the traveller's usual companion, minds of all educated in the convent the advaninduced me to visit the Ursuline convent, in Wa- tage of remembering that "God sees us," "God terford, not so much with a view to see the inte- is with us," and that God is good unto us." Acrior, as to observe the happiness which the fair cording to some of Mrs. Radcliffe's romantic deinmates are said to enjoy in their voluntary seclu- scriptions, I was disappointed to find the dormitory sion, and to ascertain the truth of their being per- a long comfortable room, like that of a ladies' sefectly contented and resigned to their self-imposed minary, with little beds arranged on each side, restriction from the world. We wished also to see covered with dark counterpanes: the Lady Abbess how time bore out the fulfilment of vows of early has a room to herself. She made some cheerful devotion-vows often prematurely made, hastily remarks on the comforts they possessed, notwithtaken, and ever after regretted. standing my scepticism and credulity, on the appearance of so much "prison discipline." We had one proof that the fair sisterhood do not always fast as well as pray, for a most savoury vapor of goodly viands escaped from the lower regions of the establishment; but, probably, it was the day of confessional, and the ladies expected their pas tors to dinner.

After perambulating a well-selected library and the museum, which is enriched by the liberality of visitors with some natural or foreign curiosity, in zoology, geology, and conchology, we arrived at the hall door, and, turning round with a sweet yet sad expression, our interesting guide said, "Now, I will take you to see our last home." I felt a chill creep over me when she led us to an acre of ground, surrounded with yew, cypress, and willow trees, drooping over several black crosses of wood, simply denoting the last resting-place of some fair sisters. The calmness and resignation with which she looked and reasoned upon this melancholy spot, afforded a lesson of meditation and reflection to us all.

One of our party was a young lady who had been educated in the convent, as far as education could be given to one born deaf and dumb; consequently, the languages and music were lost to her. The only accomplishment which compensated for these was drawing, an art in which she excelled. With an intelligent countenance, an animated expression, and, by the help of the alphabet on her fingers, she explained that the Lady Abbess was the sister of a celebrated Irish barrister, eminent for his eloquence. We were shown into a plainly furnished reception room by one of the Sisters of Charity-a class of persons who do much good in visiting the sick and poor. She announced us, and immediately afterwards the Lady Abbess entered. I shall never forget how much I was struck with the appearance of this lady. I have seen all classes, grades, and costumes, but never before saw more elegance, ease, and beauty, in a more unbecoming garb. Her long robe was of coarse black stuff, girded round the waist by a leathern belt, from which depended the rosary. A white linen bandage encircled her fair The principal penance the nuns have to perform forehead, over which hung a long black veil is to educate three hundred poor children daily. no trace of hair was visible, and no vestige of out- Now, delightful as it may be " to rear the tender ward adornment; still, the gentle yet dignified thought" of one or two, yet, when it amounts to bearing of the lovely nun gave to this solemn and teaching three hundred "young ideas how to simple garb "a grace beyond the reach of art," a shoot" daily, I think the task must be any thing charm that was peculiarly interesting. Her fea- but "delightful." and that the ladies would require tures were pale and placid; she appeared about an additional bandage round the head to hear the five-and-thirty, and had been immured there seven-monotonous murmur and repetition of tasks-the teen years, without a hope or wish, as she asserted, if we could believe her, for emancipation, as, when once the veil is taken, the doors are closed upon the fair forever, for they are buried within the convent walls.

As English Protestants, we were shown every courtesy, and there seemed a wish to remove the gloomy idea we had formed of cloistered cells, dreary dormitories, and melancholy incarceration. I looked on the Lady Abbess with pity and regret as she moved with the grace of a gentlewomen before us, through the chapel, school, drawing and music rooms-the first decorated with foreign relics, paintings, and sculpture or scriptural subjects, the second covered with engravings and lithographs of the first masters, and the latter furnished with two piano-fortes, a harp and a guitar. She then led us past a row of shrines of the sisterhood, all beautifully decorated with fresh and fair flowers of their own cultivation.

On the crucifix of one was simply the small blue flower "forget me not." The lady of this shrine was kneeling beside the organ as we passed

drone, the hum, the noise, and the perpetual motion of so many children. Yet are they doing much good in educating and clothing the poor.

Early disappointment in the affections, deaths, deprivations, and family desertions, are (though the nuns will seldom admit so much) common causes of taking the veil. The beautiful part of life, the mutual and social affections, are destroyed by this selfish seclusion-and what is life without them? A blank, a shadow, a "world without a sun!" Pitiable, indeed, is that being who has not one link left to creation; then, is it not equally pitiable, that a withdrawal from the world of those who might have been amiable wives and valuable mothers, according to the will of the great Creator-is it not absurd that such beings are exempt, by their own folly, from sharing the bountiful blessings the Almighty has dispersed throughout the world for our good?

He that will not hear the admonition of a friend, deserves to feel the correction of an enemy.

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CHAPTER XXI.

Ostend.

CHAPTER XXII.

many other articles which suited him, and in about ten minutes, having made up his bundle, he FROM Spa to Liege, from Liege to Brussels, from made the gentleman a very low bow, and deBrussels to Ostend, how detestable it is to go over camped. But the gentleman had the use of his the same ground again and again! If the carriage hands, and had not been idle; he had taken an would only overturn, if I could but fracture a leg exact likeness of the thief with his pencil, and on or an aim, just by way of variety! Six weeks in his servant returning soon after, he despatched bed would be a novelty, even pain would be agree-him immediately to Bow Street with the drawing, able from the excitement. What a weary world and an account of what had happened. The likethis is, and what a rascally one! How delightfulness was so good, that the man was immediately a little honesty would be, by way of a change! identified by the runners, and was captured before Of all the rascality spread like butter on bread he had time to dispose of a single article. He was over the surface of the globe, certainly the butter brought to the gentleman in two hours afterwards, lies thicker on the confines of each territory. identified, the property found on him sworn to, There is a concentration of dishonesty at the ports and, in six weeks, he was on his passage to Boof embarkation and debarkation. Take London tany Bay. when you land from a steamboat, or Dover, or Calais, or Ostend. It is nothing but a system of extortion and overreaching, and which is submitted to. And why so? because in the hurry, the confusion, the sickness, and the ignorance of what is right, every thing that is wrong can be practised with impunity. These preyers upon mankind at the confines, remind you of the sharks in India, who always ply in the surf, where their motions cannot be seen, and the unwary are invariably their prey. I have knocked three down already, and one would imagine they would hasten for redress; but they will not, for that would take hours, and during these hours they will lose the opportunity of making their harvest, so they get up again and pocket the affront, that they may not lose time in filling their pockets. Talking about roguery, there was a curious incident occurred some time back, in which a rascal was completely outwitted. A bachelor gentleman, who was a very superior draftsman and caricaturist, was laid up in his apartments with the gout in both feet. He could not move, but sat in an easy chair, and was wheeled by his servant in and out of his chamber to his sitting-room. Now a certain well known vagabond ascertained the fact, and watched until the servant was sent upon a message. The servant came out of the front door, but left the area door open, communicating with the kitchen. Down went the vagabond, entered the kitchen, and walked up stairs, where, as he anticipated, he found the gentleman quite alone and helpless. "I am sorry, sir, to see you in this situation," said the rogue; "you cannot move, and your servant is out." The gentleman stared. It is excessively careless of you to leave yourself so exposed, for behold the consequences. I take the liberty of removing this watch and these seals off the table, and putting them into my own pocket; and, as I perceive your keys are here, I shall now open these drawers and see what suits my purpose." "Oh! pray help yourself, I beg," replied the gentleman, who was aware that he could do nothing to prevent him. The rogue did so accordingly; he found the plate in the sideboard drawer, and

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London, November. We have the signs of the times here. I peep through the fog and see quite enough to satisfy me that the country is unhappy. Money in plenty, but lying in heaps-not circulated. Every one hugs his bag, and is waiting to see what the event will be. Retrenchment is written up as evident as the prophetic words of fire upon the walls of Belshazzar's palace-To let-to let-to let. Leave London in any direction, and you find the same mystical characters every one hundred yards of the road. This beautiful villa, this cottage ornee, this capital house with pleasure grounds, this mansion and park-all-all to let. It is said that there are upwards of seven thousand of these country seats to let within twelve miles of the metropolis. Again, look at the arms of the carriages which still roll through the streets, and you will perceive that if not with a coronet or supporters, nine out of ten have the widow's lozenge. And why so? because they belong to the widows of those who died. in the times of plenty, and who left them large jointures upon their estates. They, of course, can still support, and even better support, the expense; but the estates now yield but sufficient to pay the jointure, and the incumbent swallows up the whole. And where are the real owners of the properties? At Paris, at Naples, at Brussels, if they can afford to be in a capital-if not, dispersed over Belgium, Switzerland, and Italy-retrenching in other countries, or living more comfortably upon their incomes. How many millions, for it does amount to millions, are now spent on the continent, enriching people of other countries, in all probability laying up for those countries the sinews for another war to be declared against England. How much of wretchedness and starvation has been suffered in our own country within these few years, which, if people had not been found abroad, might never have been felt! Where are the clite of our aristocracy? where are our country gentlemen who used to keep open house at their estates. disseminating their wealth and producing happiness? All driven abroad-society disjointed-no

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