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Alice bade her sister adieu with yearning as strong as the day I left you, dear papa, sympathy. Your lot, thought she, will soon and they will never be less than they are be mine-may you have not less of love now; and even if I should have a home of than will be my portion !

my own, like Charlotte, I would often come Had

you been endowed with prescience, to visit you, my dear father. I should feel Alice, it had shortened your dream of sweet as if I had two homes then.” delusion-it had robbed you of the reality The old man sighed. of short-lived bliss; but, perhaps, it had “God forbid," said he, " that a selfish not saved you froin the tragic sequel. He parent should wish to delay the day when who has created man with a view to his his child may be well settled and provided weal, has not so endowed him.

for because he is loath to lose her." Alice was not the only person whose Alice hastened to the piano—she would emotions had been moved at the wedding. I divert his thoughts, which seemed too Charles Duncan was also there, and as he gloomy. She played him a cheerful air, looked upon the lovely girl whose heart was an old favorite at the rectory, and he, fallall buried in the service, his admiration was ing into the strain, accompanied her with increased. He asked himself, Will these the words which were set to it. important words one day assume ienfold Charles Duncan came in to tea the next interest, because it shall be that solemn evening. and endearing occasion when they shall be “ I am going to town two days hence," pronounced between ourselves ? He felt said he, " to commence my career in life, how sincerely, how earnestly, he should and I am come to bid you farewell, and to make the promises which they require. pass the evening with you if you please.” He was too much overpowered to join the Feelings different with each, but strong breakfast party. He, indeed, determined and powerful with all, were stirring in the that he would not trust himself to see much souls of those three persons that evening. of Alice till the day drew nearer when he The parent was musing upon his bridal might address himself to her, with some daughter's prospects, and upon the day hope, as her suitor.

when he should be left in utter isolation. Mr. Penryn joyfully bore off his bride, Alice had her own sweet dreams, broken and Alice was alone with her father. upon by saddening thoughts of her father

“You are my only child now, Alice,” | left in loneliness; and again dreamed, said he, as he fondly patted her cheek; again to be so broken. And Charles, all "your sister is gone, and your brother, hope, and love, and tenderness, was boundwhen he leaves the university, will entering in anticipation of the future. They on a profession. You must be the comfort talked together of Charles's prospects, and and joy of my old age, and, my child, I will of old days, and old scenes, and of many a pay you back richly with a father's love; stroll, and of many a conversation, in we will bless each other. I will grow which they had all shared, and in which young again that you may not feel the loss Charlotte, too, had had her part. They of young companions, and you will be ten- were sauntering in the garden, and looking der to my infirmities. You have lost none at pet plants. The rector had entered the of your simple tastes, I trust, by your resi- house for a gardening book, an authority dence amongst the great?"

which had been referred to concerning the Poor Alice! how should she broach the cultivation of a new creeper.

Charles subject of her return? She determined on seized the moment, and, turning to Alice the moment to deser it. Duty and affection with an expression in which his whole soul both told her that she must give her father was in his countenance, he said. time—that to leave him just now would be “Miss Swinton may I hope that I have to make him feel his desolation. It was your approbation in leaving my uncle's not without some misgiving and a sense of house, and seeking to carve my way to insadness that she looked forward to the day dependence—that I have your wishes for when he would be left at his fireside lite- my future success? I shall meet all the rally and permanently alone; his partner difficulties in my path with tenfold spirit is in the tomb, and his children all gone from I may believe that it is so.” him.

A glance sometimes speaks more than She answered, cheerfully and fondly, words; that glance had revealed to Alice

“My affection for my simple home, and all the depths of Charles's soul-it had said for my good, kind, tender father, are just more to he than the most eloquent declaration, and with not less of certainty than that conceived, mingled with this; her whole would have done. She was at once touched heart was given to Lord Arthur, and no and grieved, by the secret which it told. doubt concerning his purposes, no doubt

Alice was a kind and generous being; concerning the depth and permanency of now how she should save him future pain--his affection, crept for one single moment how prevent a fruitless pursuit—how give into her mind. the understanding clear and explicit, that Alice, when she wrote to Mrs. Newby an he could never approach her by any nearer account of her sister's wedding, had begtie than friendship? How do all this, and ged that lady not to urge her kind inviyet not compromise herself? Her dignity tation to her to return till she had given a and modesty must forbid her to recognize little time to her father; for, she said, the the truth which a mere look had spoken; loss of his eldest daughter must be broken yet it would be cruel indeed, and little akin to him, she could not leave him to utter to the kindness of her disposition, to allow solitude at once. It was not, therefore, unthe continuance of a hope, which, the long- til three weeks after the wedding that Mrs. er cherished, would entail but the more Newby wrote hoth to Alice and her father, bitter disappointment when the day of ex- requesting her return to Newby Grange. planation should arrive.

The father sighed as he acceded to the She paused a moment, in hesitation and proposal, but no sigh escaped from Alice. distress, blushed deeply, and replied, - She had begun to seel the time long which

“ You need hardly ask me, Mr. Duncan, kept her from her lover, and her heart if I wish you success; we are old friends bounded with pleasure in the prospect of and acquaintances, and I very sincerely meeting him again; he doubtless would be and heartly wish you that: but as for my there, and as she thought of this she forgot approbation

her father's solitude. Charles looked anxious.

The travelling day arrived. Mrs. New“You cannot wish me success and with- by's carriage (sent to fetch her) stopped at hold approbation," he said hastily.

the door. Alice's heart a little sank as he “No-let me finish. As for my approba- handed her in, and, kissing her tenderly, tion, it is of little matter to you whether it said, "God bless you, my child, and grant is given or withheld; the opinion or the us soon to meet again." approbation of a mere girl can be of little She followed him in thought to his soliimportance to manhood in taking the great tary room and his evenings alone, and her steps of life: those of your uncle and my thoughts wandered during the drive befather, I should think, would be much more tween Lord Arthur, and her father, and important to you. For myself, I must es- her newly-married sister. teem an effort for honorable independence, She little, little dreamed, how sedulously but I am no judge whatever of the course Lord Arthur had sought to wean himself you are taking, and

from his attachment-how, having arrived At that moment the rector returned, the at the conviction that it was hopeless to sentence was cut short, and Charles, think of obtaining her on the cheap terms judging from his own sanguine hopes, and of her own dishonor, he had shrunk from building upon the blush which had suffused the tie which was to shackle him for life. the cheeks of Alice, conceived and carried Had she known this, how her heart would with him as a hidden treasure the impres- have sickened ! But she never was to sion that she was not entirely indifferent know it, for Lord Arthur's most resolute concerning him. A powerful stimulus for efforts to disengage his fancy or his affecthe present, a deep sorrow for the future. tions had been vain, and he had at length

When he bade her his adieu an hour or determined to indulge them even at the two later, she strove to wear an air of non- fearful cost of marriage; if so, indeed, it chalance and coldness, but her embarrass- must be. He had therefore accepted Mrs. ment prevented her success, and was at. Newby's invitation again to make one of tributed by him to a very different cause the party whom she had assembled at the from the true one. He left her with hope Grange: and when, the day after her own bounding high in his veins.

arrival, Alice saw Lord Arthur's travelling When he was gone, Alice sought her carriage driving through the park, her room, and there reflected in sorrow upon fond, confiding heart bounded with joy, the pain which she saw she was destined to and she received him with the unconstraingive another. No other thought, even halled demonstration of hearty pleasure.

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From Tail's Magazine.

Give place to this, his last, his noblest theme :

And now his eager fancy seems to see,
THE DYING PAINTER.

More bright than e'en in his most rapturous

dream, Into a comfortless and lone old room

The awful pity, the meek majesty, The gray dawn coldly looked, and saw him

Of God's own Son,-0 now, Ő now could be there,

Paint the conception that hath fired his brain! Bent o'er the work which was his joy and doom.

But ah! that stricken hand is raised in vain That morn, his last, with songs that knew no The heart that felt that thrill will never beat care

again. The glad birds heralded ; in its despair The latest star long lingered in the skies,

'Tis little now to him that all too soon Looking its last upon him ere it dies,

To win the fame so fondly sought he died, Dies out of grief to hear those joyous melodies, And perished thirsting for too rare a boon ;

How mean the world, the fame for which he Consumption on his hollow cheek has thrown sighed! The hectic flush,-a signal unto Death

Look to that spirit gazing, eagle-eyed, Quickly to come and enter on his own; Upon His glory, whose afflicted mien And Life her wavering forces sheltereth

He strove when here to paint, -while every Within his eyes, their mournful brows be. scene, neath,

So witching fair on earth, doth only seem Lighting them with a fire too faslely bright ; As a marred image of some ill-remembered dream.

While Genius weeps beside her frail delighi, And strives in vain to guide his tremulous hand

aright.
Full many a nightly hour was sleepless made,

WEEP NOT.
Peopled with passionate imaginings,
For this last piciure, where he had portrayed

Christ healing sickness. Suddenly the wings' Weep not!'-how vain the words—how sad in

Of a strange dimness shadow him, that brings, Fall the cold words of comfort on the ear.
Flitting, confused before his dizzy eyes,
An airy crowd of changing fantasies,

Weep not !'-can gentle lips no phrases borrow That rise and blend and fade, like fair cloud-pa.. Weep not! Go tell the mother when she

To soothe the grief that wrests the falling tear? geantries.

presses

Her first-born to the breast, whose fearful throe And every form, and every gorgeous scene Bought the young life, to still her fond caresses,

His pencil wrought, before him came, as ye And hush her transports, ere to voiceless woe May round their dying father's bed have seen Those who will soon be orphans. Stormy

Thou sayst,' Be calm-weep not.' Did we in

herit sea,

No earthly sympathies to hold these frail And still deep waters, hidden lovingly, From ominous star or sun, by hanging boughs, -- Need thy wise counsel, and thy words prevail.

Endearing ties, then might the list'ning spirit Wild rocks that towered, all scathed, with Is not our heart's sweet sunshine from the faces threatening brows,

We have best loved to look on ?- when 'tis Daring heaven's bolts orice more their sulphurous flown, wrath to rouse ;

Gaze we not backwards on its lingering traces,

As on life's darkened path we tread alone ? Pictures of solemn, star-o'erwatched woods,-. The bird pines for its mate-nay, if a flower

Or crimson wings of brooding sunsets spread Be bul too roughly from its green stem torn, O'er western islets set in perilous floods, The tree will droop and die. It is the dower

With scenes of human bliss or hate or dread ;- Of hearts that best have loved to deepest moura. All that within his soul envisioned,

Weep!-welcome tears!' say rather, there is His hand had painted, or had burned to paint, sorrow

Before his memory rise, then fading faint- Thou know'st not of-the balm of tears denies, As things, though fair, with yet too much of earth- Night is not glad in gazing on To-morrow, ly taint,

But sheds her quiet tears when Daylight dies.

sorrow

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From Taits' Magazine,

But she, his early friend, unchanged a mourner

must remain : THE FAITHFUL HEART.

Once hath she given her all of love, she gave it

not again : She was a girl with golden curls, and his was Only when skies are clear, her look saith as it raven bair :

soars above, Playmates and friends from childish days those " To the pure heaven where thou art gone, yet two young cousins were ;

may I bear my love !" And up through all the widening view that youth

around them made, Still, as in childhood, hand in hand they met its light and shade;

NOT TO MYSELF ALONE. To her were told his woodland sports by mount

and lakelet fair, To her each soaring hope of youth, its bright The little opening fower transported crics

Not to myself alone,' dreams built in air.

Not to myself alone I bud and bloom;

With fragrant breath the breezes I perfume, And listening with untiring ear, her own sweet dream dreamt she,

And gladden all things with my rainbow dyes ;

The bee comes sipping, every eveutide, That this long utterance of his soul from Love's

His dainty fill; own fount must be;

The butterfly within my cup doth hide And so time pass'd—if kind to all, still kept he

From threatening ill.' by her side, With gentle looks and gentle cares her sweet blush did not chide,

· Not to myself alone,' Till he was called to other lands, where other the circling star witả honest pride doth boaststars give light,

Not to myself alone I rise and set; And then she felt as her one star had left her unto

I write upon night's coronal of jet

His power and skill who formed our myriad host; night.

A friendly beacon at heaven's open gate,

I gem the sky, Eve shower'd through the purpling sky her influ. That man might ne'er forget, in every fate, ence deep and still,

His home on high.' When once again they stood beside their child. hood's favorite rill;

• Not to myself alone,' Ever his voice was sweet and low, but dwelt there The heavy-laden bee doth murmuring humnow a tone,

Not to myself alone from flower to flower As fell his accents on her ear, to other days I rove the wood, the garden, and the bower, unknown.

And to the hive at evening weary come: “ Sweet cousin, who hast heard when grief or For man, for man the luscious food I pile gladness wrought with me,

With busy care, The deepest secret of my soul may well unseal Content if this repay my ceaseless toilto thee;

A scanty share. A fairer joy hath touch'd my heart than could its dreams foretell,

• Not to myself alone,' Kind one ! love also, for my sake, the bride I love The soaring bird with lusty pinion singsso well."

Not to myself alone 1 raise my song ;

I cheer the drooping with my warbling tongue, She did not faint, brcke forth no cry to speak And bear the mourner on my viewless wings;

I bid the hymnless churl my anthem learn, Crush'd in its blossom evermore although her

And God adore; heart might be ;

I call the worldling from his dross to turn, He told his tale of deepest joy as in the former

And sing and soar.' years, He knew not every word he said she heard

Not to myself alone,' through falling tears,

The streamlet whispers on its pebbly wayShe blest him with soft voice and clear, and told · Not to myself alone I sparkling glide ; her spirit high,

I scatter health and life on every side, “My heart shall ne'er chill his, with wo must And strew the fields with herb and flow'ret gay, rest there till I die."

I sing unto the common, bleak and bare, She smoothed the trouble from his path, as when

My gladsome tune; his childhood's guide,

I sweeten and refresh the languid air And won the gracious love of all to greet his fair

In droughty June.'

· Not to myself alone' A year rolls on, besides his grave there stream Oh man, forget not thou, earth's honored priest! the bitter tears

Its tongue, its soul, its life, its pulse, its heartOf her, his bride,-of her, was but friend of his In earth's great chorus to sustain thy part. early years ;

Chiesest of guests at love's ungrudging feast. And still time passeth on his way, the wife wears Play not the niggard, spurn thy native clod, joyful brow,

And self disown; And robed again in bridal white, at that same Live to thy neighbor, live unto thy God, church doth vow;

Not to thyself alone.

her agony,

young bride.

BY CHARLES MACKAY.

gave it birth.

THE WOODMAN.

From the Daily News. Hark! the woodman's axe is ringing.

THE WATCHER ON THE TOWER. Hark! beneath his sturdy stroke

Groans the doomed and noble oak. See! its twisted branches flinging Shattered foliage on the earth,

" What dost thou, lone watcher on the tower?

-comes the wished for hour? Last gift, last weeping token to the soil which is the day breaking ?

Tell us the signs, and stretch abroad thy hand,

If the bright morning dawns upon the land." Hark! the woodman's lay ascending. Little cares he for the hours

• The stars are clear above me, scarcely one When sweet Spring leads back the flowers,

Has dimmed its rays in reverence to the sun ; And the song-birds hither bending,

But yet I see on the horizon's verge, Vainly seek the well-known shield,

Some fair, faint streaks, as if the light would Where their nest through vanished summers was surge.' tenderly concealed.

“Look forth again, oh watcher on the towerUnto him no voice is calling

The people wake, and languish for the hour; From the gnarled yet stately trunk,

Long have they dwelt in darkness, and they pine Where to rest the pilgrim sunk;

For the full daylight that they know must shine.”' And the shadow round it falling

• I see not well- the moon is cloudy still ; Brings no vision to his eye

There is a radiance on the distant hillof the forms once grouped beneath it, in ages now Even as I watch the glory seems to glow; gone by.

But the stars blink, and the night-breezes blow.' Like the tree, thus sternly fated,

" And is that all, oh watcher on the tower ? Sinks the dome young Fancy rears

Look forth again, it must be near the hour. In the spring-time of our years ;

Dost thou not see the snowy mountain copes, When, in loftiest pride elated,

And the green woods beneath them on the Comes Reality's keen blow,

slopes ?” And the stem on which we leant is for evermore laid low.

• A mist envelopes them ; I cannot trace

Their outline ; but the day comes on apace. Hark! the woodman's axe loud ringing: The clouds roll up in gold and amber flakes, But bis track will pass away.

And all the stars grow dim. The morning breaks.' And behold! with freshening spray Greener saplings near are springing.

“We thank thee, lonely watcher on the tower ; So, when Fancy's sway is gone,

But look again, and tell us, hour by hour, Hopes may rise more blest and lasting than ever All thou beholdest; many of us die round her shone.

Ere the day comes; oh, give them a reply!"
• I see the hill-tops now; and chanticleer
Crows his prophetic carol on my ear;
I see the distant woods and fields of corn,
An ocean

aming in the light of morp.'
From the Dublin University Magazine.

" Again, again-oh watcher on the tower

We thirst for daylight, and we bide the hour, FLOWERS.

Patient but longing. Tell us, shall it be

A bright, calm, glorious daylight for the free?" Ye are the Scriptures of the Earth,

I hope, but cannot tell. I hear a song,
Sweet flowers, fair and frail;

Vivid as day itself; and clear and strong;
A sermon speaks in every bud
That woos the summer gale.

As of a lark-young prophet of the noon

Pouring in sunlight his seraphic tune.' Ye lift your heads at early morn,

“What doth he say, oh watcher on the tower? To greet the sunny ray,

Is he a prophet? Doth the dawning hour And cast your fragrance forth to praise Inspire bis music? Is his chant sublime The Lord of night and day.

With the full glories of the coming time?" Sown in the damp and cheerless earth,

• He prophesies-his heart is full-his lay Ye slumber for awhile,

Tells of the brightness of a peaceful day!
Then wanen unto glorious life,

A day not cloudless, nor void of storm,
And bid creation smile.

But sunny for the most, and clear and warm.'

" We thank thee, watcher on the lonely tower, Thus when within the darksome tomb For all thou tellest. Sings he of an hour Our mortal frame shall lie,

When Error shall decay, and Truih grow strongThe soul, fried from the bonds of sio, When Right shall rule supreme, and vanquish Shall join the choir on high.

Wrong?"

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