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and like every other false thing, they punished might not interfere with your happiness! I now their possessor. I must bear the punishment, feel poor, in that I can do nothing for you." because I doubt not my former folly deserved it. “ You can do much for me!" returned Ada. For you a better lot is in store, because you have " A time will come when I, perhaps, may not be deserved it. Do not interrupt me, Agnes,” said so strong as I now am; a time when I may say, she, seeing her cousin about to speak. " I am in even as Christ did, Let this cup pass from me! no humor, I assure you, for bandying about com- then, be you the angel that will stand by me and pliments; and I say nothing but the barest truth strengthen me !". to-night. Let me speak, and do not interrupt me, Agnes folded her cousin in her arms, and wept for I have as much upon my heart as it will bear! on her bosom.

“I have for some time suspected,” continued “I have formed plans, as I told you," continued she, “that I had no longer any hold upon Mr. Ada, “ which will require strength to carry out. Latimer's heart; but that which we hold dear as I shall go to India to my brother; he loves me life, we part with reluctantly. To-day has set the tenderly; we shall be dear to each other as husquestion at rest. Mr. Latimer has declared his band and wife. The preparations for this long love to you ; do not deny it!”

journey, a journey which has many attractions for “ I do not deny it!” said Agnes.

me, and which, under happier circumstances, And you love him; neither can you deny would be very seductive to my imagination, will that!"

be very useful to me--will take me out of myself Both remained silent; anguish oppressed the —will, in fact, be my salvation. I shall now, hearts of both; but for the one there was hope, for from this time, look to India as to my home, and the other none; and yet, at that moment, it would centre the true love of my heart upon my brother. have been hard to say which suffered the most. I will have no one's pity, Agnes the world is to

“I could almost wish,” said Agnes, at length, know nothing but that it is my pleasure or my “ that I had never come to Lawford ; I have been whim to go abroad. I will see you married before like a dark cloud between you and your happiness. I leave, and I myself will be your bridesmaid. I feel as if it were almost an insult to say even And now, one thing more, and I have donethat I love you, and yet I would give up all for Keep in the innermost recesses of your heart the

knowledge of that which I did for Mr. Latimer's “ You must love me still,” said Ada ; “ deprived sake. It is enough that the benefit of that disciof your affection I should be very forlorn. You pline of mind, the blessing of your father's teachmust love me still ! you must not desert me, for ing, through his works, will be my reward, and my heart has suffered shipwreck! But I am not will support me, by the blessing of God, through going to make a spectacle of myself,” said she, every trial and every sorrow! And now, goodspeaking in her natural tone ; "I want no one's night!" pity. You have proved to me how well you " I shall not leave you,” said Agnes, “ until I deserve my confidence, and therefore I place still have seen your head upon your pillow.' more, still greater confidence in you. Do not Ada consented. Agnes smoothed for her the regret that you came amongst us. I have found pillow, and laid her throbbing temples upon it; in you the realization of that high principle, and and then, drawing the curtains, sat down beside that single-hearted goodness which your father's her till she slept. works teach, and I have learned more from you It was a feverish and disturbed sleep, and was even than from them."

the precursor of a long and sad sickness. We, These words seemed to humble Agnes; she wever, will not dwell upon it. The most untirfelt as if she must sink down at Ada's feet; but, ing love and devotion watched by her and tended feeling that words and actions at that time ex- her; and youth, and youth's strength, bore her pressed so little, she answered her only by silence, through it. which is often so expressive.

Three months afterwards, in the month of Sep“I have gone through a great deal," continued tember, she sat for the first time, once more in Ada, “ as you may believe; a great deal in a very the little library at tea with her father. Poor old short time. This day—what has it not revealed gentleman! how glad he was to see her again beto me, what has it not taught me! And Agnes, side him! Neither he nor the world knew exactly in the same way as my heart feels warmly, my what was the cause of her great illness. Many mind decides rapidly. My plans are all formed ; people supposed that she had taken cold at the the line of conduct which I must pursue is already fower-show. Mrs. Colville strenuously supported marked out, and I have already entered upon it. this idea: Ada, she said, was delicate ; the ground Late as it was, I had just returned from an inter- was damp after the great rains that there had been. view with my father when I came to you." and that dear Ada's illness was no more than she

“With your father,” repeated Agnes, both expected. Some people have such certain foreamazed and alarmed.

knowledge of everything! • I told him," continued Ada, “ what I had dis- It was not known, beyond the immediate memcovered of Mr. Latimer's sentiments towards you; bers of the Lawford and Latimer families, for some and I have won from him his entire approbation." months, that Mr. Latimer was the betrothed lover

The generosity of this conduct, knowing what of the niece instead of the daughter of the old self-sacrifice it involved, overpowered Agnes. She squire. People were very much astonished when covered her face with her hands, and wept; in- this knowledge first began to circulate among wardly beseeching God to bless, and strengthen, and them; but it was singular how very soon everycomfort one who had acted so unselfishly, so nobly. body was satisfied that it was quite in the proper

“Ah, Ada !” said Agnes, “how much more order of things; and this was only the more noble, how much more admirable are you than I! strengthened, because the whole family, and even and yet, I will not deny it,” said she, “1, too, Ada herself, seemed well pleased. But greater was capable of making a sacrifice for you. Let still was their astonishment, when the news went me confess also, I wished to leave Lawford that I abroad that Ada was going out to India, although not until after the two marriages, that of her brother think Mr. Latimer at all improved by his two Tom and of her cousin Agnes, were celebrated. years' absence from England : he has been in the

West Indies among the slaves, and in America And what said Mrs. Colville and her coadjutor, among the democrats, and he has bronght home Mrs. Sam, all this time? They said enough for some extraordinary notions ; and he is, with all his everybody else, had they all been silent ; but then great abilities, a dogged, determined man, whom they had sense enough to express very little dissat there is no turning. I have very much altered my isfaction to the world, seeing that they whom it opinion about Mr. Latimer! However, that is most concerned had settled all so resolutely before neither here nor there; and I am told that new they were consulted.

furniture is ordered for the drawing room. He • When my sweet Ada is gone,” Mrs. Colville, has had a London upholsterer and decorator down, however, said to her acquaintance, “and my and is laying out a deal of money; and yet he gets nephew has brought home his new wife, I shall not a penny with his wife! Poor Ada's picture, leave the hall. I do not know what will become that she leaves Agnes as her parting present, is to of my poor brother when I am gone," said she ; hang there: they have all been and chosen the but, new men, new measures; and my brother place. It seemed to me—God knows why!-as is not what he used to be. Poor man! he has if they were going to choose the place where she taken strange crotchets into his head. He talks was to be buried! A beautiful picture she makes! of sending for that preaching fellow, Jeffkins, to We have had Pickersgill down for a whole month : the hall—I hope by the by, that he is no relation he paints one for her father, too, and I must have to that creature who lived with Mrs. Sam !-and a handsome miniature. A beautiful creature she he has actually had that child there that Mrs. is-only a little paler than she was; and so cheerMarchmont took out of the workhouse, and has ful--it's quite wonderful! But she's a real been sending Mrs. Marchmont jellies and such angel; and it's a pity that she must leave old Engthings ! Poor man! his mind is certainly sadly land ! impaired ; it is my opinion that he hardly knows " And then I hear, too, that Mr. Frank Lawwhat he does; however, I leave all that—for there ford's widow is to come out of Scotland to see her will be a change, I know, when the new mistress daughter married. Bless me! who would have comes !

thought of Frank's daughter being Mrs. Latimer "And then, at the Hays, what a change, to of the Hays !" be sure! and, between you and me, I do not

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JAMES MONTGOMERY.

A FOREST-HOME IN SUMMER. My next personal recollection of James Mont- Would I might breathe the spirit of this hour gomery, is connected with a visit which I paid to Into a sweet, glad song! Would that my voice Olney, the sometime residence of the poet Cowper. Were gifted for a while with blessed power In the summer of 1838, I was on a fly-fishing ex- To move all them that heard it to rejoice! cursion in the neighborhood of that place, and Oh! if cold words were not, alas! all vain hearing from the postman, who brought letters to To picture forth a scene so gay, so fair, our party, from the post-office to our country quar- How many a loving lip should bless my strain, ters, that the poet Montgomery was there, myself How many a kindling heart my rapture share! and a friend, who had never seen him, took a walk to Olney the next day, to call on him. We in

Around me is a bower of light-green leaves,

And almond-scented blossoms, white as snow; quired for Mr. M., but no one seemed to be aware of his whereabout; and, as a last resource,

What wondrous fragrance the warm air receives went to the post-office, where we were informed

From those light branches, waving to and fro! that he would most likely be found at Syuire Cow-How, hour by hour, the soft round buds unclose per's school. To this place we proceeded. It

And shine in star-like beauty! how the bee, was a dwelling which Cowper had once tenanted,

Embowered in these sweets, forsakes the rose, and ever since it had been used as a village school,

And here, the live-long day, hums merrily! and called by his name. There we found Mont- And those fair roses with their clustered bloom,gomery, surrounded by the children, who were

The opening buds wearing their ruddy light singing that beautiful hymn of the bard of Olney, of youth, that fadeth as they near their doom, commencing with

Till e'en the inmost leaf is marble-white; “God moves in a mysterious way,

The jessamine, sweet parasite! is near;
His wonders to perform.”

The lavender breathes out its spicy scent:

Sweetly the varied odors mingle here, I had heard this beautiful hymn sung hundreds Like many sounds in richest concord blent. of times, but never with such effect as in that room, the very place in which, we are told, and Yonder the lime-tree, like a temple green, there is every reason to suppose with truth, Cow

Stands in its summer verdure ; who could say per composed it.

With what a glorious light the sun, at e’en, Montgomery received us very kindly, and we

Enwraps that tree, when every yellow ray visited together some of Cowper's favorite spots.

Has left in gloom the neighb'ring oaks ?—who tell It was highly gratifying to repair to such hallowed

How gracefully its branches wave, whene'er retreats, in the company of one who has been not

The all-awakening wind, with deepened swell, unaptly called the Cowper of our time. On leav

Calls forth the marvellous beauty sleeping there? ing, Montgomery kindly invited me to call on him, Far, far away, how calm and beautiful should I ever visit Sheffield, which I gladly prom- The sunny distance seems !-a land of hope, ised to do.

And promise, and delight, wherein to cull About two years afterwards, I was in that busy All lovely flow'rs of thought, and give free scope mart, and, remembering the poet's invitation, I de- To the soul's wandering fancies; for it lies termined to avail myself of it. I had no difficulty Half-hidden, half-revealed, and I can gaze in finding my way to The Mount, the name of his Upon its purple tints with gladdened eyes, residence, and was fortunate enough to find him Catching soft glimpses through the floating haze. at home. We had a pleasant talk together, and, after dinner he accompanied me to the literary in- | Those nearer beechen woods, the sunshine loves stitutions of the neighborhood, and it was quite

To vary their glad beauty, lingering delightful to observe with what marked attention At eventide to flood the highest groves and respect he was everywhere received. I no- With ruddy splendor. Many a busy wing ticed this to him, and said he must feel highly Throws a light passing shadow, many a sound gratified by it. “I am, of course,

," he replied,

Of joyful music bursts upon the breeze, “ but I have enemies. Not long since, some ras- | The while those deer to yonder heathy mound cals broke into my house, one Sunday, while I

Glide sofıly from the shadow of the trees. was delivering an address at a chapel in Sheffield, Near me the dial, with a wreath of flowers (Mr. Montgomery sometimes preaches among his

Twining about its foot, all silently own people—the Moravians,) and stole, among Marketh the passage of the silent hours : other things, a silver inkstand, which had been

Calm monitor, that ’neath this summer sky, given me by the ladies of Sheffield. However,

Amid this woodland gladness, witness bears he added, " the loss was but for a time, and proved to be the occasion of the greatest compliment, of time, and change, and all the human cares

Of things that here we else might oft forget,which, in my opinion, I ever had paid me. A

That, even here, have power to reach us yet! few days after my loss, a box came directed to me, and, on opening it, lo! there was, uninjured, the I had not meant to breathe of aught but joy missing inkstand, and a note, in which ihe writer In this my summer song ; but now a thought expressed his regret that he had entered my house Of care has come to dim, yet not destroy, and abstracted it. The thief said his mother had The bliss my soul from God's own works had taught him some of my verses when he was a boy, caught. and, on seeing my name on the inkstand, he first To them I turn again, and o'er my mind became aware whose house he had robbed, and Their influence steals : all shades of sadness flee, was so stung with remorse, that he could not rest | All earthly cares their galling chains unbind, until he had restored my property, hoping God And iny glad spirit as a child's is free! would forgive him.Boston Atlas.

Fraser's Magazine.

LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.-No. 77.-1 NOVEMBER, 1845.

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CON TEN TS.

PAGR. 1. St. Giles and St. James,

Jerrold's Magazine,

203 2. Jacobinism in the Nursery,

Chambers' Journal,

212 3. Latin Hexameter Machine,

Atheneum, .

214 4. History of the Nonjurors,

English Review,

217 5. Shooting Stars and Aërolites,

Chambers' Journal,

230 6. Feast of the Poets, for October, .

Tait's Magazine, .

234 7. Kidder's Residence and Travels in Brazil,

Spectator,

245 8. What If?.

247 9. Alexander Wilson's Poetical Works, .

Tait's Magazine,

248 SCRAPs.- Paris Academy of Sciences, 202— Trade of England, 211–The Press at Copen

hagen ; Royal Visiting ; Piracy, 216–Sciasconset; Copper in Australia ; Disease amongst

Fish, 229—Leeches, 244.
Poetry.-Edith Brathwaithe, 2014 The Lost Child, 202—The Lonely Tree, 213—Pimlico

Pavilion, 215.

.

66

EDITH BRATHWAITHE ; A TALE.

BY RICHARD TAYLOR, ESQ.* No piteous, melting tale is mine,

Of lordlings false and maidens frail ; Of sterner stuff my heroine,

A humble maid of Ennerdale.

A pair sat in a latticed porch

A stately youth, a radiant girl ; Young Edith, sempstress of the vale,

And Jocelyn, Raby's dark-browed earl. A hunter, or a fisher, he

Oft sought a noontide shelter here, With speech of gentlest courtesy,

And tribute from the hill or mere. In beauty, grace, how near of kin

This pair!-in soul, how far apart
Was he that virgin heart would win,

And triumph in his baleful art !
Sweet maid !-here rose with earliest dew

Her hymn, like bird-notes heard afar;
The carol rang, the needle flew,

While gleam'd her lamp, the Dale's last star. Cot of her sires! thou wast a shrine

By peace and labor sanctified ;
, And can she leave thy sheltering vine,

To glitter Raby's low-born bride?
Vain, perilous dream; fond, trustful girl :

The eagle mates not with the dove :
The bright gold of the sated earl

O'erpays the fallen rustic's love!
He clasps her waist, he whispers bland,
Bashful, but blest, she drops her seam :-
* Author of "Edinburgh Tales," &c.

13

Anon, and, see her quivering stand,

Like one smit by some hideous dream.
And this thy suit!" she clasp'd the blade,

Lay on the Ancient Book hard by ;
And calm, though proud, the maiden said,

“ This was a brave man's legacy ;-
A poor, brave man, who strove and died,

And left his child no ill-won hoard ;
Like him she gains her honest bread,

And scorns thy love, thou abject lord !
“Pass on-pass like the girlish dream,

That idly, fondly, would ally
Truth, manhood, honor, with thy name,

And generous thoughts with lineage high. “ Pass on-thy gold and gauds I spurn;

Foul price of woman's direst shame
Her barter d love-my bread I earn,

And bear to Heaven a stainless name."
She laid the blade “ The Book” beside,

The heir-looms of the Puritan;
And calm, though pale, her needle plied,

Ere thus the heart-struck earl began ::
“ Thou peerless girl! forgive, forget ;

Take state and rank, so be thou mine;
And ne'er sat Raby's coronet

Upon a nobler brow than thine.”—
“Ah, coronets weigh not 'gainst hearts,

Those priceless gems, the pure and strong ;-
Nor would I pledge the matron's vow,

To him who plann'd the maiden's wrong.
Pass on-and wed in thy degree-

I pardon, while I kiss the rod
Calls back my wandering heart to Thee,
My God, and my forefathers' God !”

Tait's Magazine.

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LIVING AGE.

VOL. VII.

THE LOST CHILD.

BY LYDIA JANE PIERSON.

Tell us, ye white-haired wanderers,

In life's dark desert ways,
Ye who have sowed your path with tears

So many weary days ;
Ought we to mourn for him who lies

In that wild dell alone;
Whose weary feet, and weeping eyes,

Have found their rest so soon?

ALONE, beneath the heavy shade

In forest, thick, and wild,
With timid eye and footstep, strayed

A poor bewildered child.
Along the cold swamp's weedy edge

He held his devious way,
Where coiled and hissing in the sedge,

The hideous serpent lay.
The demon wolf with cry of death

Leaped past him in the chase,
The wild deer lingered in his path

To scan the stranger's face.
And pale, and full of agony

That little face appeared ;
And terror filled his soft blue eye

At every sound he heard.
His yellow curls were bare and wet,

His little coat was torn,
And stains of blood were on his feet,

By reckless travel worn.
His little heart was sick with fear,

His brain was wild and weak,
And hunger's pain so hard to bear,

Had blanched his rosy cheek. And still by every mossy spot,

Where pheasant berries hide,
He sought-and when he found them not,

Oh! bitterly he cried.
Four days, that tangled forest through

He sought his home in vain,
Fond hearts were breaking there, he knew,

To see his face again.

Mother! oh, mother! was his cry,

Until his voice grew weak,
And throat, and tongue all parched, and dry,

And then he could not speak.
The silent shades are gathering now

With dark and dewy wings,
Forming in dell, and valley low,

Diin shades of fearful things.
His frame with curdling horror shook,

His heart grew cold as clay,
He crept into a sheltered nook,

Crouched down and tried to pray.
And then he thought that God was near,

To watch above his bed ;
And every agonizing fear,

And phantom horror fled.
The pangs of hunger died away,

And grief withdrew its sting,
And slumber o'er his spirit lay

Soft as an angel's wing. And then he dreamed sweet dreams of home,

With all its love, and bliss, The rural feast, the lighted room,

The mother's tender kiss.

Paris ACADEMY OF SCIENCES.- Sept. 8.—The most important communication was made by M. Pouillet, on the storm, near Rouen, of the 19th ult. The owners of the property destroyed, on that occasion, have brought an action for indemnity against the insurance companies ; assigning as the ground of action that the destruction was the result of electricity, and that they are therefore entitled to recover. According to the clause in their policies, which provides compensation for loss from lightning, (feu de ciel,) several reports, declaring that electricity was present in the storm, and that the buildings were thrown down, not by the force of the blast of wind, but really by an electrical current_and even going so far as to assert that fire was visible-have been received by the academy. The insurance companies, on their side, have not been idle. They have had recourse to M. Pouillet, as one of the most eminent men to whom on such a subject it was possible to apply; and that gentleman has made investigations on the spot -the result of which is, M. Pouillet says that electricity had nothing to do with the calamity in question. It is possible that the tribunal before which the claims of the insurers will be brought, will appoint a scientific commission to report on the subject.-M. Biot presented an apparatus which is used, in Germany, by the sugar manufacturers, to try the strength and character of their syrup, and also by medical men as a test in diabetic urine. It is of simple construction. It consists of two concentric prisms of nickel ; one of which is fixed, whilst the other, to which the eye is applied, is movable. They are separated by a tube, which is filled with the solution to be examined. The two prisms are so placed that the light polarized by the first may be refused by the second. The solution is now introduced. A colored object is seen, which is at first blue. The movable prism is then turned until the object is yellow. The angle of rotation to arrive at this tint gives, by means of a table, the quantity of crystallizable sugar contained in the solution.-M. Bourguy read a paper, to prove the existence of nerves in the serous membranes.-A paper was received from M. Matteuci on the electrical powers of the torpedo. He shows that the discharge proceeds from a particular part of the body, between the back and the belly--and not, as has been asserted, from all parts.- Sept. 15.-Several communications were received relative to the disease which has manifested itself in the potato.- A letter was read from M. de la Rive, on the possibility of rendering the electric light available for the use of workmen in mines. This gentleman states that five or six elements of a pile of copper and an amalgam of potassium sufficed to render incandescent two cones of charcoal inclosed in a small glass globe. Messrs. Ledoyen and Raphael announced that they had obtained a liquid of great utility, for the purpose of disinfections in the emanations from animal excretions, by dissolving 4 oz. of nitrate of lead in two pounds of water.--- Athenaum.

* The little face grew calm, and white,

His slumber still, and deepSweet boy, thy sorrows end to-night,

Thou wilt not wake to weep. Mother-he whispered languidly,

And hugged the dewy sod'Tis done, he wakes to ecstasy,

And sees the face of God.

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