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Blondel and Richard
COuur dleLeon.
ny17 S. A. STUART.
PART 1st.
A ftrin more active, light and strong,
Ne'er shot the ranks of war along,
'l'i modest, vet the minnly mien,
Might grace the court of inaiden titeen."
It was moonlight-n4sst pure and
lovely-hathiing mountain and valev,
river and plain-stootling oil' the
jggred and hairshi outlines tlat dy.
oight brought f.rth into glaring oofir
mity, and shading into sodtness, with
its veil of silver, beauties that were al
most too brilliant, when seen by the
light of the sun.
'T was a true lover's evening-jst
such a time as i, old hearts Speak best
of love, with the pale planet looking
downupne as s teo he h'lait ev edn
donuo ht ssehdee iebefore and since. It was now beamning
upon two beings, with hearts as loyal
and true as ever beat bltenth her r ,a.
Thetg gnle Alice nol~sd r Rbet'sfiir
ariideni, to k:eep her tryste- w'ith icer
lover here in the greenwood ; and the I
timid maid started every now andI
then as ti rustle of the foliage, stirred
by the night breeze, came upon her
lar-and her sweet lips tremtbled,
tough he, who now stood at her side,
holding the little hand ill his fond clasp
was a stahart fIr, ho stmed fully
capable to do his duty in protecting
the young maiden01.
" I miust u lste, else my good fAlher
will awaken,' said Ike sweet, tremiyong
voice. "Oh ! how I wish that he loved
you, and then you Could comes 'neathl
his own roof. Indeed, Sir Mlinstrel,
I like not these forbidden interviews."
"' Tis our last, gethtle Alice-at
least for a long timue," sighed the young
man. " Ere I again behold you, my
feet must travel over many a league.
So, give me some moments yet, whilst
I swear, beneath this pure light,. to
love thee ever as now, and to cling
toyour nemory, whether in court or
in camp. on the battlefield or at tour
nament-and to hold it as precious as
I now do the moments you so grudg
ingly grant Inc."
Not grudgingly. 'Do not say it,
for you know Full well how angered is
my father against you. Yes, certe !
though I be his only child, lie would
send me forth fromj his love as ingrate.
were he aw;are that I met you, l'!on
del. Oh ! you know all this, gentle
sit', buy' yon cannot say his hatred to
one 92'your calling ! iFurthermnore, lhe
djefars tatno vassal of'France shall
"And yet, ouir noble Ki~ng, I lichard,
he of'the Lion Iheart, for whomi your
father still mourns, and sighs to see
himt on his rightful throne, to the
crushing of the usturper Lacklantd
even he, my friend and master, is of
Norman blood-his mother a princess
of France. But, I blame not you, my
Alice ; an old man's prejudice is ever
strong. Only promise to lovec me.
and to keep fiiith with me, whilst I
wander forth in my pilgrimage. Smi e
on mie, my gentle onte, and pray our
lady, and the holy saints to have mue
in their holy keeping ; say, ini your
owni h1onied tones-'hste~t thee back,
to thine own Alice, for' site will not,
be light of love."
" I do bidl you hasten back, wh'len
gou have fulfilled yotur noble mission;
anid I need not tell yu thaiit my orisoni
shalhl ever be to the lloly Alotheri and1(
the btlessed sa inits, that you ma re.1)
tunsafel y to our liir counmtry- alas!
tierr ic .Ettghi no litnger ! liho, in
thie maruy lands y'ou mulst, tra veise,
gon w''l see f.-irer' mtuaidtns, wh'lo will
gladhly smile on tihe gallant imitrl
ti devted fiOlIriendi of' Enmglandi's capj
" Wl'hen the siln .'-hinii, wYe see nt
the stars-ev'en so will lmy love Itr
yon keep br'ight the miemiiiry of youir
gentle loiveliness; andi hinderil tie fromi
's,ta wing thliuhtmlt or g lanice, save Vinl
slt'h' be ti tutbo.le. iihe ':ihnee dl:itit
shall cherish your mennory both flnully
and proudIly ; and that through all Imiy
dreary pilgriinage, iny thoughts will
turt to your love, as my star of hope,
wishing no higher happier reward than
the right of claiming this little hand,
when EIngl:d-again the merrie
slhll see her Lion en the throne."
("hul grant it !" softly iurnmured
the maiden.
" Bless you, dear Alice, for that
prayer. And now I will call Margery
and go with you to the postern.
" Oh ! no, you mutst not go indeed.
It were safer by Ghr to let us speed
alone ; f an t. y ithter's huntsnen are
lurking about, and should they see
you. I dread the eonsequences. iet
us say fhrewell, even now; I pray we
may soot) meet under happier auspi
ces. If it will cheer you on your pil
grimage, know that you will ciarry eve
ry hope and every prayer of Alice of
Braniteyne along with y in; and, the
hiost joyful sound she can hear, will
be thy voice, when thou returtnest to
iny (outntrv,"
And tlhe loving, sorrowing maiden
bent her head inl tears on her lover's
bosoin, as they thus bade each other
nl1ieu in that old forest, 'neathi the
,moon's ruellow rays.
PART I .
" The Troubaionr, o'er m1fatny a plain,
Ilath roained unilweiari d, but in vain."
T:e still was sinking behind the
iurm-'eld hill. t'f' ( '-tmoly, whi- a
traveller, w :ry iln f~ot sure, stood
within the shadowv of a hug hattie
mlented pile, over the irate of w Itich
w0 shield lunig, as all invitation to nim.
he weary, to ent er. The heart efithe
ilLgrim sank sadly within him as he
azed around on the fhir scene, now
;orgeous witl the hues of the dying
lay and the rose tints thrown o'er
he water only served to remitind him
,f home, for distant. as I.vel v, and oh!
tow longed fur. lie "had wandered
till many a utile, seekint. fbr him
. .. h I~t :. fo.l t :n. - . t
low, toil. wrn. weary, and spiritless,
c stood-as I said before-in the
;ladow of the old l'rowning (astle.
\ horn hung near the gate, and restingI
etire he con d suin mnmn sullicieitt
lreatlh to wind it. he blew a blast.
nother-still aniother. No answer
mame to his sumiois-anod lie throws it
rom him, as almost exhausted he
sinks on a rook, just hathed in the
mn's parting hearms.
Oh ! Richard, my roaster, what
hae I not -icountered for thee ! and
yet 'tis in vain. Through the fhir
phiis of my native 'rovenee, in the
hostile land of France, have I sought
tidings, hut without :success ; aml now
my heart is sinking ,hopelessly within
me ; and I feel as if I could lay down
here--aye ! even here, beside these
inhospitaible walls, and die, were it not
for the thought of my fhir-haired Alice.
Sadly, most sadly, comes into my
mind the relelrbr:mee of our happiy
dlays, crc you, ily Kin". were wedded
to the stately Ierengai ia, or I had
knelt in homage at the feet of yii
gentle ladyclove, \ lice of brantevite.
Al ! joyous indeed, were those davs!
Andi, when tired with our nuire miiaiilv
sports, we seized the harp, and miale
the walls echo again with songs o
battle and of kiightly decd,. 'ven
nOWe, eXhalusted and tlespairini!, onie it
our olfaniliar airs is stravinig ithrouighi
mty brain, as if it, wouild (hinl havte
words.''
And thie ini strel unstrung fronm his
b~ack the simail dust-ceovered harp, o'er
w hicht his fmigeris wandered ill mielody.
wil, yet, beatifil, till at la-t breal
ing forth in, fuller amA more inspiring
notes, lhe joined to lhe accompilanimienit
the mausic of his mellow voice:
'' 'ITiine hour is come, and lie staike is set,
'lThe Soldan~ cried to the capt:ive Kiiight
And the sonl sot thet i rophe&t, ini th.o .gs, are
Iniet,
'ITo gaze on thie feairfuli ighi~t
Bt, tbe our faith. by your hips confese:cd
The faith of Meeca's shrineC,
Cast down tie red cross t hat miarks thy vest
And life shall yet he thine.'"
TIhe mlinistrei patused ini his son~g,
and swept the striniigs ini ai nelodlious
symph.~onyv, for it was the pice where
his kingly corDpii n 4.1liustafly chii imed
with the refrain.
I ark ! whait soundi comte -now to
his ear ? I-s it, (lie sigh ing ofthle eve
ne-s, thus brooing over the niemory
of the hi''art, has1 shiapedl its symp1 at hy
inito the follow ing thiiitly echi.edt words
thait are now borne on the quiet sum1
mler air:
" I liav e seen i tie flo w of ii mhsomi's blood
Aiti gaz~ed with undaiedtIi eye;
I hiae t ornie t shri'e bt cros thro(li' fire and
I ha~ve stood whesire thouis:liik; by 8.iem's
Iliave fallen for the faith divie,
Andil tthe faith, that rc'redf their clo-sing'
houiirs,
nolw piale mnolt trembinig with th le re
ii4Awal of hoiije. " (ian it. h( 1 it
imy King that I have at last discove
ed ?" And gasping with new ardo
and clanting forth with renewe
strength the third stanza, in orde
again to hear the refrain, and thu
give certainty to his awakened hope :
" Art thou the sun of a noble line,
In a land that is liair and blest !
And dost not thy spirit, proud captive pin
Again on its shores to rest !
Thi ine own is the choice to hail once mtr
'I'he soil of thy fathers birth,
Or to secop, when thy lingering pang; arc
o'er,
Forgotten, in foreign earth.''
lie paused. Again is the strali
caught ip ! This time, so loudl v an<
distinctly to his expectant car, that h
ean(ot think it the sighing of the breez
or his own iinngination :
"I'heri' are hearts that sti'l, thro' all the
past,
Inciangingr, have loved moe well
There are eyes, whose tears were ,t reari
inr fast,
When I hie my homie lareweil
Ilut better they wept o'cr the warrior's bier
Tihan the Ap state's living strain ;
i itre's a and, where thise who love(
when here,
Shall !meet, to love again.''
'is be. Thank (God ! My prine
-liy king "--And could A lice have
seen himt in thanktiness prostrate himt
'elfI, she' would have still better loved
the nolrle heart in whom she trusted
Now, with his whilone weary eye
ialianit with joy, he tore a seraf, o
ptar'hmeiiint fromn his scroll upon which
be treibIlingly traced worIs of hopi
:nni cheer, then attaching it to the ar
mow. provii e I as a iiuienet ger, lie sel:
it whirling through the air, now so still
ito tile casemven t., from whence he
heard the song and where lie had jnst
eei the scarf waving.
Again camne that sigh f rth, as he
tood gazing, with his heart on his lips
No sooner did his eve catch the first
lutter of the silk, than he turned to
wails the north, atd sped on with re
sewed st rcngt h, and :t heart nerved t<
my endr:nice for England.
On tie scrip he had penined
save thy searf, and I will back to Eng
and at oinco, to ransom thee with
crliadl pieces, or stir ui thy ruourniin
unl i ithlifdI people to redeeii tlei
0% '42ed ti,(ulrarcl wViih the sword.
In hiaste, thy fidthtiil servalit.
et 1r1oND1:..:
P.\~ritt i.
.!he'ard ;!hol he rhtll h ri rowne
\huic in sand Iin leftane rhetvc round
And a thousaiid harps, with t' sheal! r:ng
When :nerrie linglhiu hais her king.
Once niore in the duin old wood:
were the lovers met: but this tiun
tis not toi witness how those tim<
hearts speak ; but, to see how old Si.
Robert. of liranevne, greets his kini'
and lutch loved soiereign, R(iehart
Plantagenet, surnamed the Lion-heart
IlIe approaches the old baronial man
,ion, with a chosen retinie of Ibravc
hearts. and true, that have scarcely let)
his side since his arrival from his priso
keep, ihr in the forests of (ern:ny
On his right rides an old noble, full o
yeairs and of honors ti nii: left hi:
fitithtiel tin-streh-friend. loi.dle. 110
htital rodle other nobiler and his Mer
a'-:rios.
Now 'e do . ;: thze trouililltir it
his tat't ri edl, travl-.taintedil dioibh t arm
wo ini (lit sard als, Iut e:isel bravely it
pulrleL aial gold--wiith his laces, I
jewe-ls, his phiinnes, :ied perius-lo
ire conwts thus drnehy decked (ort t
w'on 1ar his bi h- the tiri Alice. NO
corneis lie empty4 hi'iiiled to do his wi,
kirng has givein him i broa huii 111Is, art
riebi. mial hie now rble -ide hv~ side
speedt him inii hi- sutt
Anrd thle:e, ini coveredl mateway, b
lie siehe of her fit her, '-timids the gei
tle ldy of his [eve, wvith sumiles ani
h!ushies flit tinig o'er lier sweet. (hee, rt
she stands to greet her sovere-ign.
Th*Ie qulick(3 eyeto love has niote
liidel as lie thus rides; and her lit tI
hiemi , is heating rapturously at thi
thouight, of t his mecetirg. 'Thou"h Ii
couritesy and~ fe'alt~y her knee is bowe
to thle kin,. yut her womlaii's heart1
hent.i Ii hurnbleness to weleoiiic hc
mn'ins/rtl b ack to Enigland, an~d he
hove. Yes : though ilihard lbe well bh
hbved, and claimr~ the f/rs/ words froi
thone coral Iip s,yvetIe he irlshes ha
siles of w eome are the mieed <
lier hieart's soveiriigi anid lover.
"' Aly own A lice "-he has whispe(
ed, ini tonecs the echo (of ant l'oliani harj
0Si oft, so ejSWeet-" I )os:t t hout, it
deced, joy to see ime back in your in
land ? And al i Inow elaiii thy Ii
tle hiarnd as imy birighitest rewardlU
" Au-t weilcoeuat thou, the trurst
an I siincere, tu-.lan~li I and iiy hiaml
butt, thou well liu''vest, that t honih
love thee enii irely, y et itnuot, I
youi taike t hat which is rmy fhthrer's
liest ow. I hit, see ! 'The king is no
tin g on, andl we niiiist i b iow."'
Ando into the wide ol hall did th<
all go, with its roarling fires peil hi;~
aiih thieeingly, and where thec
king seated himirelfiin the chatir of ati
arranged by the hospitable old knight.
" Aly ol friends," said thle kinig,ad
dressing Sir Rolcrt, who stood in at
r teinlaiice. " It gives niC touch joy to be
nider thy goodly roof once again-our
- lady and the good llondel be thanked
-and if thou wouldst still add to the
measuic of iiiv contelnt, grant me one
request. Sec, I di not comnidn.iiiI as a
king, but carnestli entreat is thy
Sfriiend."
()"h ! m liege, speak not tihes !"
depreented the kuidit., as he essayed to
bend hik knee, but, was prevented by
I i:liaid. "lhou knowest full well
that, I and all that I have belongeth to
thee, to dh as thou wilt, now and at
all tines."
"Sayest thou tlis in good sooth ?'
replied the king. " Then be not an.
"ered. that, I dispose of one parcel ac
cording to ily wsThes. lH there !
.oiie one sununor the Lady Alie.
And come hither Ilso, rlly geud Illon
dcl, fir I have a tfi;isu.i d , i I wou-m
fain pay, even t hogi it be by poach
ing on anothcrs pro rty."
here the rustlini of silk, and the
slight, quick step & timid love, and
the Lady Alice is Ihanding before the
king, with her ight curls floating
around, veiling hd fauir, blushing face,
antd by her side heels the dark-hued,
but handsome iistrel of Provence,
whose noble ioro, in its pride and
strength, seems liie the oak to the ten
(1ril. when comnpacd with the fragile,
shrinking maideni The king, rising,
joins their hands, 'id speaks the word
of betrothal era t amazed old father
has the power to T).terrupt them.
And then how could hi remrain in
anger with that gent4" girl, whose dove
like, pleading ey's, are swimming in
tears of hope -id ahppiiess, as she
loiks up to him ! le looks at llon.
dcl ; he allows to pass in review
through his mind iis constancy to his
idolized Alice ; his quitting her volun
tarily, to fulli! wth zea! his noble nil
grinage, despairing, yet still clinging
with the tenacity- of devotion, to some
shadow of se.47 n he must
reward. And shall b, Robert of
lranteyne,-always foremost in fealty
and homage-shalf he he Inwilling to
give his part, in recompence to his
Sovereign's deliverer i
lie again looks upon the pair, and
his heart sattr: still more, as he catch.
es the look -f tenderest. devotion,
whicii llondei i-ows up in the .uiw
.irl. A cting, fl oim these miiotiv-s, he
r -lalce the tiny hani of his chii in
hat of :lie not',. nii'nst el, saving:
"Tal:e, then the re-:1d of thy do
vItion t< thy :.g. and 0f thy cons.t:atn
cy to thy lady love. Aly prejudice
must. vanish before the weight of my
gratitude. lay the prayer of her
father be answered, that henceforth
ye mr.ay be a happy as your pire love
and loyalty deserve."
And the old hall echoed again mid
again with a glad shout. unrestrained
even by tho kingly presence; and
manya Iua:s:ail Iowl was drained that
dlay, to thle health of the brave ruinstrel
and his la iv lo ve, fair Alice of 1Iran
Tran .t. ! r':c" "re rvts ri .11p/1.: ..liu rr.
The Little Mysteries of
4rcamt UWriders.
S.ome excito their brains hv means
.ci:n. lik e a steain engine. l Ie fires
u its th in nng ndolyg>e u
I' eth- retreat in thle st reef. I'L epiie cre,
Iin-gs were :.* t las raudiani .vithi lighti
tile ftaiili pot whlo bieggedl his (-at ft
Ilend lim i then grn (u1 ire of its e ysb
wh~ iich to write.
\'ietr H ug-i, when lie dwelt, in Par
i-, miade nearly a ll hsverseswhl
3jpriienmiIiingr ah~il theL cainail, liea h
e b each of the .Isle of J1ersey, that ht
n laboris anmiid the wild screams of th<
Ssea gulls.
3 Janin, fhe fim 011shulttle hiroself up
r coij uses ii theI iiidst of ci-'nveriaioni
r and wuhile talkii4, of -omiethinig else.
laL~ae lived duiring thie da~y lik<
thfie rest oif the wor'ld-lie looked, he~
l i-tenied, lhe talked with his friends
d but said niothing resembilling his writ
ing!s; he was gayv ;nd fill of haughiter
I Ic e ent, to bed at six---rse at mlid
., iiighit and drian k ai cup~ (ioif cee. Theri
i- he was eindiied wiith a double capiacity
ri --then lie bee:inne hulninlins-h-Ie knew~
.everytIhinlg- thien lie revealed all ht
hadl (b serived- lien lie expen ded w hat
y lie hadl gathlered din g the day-ftner
;lhe sketched thlloe admiirabile pictiire
I anid diseli sedl fthi '- sfaritlinig revela
d ti'os. 11 is dife af dea-,.hi:
o tnight-life~ a reality.
wv As rot. Alhexmiler iDutmas, I believt
lie had no rec.'sos to any secret man
y no-i vre. ie n( iever stoppedCh~--hie wr-ot
Ii andI talked with eqjual aniimationt.
diX lien lie set to work, Ito t ok (ill'hh
L'. coat atal his gallowse.-lite a .a
stripping to fight-and then ho neve
paused. I remember going to se,
him one day at Havre, at the ilote
Frascati. Ho went down with me it
the garden ; I left him a moment t<
speak to an acquaintance. When
came back, Dumas had returned t<
his desk, resumed his unfinished line
and completed some dozen besides.
Nothing ever disturbs him.
I do not know how Laimartine corn
poses ; I sup~pose he dictates. In 18-I
when lie had purchased by so great ar
outlay of devotion, latigue and danger
the ingratitude of France, I went often
to see him in the morning a little be.
fore day. I always found hin in the
bath, and more than once, he said such
beautiful thiigs, si grand, so admirably
expressed, that I took pen and paper
and wrote them down as he spoke and
left them on the table. France could
not, I thought, aflord to loose sneh
brilliant creations, and I fncied to
10 v.-.tt ttI-,*Q11 a.j,6, IIl"rr, ;)to nf
I learn from one twho was itI mfL3
with Chateaubriand, that he had a very
singular method for creating that ex
citeuent of the brain, which most
writers seek through the aid of tobac
co ; he would promenade bare footed
on the cold marble floor, and thus the
same sort of irritation of the mucous
membranes which proceeds cold in the
head was produced.
There are some who take other
people's books and diligently copy
thea!"
IWIANKLIN AS A BOOBS ELIAt,
The following story, of Frankllni'
mode of treating the animal, called in
those day's ' lounger,' is worth putting
into practice occasionally, even in thie
age and generation :
one line morning, when Franklir
was busy preparing his newspaper for
the press, a lounger stepped into th<
store, and spent an hour or two look
ing over the books, &e, and finally
taking one in his hand,- asked the shop
boy the price.
'One dollar," was the answer.
-' ar,' slid the lounger, 'can'
you take le:,:, enn, ,.hc..y
'No, indeed one dollar is tre price.
Another hour had nearly passed
when the lounger asked, 'Is Mr. Frank
lin at home?'
'Yes, he is in the printing oflice.'
'I want to see him said the loungc
The shop-btoy immediately informe<
Mr. Franklin that a gentleman wa
in the store wanting to see him.
Franklin was soon behind the counter
when the lounger, with book in hand
addressed him thus:
'Mr. Franklin, what is the lowes
you can take for this book.
'One dollar and a quarter,' was th
ready answer.
'One dollar and a qnarter? Wh
your young man asked only a dollar
'True said Franklin, 'and I coul
have better afforded to have taken
dollar then than to have boon take
omit of the oflice.'
The lounger seomn'ed st'-prisel, a
wi-hing to end the parley of his o\v
making said, 'cone, Mr. Franklir
tell ne what is the lowest you e
take for it.
'One dollar and a half.
- (hne dollar and a half? Wihy, yo
'f0'e-red it you self for a dollar and
quarter.'
'Yes,' said Franklin, 'and I had be
ter have takenm that rice then, thanm
dlollair und. a haelf niow.
Thle hmniger paid down the prie
and w~ent about his business-if' he lha
aniy-anid Franiik liin retu-ned into tI
prinitinig ohiee.
A I ha('I-HrEAnnn.: YuLLYrN.-TlP
Slunitsville (Texas) ltemis say-s:"
man11 named John M. D~owling carri
hero a feve weeks ago to work as
tailor-, with II. M. Clopton, of' 01
town. Ie is a native of' J3rookly
N. Y., and wvent to Mur'freesboro
Treunn.. sonie years ago, where he ma
ried a yotung lady of weaCilthy connlo
ions, named Miss Mar'y Smith. TI
lady acquir'ed sonic property f-rm he
relations, ini the way of negroes, and
the two concluded to conie to Trexa
the slaves were sold, and Dowling i
taiuied theo monecy. They had oi
child, since dead, and the wife is no
encientec. A week ago, D~owling gatl
cered all the'mnoney anid other valuabhe
of his wife, and sloped, leaving lhi
per-f'etly destitute, ie went tio Ne
O)rleanis, andl is thought will go bat
to New Yoirk. lie is about five i'et
nine inchehs high, sal low comiplexio;
andt the point of' his proboseis loot
towvards thme heavens, as if it scornc
connectioni with his rmouth. Hfow ti
lady ever caine to mimory him, is
mystery to us, for she is a very han
some11 woman. lhut ther- is no accouni
ig for I art e. W hat efh'ct, lhe had lef'.. h
were sold a fewv days ago, and a for
was raised by Miessrs. lhinf'ord mr
Clopton, eniouigh to send lien back
her' f'rienids. She left in the stage <
- WVednesday, a broken-hearted, dest
ted(, pluindered woman.--Edgflel A
rT c Bea~tatif launiac.
3 " T Mn fire that on my bosons preys,
Is lone as some volcanic Wso,
No torch is kirdleid at its blaze
A funeral pile."
In the morning train from Peters
burg, there was a lady closely veiled,
in the same car with ourselves. She
was dressed in the purest white, wore
gold bracelete, and evidently belong
ed to the highest classes of society.
I1er figure was delicate, though well
developed, and exquisitely syrnetrical;
and when she occasionally drew aside
her richly embroidered veil the glimpse
of the features which the beholder ob.
tamed, satisfied him of her extreme
loveliness. Beside her sat a gentleman
in deep iourning, who watched over
her with unusual solicitude, and several
times when site attempted to rise, he
excited the curiosity of the passengers
by detaining her in her seat.
Outside the ears all was corifusion ;
passengersLQpjing! to baggage, porters
useal hurry and bustle aittetiathg
the departure of a railroad train. One
shrill warning whistle from the engine,
and we moved >lowly away.
At the first motion of the car, the
lady in white started to her feet with
one heart-piercing! scream, and her
bonnet falling olF disclosed the most
lovely features we ever contemplated.
11er raven tresses fill over her shoul
der, and clasping her hands in prayer,
she turned her dark eyes to heaven !
What agony was in that lonk ! What
benoty, too, what heavenly beauty, had
not so much of misery been stamped
upon it. Alas ! one look told a mel
ancholy tale.
she was changd
As by the sickness of a soul ; her mind
Iid wanderel fron its dwelling, am her e'es
They Imd not their own lustre, but the look
W hich is not of earth ; she was become
The queen ofa fantastic realm ; her thought"
Wert combinations of disjointed thiings,
And forns, inpalpable and unperceived
Of others right, familiar were to hers."
Her brother, the gentleman in black
was unremitting in his efforts to soothe
her spirit. lie led her back to her
seat; but her hair was still unbound
t and her beauty unveiled, The cars
rattled-on. and the passengers in groups
resumed their conversation. Sudden
, . ly a wild melody aros. ; it was the
- beautiful maniac's voice,'ricl, full, and
inimitable. Her hands were crossed
on her heaving bosom, and she waved
. her body as she sang with touching
l pathos
-'She is far from the land where her young
- hero sleeps,
, And.lovers around her are sighing,
But coldly she turns from their gaze and
weeps,
For her heart in his grave is iying !
"She sings the wild song of her own native
plain,
Every note-which he loted awaking
Ah ! little they think, who delight in her
strains,
How the heart of the minstrel is breaking.',
lier brother was unmanned, and he
wept, as only man can weep. The air
changed, and he continued
] " Hlas sorrow thy young heart srhaded,
As clouds o'er the morning fleet !
Too fast have thoso young days faded,
That even in sorrow were sweet
1 If thus the unkind world wither
Eacb feeling that once was lear
Comte, child of misfortune ! come hither,
i I'll weep with thee, tear for tear."
a She then sang a fragment ofthc
beautiful hynmn
"Jess, lover of my soul,
r Let me1 to thy hosom fly.''
Ano thier atteinpt was made to risc
pwsprevented, and she threw her
'. self on her knees beside her br-other,
e and gav-e him such a mournful, entreatl
ing look, with the plaintive '"Sav-e me,
my brother ! save your sister !" thai
e cearcely a passenger- could refr-ain fr-om
Sweeping. We say scarcely, for ther<
e w~as one man (was lie a man ?) whc
a called on the conductor to "put bei
rm out the ears." Hie receiv-ed the opet
~, scorn of the company. His insensi
', bility to such a scene of distress al.
r- most defies belief; and yet this is, in
c- every particular, an "o'er tr'ue tale.
e Shvauld he ever read these lines, may
mr hzis marble heart bo softened by the
mrecollections of his brutality!
s, Again, the poor benighted beauty
raised lher bewitching voice to one of
e the most solemn, sacred airs:
" Oh where shall rest be found,
Rest for the wveary soul." .
is
ir And continued hetr melancholy chai
v until we reached the steamer- Mouni
k V'ernon, on hoard of which wve de
Lsconded the muagn ificenit James Rivter
the tunhappy brother and sister occu
s~ pying the "ladies cabtin." llis was
d a sorraowv too profounid for ordinar3
me consolation ; and no one daire intrudt
a So far upon his grief as to satisfy hhi
j. curiosity.
t- We were standing on the promen
r tade deck, admiiring the beatutiful scene
d ;y of the river-, when at one of the
d landings, the small boat pulled away
to ftrom- the shore with the unhappy pair
n en route fo'r the asylumn at --. Sh<
*r- wvas standing erect in the stern of thi
d- , boat, her white dress and raven tress
es flittering in the breeze..-Tha boa
h.' .F" filtJ
returned, and the steamer moved on
for Norfolk. They were gone! thlat'
brother with- his broken heart,- that
sister with her melancholy union of
beauty and madness.--Courier.
Ko-IMME11i slain ill tkea
Fieid..
It seems that this is not a fret self'
governing people.: It seems that the
executive and legislaitvo officers cos
en by the people of this countif have
to answer fbr their official acts at the
bar of Europe, and that M. Kossuth'
is the high presiding functionary at
that bar. The most august legislative'
tribunal in the world, the Untited States"
Senate, in the exercise of undisputed
powers-powers not questioned in this
country-is taken to task- by that
notorious individual for its refusal to
ratify the nomination of Mr. Sanders
as consul to London. le has ad.
dressed ;t long letter to a gentleman of
this country. to oaerate pno .1a, .
We yield to no one t' the- most
affectionate kindness to Mr. Sanders.
No of - could nore rejoice athis pros
perity and happiness than ourselves;
none could more regret the occurrence
oft ;thng tending to injure or to'inor
tify him.
Bint our relations to Mr. Sanders
cannot in anywise alhct our estimate
of the officious interference of ang
European power, or any European
prince, leader, or demagogue with the
affairs of this government.
By what right does Kossuth seek to
influence the counsels and the actions of
this government? He is not a native
of this country-he is not a natural
ized citizen. His home is in Europe.
His interests and ambitions are all
there. When a fugitive and a wonder
er, he was welcomed to our shores
like a friend, and wasfeted like a prince.
IHis progress through this country was
a succession of triumphs. Cities
opened their gates to him with glad
ness, and their populations flocked to
greet him. Our hearts poured out to
him and his attendants the sincerest
sympathy, and o-r treasures Were be
stowed with lavish prodigality. His
only feeling towards us should be one
of gratitude,
But how does he requite our kind
ness? He returns to Europe and
writes letters designed and calculated
to dissatisfy our adopted citizens wiih
the actions of our governnent. Ie
seeks to transfer to our peaceful shores
the strifes, the wars and convulsions of
Europe. A wanderer from his own
country, without crown, sceptre, office
cr power, he erects himself into a mon
arch over the foreign apul'aton of the
United States, and haughtily issues
his orders and his edicts to them.
Does he forget that his contrymen
here are free? Does he forget that
they have solerrnly renohced their
allegiance to all foreign kings, princes,
potentates and powers, and taken the
oath of allegiance to this free country?
Ile treats them as if they were a for
eign host, encamped a'mongst us to
c. ury out European views and pro
jects. He seeks to influence, in favor
of his plans abroad, the votes they have
acq'ui-d in right of their naturaliza
tion. lie seeks to. prejudice thum
against the United States Senate,
because that body has not thought fit
to act as he would have them act.
We believe that M. Kossuth, wheni
amnongst us, did more by his vanity,
his ostentation and his officious in
solenice to i njunrc the cause of European
repubnhlican progress in this country,
than all the despots of Europe could
do. IHe alighted amongst us as a god;
lie departed from ths A humbug. lie
went up l ike a sky-rocket; he caime
down like a stick.
Wash*ington Sentinel.
STIjIJLANTS OF GREAT MENi.
It is interestimig to notice the difl'er
ent articles which have been taken by
eminent men, as stimulants of' mental
faculties. It is interesting as showing
hmow dimetricaily Opposite means may
procure tlie same effet in various sys
tems ;- and it is interesting as showing
how much the mind symp~athizes with
the body. Ialer dIrank plentifully of'
water when he wished for great activit.
ty of the brain ; Fox, for the same pur
pose used brandy. The stimulants of
Newton and lHobbs were the fumes
of tobacco;- those of P~ope and Fonte.
nello, strong coffee. Dr. Johnson at
one pecrioid of his life, was a great
wine drinker ; but in the latter part of'
it, found stroing tea a good substitute.
Don Juan is said to have been written
mmder the infhuonce of' gin and wat-er,
and it is reported that a certain legal
lord of great learning and taletit plica
himself' hard with port when he wishes
to shine. Pitt was a great drinker of
wine; Sheridan, also, was fonid of his
bottle. D)r. Paris tells us, tat wheni
Mr. Dumi~ wished to make an.etra
ordinary dispa of eloquence, ho al.
ways put a - ster p laster on his cheat
a few hours beOfore hie was to aj)Ofak in
order tiint it might tiriate the Trjain~
by sipathy during hIs snaach 4