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the barrier between you, then, insurmount- alone together, and her impatient mind found able ?
relief in his early departure. “ Yes, lady; it is the barrier that has been True to her promise, on the following day, reared by the artificial conventionalities of Mary, without ordering the carriage, walked society,-it is stronger than adamant, loftier alone to the studio. She found the painter in than the wall of China; broader than the river | his working-dress, laboring upon the features Styx !"
of a cherub-looking child. The young lady * I know little of the river Styx," answered entered the apartment under visible embarrassthe maid, smiling at the indignant ardor of her ment; her agitation was in a measure unconcompanion; " but I know that adamant can trollable, and a slight paleness, which usurped be broken, and the wall of China overcome, if the place of the usually rosy warmth of her the right means are employed. Would it be complexion, betrayed somewhat the emotions consistent to inform me what constitutes this of her heart. The artist received her with a fearful engine of separation between two loving smile, that betokened more thanks than lips hearts ?
could utter, for what he termed her kind conde"Certainly,” replied Arlington. “It is the scension, and taking courage from his frank line that is drawn between wealth and poverty. cheerfulness and conversation, Mary soon grew By the customs of society, rank and worth are more composed. measured by dollars and cents. Merit, talent “My dear Miss Cortley,” he said at length,
-even virtue, are cast out of the account, and and his voice grew husky as he spoke, "you gold, sordid gold, is made the sole standard of have come to-day on a mission of mercy, and excellence! Is not this so ?"
in compliance with your promise to aid me " I think not wholly so," responded the lady, with your counsel and advice in a matter that with a slight sigh. “But I perceive the topic affects my whole happiness. This is generous. is painful to you ; let us change it."
| I have confided to you the great secret of my “No, not painful; I confess my pride revolts existence, in all save the name of the object when I find myself so completely the slave of that I worship, and as I am now about to make custom; yet there is a self-conscious sense of that also known to you, and to exhibit the feathe injustice of this unnatural distinction, tures of her I love, I can but entreat, dearest which bears the bruised mind loftily above its girl, that your noble sympathies will, at least, influences. Before we are interrupted, my pardon the presumption of an overflowing dear Miss Cortley, I have a favor to ask of you. | heart." This may be the last time that circumstances. With these words, he drew aside a small drawill permit me to visit your paternal roof. I pery, and revealed a picture that hung upon have revealed to you the hopeless aspect of the wainscot before the maiden. The story my dearest and best affections, and, relying on was told. The downcast eyes and suffused your discretion and judgment, I desire to make cheeks of the maid, revealed the effect of a you still further my confidant. In my studio single glance at the canvas, and informed the are the lineaments of her to whom my heart timid artist that it was with no displeasure turns despondingly as the polar star of my hap- she there beheld a life-like reflex of her own piness, traced there upon the canvas, in almost love-beaming features. Before her mind seembreathing truthfulness, by the inspiration of ed the dawn of a new existence, and from that love's directing power. Promise me that you lifeless canvas came to her soul new thoughts, will visit the studio, and judge whether the new hopes, new joys, all fresh and sweet to object that I have chosen is not worthy of the senses. That she loved the artist, her own man's best and proudest devotion."
heart had a thousand times confessed ; but It is needless to say that the promise was that her love could be returned she dared not, given ; for poor Mary, who thought that the did not hope. True to her instinct, rather knell of her own hopes had been sounded, felt than to her position in society, she had taught then that she would give worlds to know and herself to regard the object of her affection as gaze upon the heartless creature who could a creature of superior mold, a thing to be adreject such an expenditure of goodness and love mired--revered, but not approached; and when from a heart so deserving. This done, Arling- the revelation of his lore for her glowed upon ton took leave of the company and retired. her from the canvas, it seemed as the realizaMiss Clara had been not a little vexed at tion of a long and blissful dream. being compelled to leave Arlington and Mary Let us now draw the curtain over the whole
scene at the studio, and briefly inform the time in after years, did the happy pair gaze reader that a few months after this occurrence, together on that auspicious picture, which the a wedding took place at the mansion of the painter facetiously denominated his " DECLACortleys, and hundreds were present to wel- | RATION OF LOVE." come the advent of a new star in the firma- From this time forth, Mary became the ment of Upper-ten-dom. Arlington and Mary favorite of her parents, and the young coquette, were then and there united in a marriage of who once imagined that she had the world at real affection ; but Arlington refused to give her feet, sometimes caught herself weeping up his profession, which, he said, had brought over her rapid decline into the vale of oldhim to the pinnacle of happiness; and many a maidenhood.
[The following letter was in type for our last number, and unavoidably crowded out.]
Slywink, Mass., February 1st, 1851. . I job, they always gin him somethin' to eat; and Mr. Editor :
| then when night come, he'd go and crawl in Now you have dun it! I did'nt expect you somebody's barn, and there he'd sleep without was goin' to print that letter of mine, and you any expense for his lodgings. Ike seemed to shouldn't a done so; or, at any rate, you mite be an honest, good-natured fellow, and nobody have mended the spellin' a little. I didn't had anythin' to say aginst him, except that he think it was so bad till I seen it in printed let- set a bad example of idleness, and dissipation ters; and it seems to me now, you must a made to the young folks; and, besides, a’most everyit a little worse than it raly was. But hows-body was afraid that some night or 'nother, ever, it didn't tell anything but the truth, when he was drunk, he'd set somebody's barn and so I ain't agoin' to be ashamed on't. And a fire, tryin' to lite his pipe, for Ike was a consince you printed my story about Aunt Debby's siderable smoker ; and so they all wanted to Cheeses, I'll tell you another.
git rid on him, but charity wouldn't let 'em About four year ago, there was a fellow, send him away: and then agin, it was kind a named Ike Rawlins, that had been loafin' about handy to have him about, because he was alour neighborhood for a good while, doin' little ways ready to do any little job that was wanted, chores here and there, and then goin' to the for a trifle, or somethin' to eat, providin' he was tavern and gittin' drunk, as often as he could sober. And so Ike lived around, and did pretty git money to pay for licker. That was all Ike much as he was a mind to for a long time. spent inoney for ; because wherever he did al One day it happened that two of our farmers
was gittin' in hay, when, right in the middle say, Ike, the Cap'n 's a temp'rance man, but of their work, they seen a thunder-storm comin' we've got a whiskey jug under the stack there, on towards 'em, butt eend foremost. One was and if you'll jest give us a lift, you shall have Cap'n Dorsey, and tother was old Jabez Crowle, a swig at it when we're done, and the eighteen we commonly called him Unkle Jabe. Well, pence to boot,—will you dew it?" "Yes, I the two meadows they were workin' in, lay will,” says Ike, and he crawled over the fence right side and side, and when they saw the into Unkle Jabe's lot, while the Cap'n went shower a comin', all hands put to with rakes back to his work een-a-most swearin', tho he and pitchforks to git in the hay, as if the Old is a deacon at the meetin' house. So Ike went Nick was arter 'em, they were so 'fraid the hay to work, but he did more hurt than good, and, would git wet. Jest then, who should they see they got in the last load o' hay jest after the in the road, but Ike Rawlins, goin' rite by the shower began; and when Ike went for his corner where the lots jined. Both on 'em “swig," at the whiskey jug, he found the jug, wanted all the help they could git, and both on sure enough, but no whiskey. 'em sung out "Ike!" as loud as they could hol. The Cap'n was so mad when Unkle Jabe got ler, and about the same time. Ike stopped and Ike over the fence, that he and his hands went looked 'round when he heard his name called, to it in such good earnest, that they got their and Cap'n Dorsey and Unkle Jabe both started hay in, high and dry, before the shower began; on a run to the corner where Ike stood, both on and stood laughin' at Unkle Jabe's folks as 'em determined to git him to come and help they went in soakin’ wet with their last load. • 'em to git in the hay. Unkle Jabe spoke first, “ Ha, ha,” says the Cap'n, “ better do without, while he was a runnin,' puffin' and blowin' all than have such help.” the time like a choked cow.
When I heard this joke, I couldn't help "Ike!” says Unkle Jabe. “here, I want you thinkin' how much Unkle Jabe and the Cap'n to come help git in this hay—it's—a goin' to was like the politicians. The old parties don't rain-and I'll give you a — shillin'."
either of them like the foreigners any too much, The Cap’n sung out next, and offered Ike and they'r more'n half afraid they'll set Unkle eighteen pence if he'd come and help him. Sam's barn afire yet, and they all wish 'em to Unkle Jabe said he spoke to Ike first, and it the old Harry; but when the thunder-shower want neighborly in the Cap'n to interfere. So of an election comes round, they both run the Cap'n said it wasn't none of his business ; ) arter 'em, as the Cap'n and Unkle Jabe did he wanted a hand, and he meant to git him if arter Ike, to git their help; and so they git he could, — and if "neighbor Isaac" wasn't into a quarrel with one another, and use hard engaged, he'd be very thankful if he'd come words, and try to outbid, and make promises and work for him, and he'd pay him as much that they can't keep, and don't intend to if as anybody. Unkle Jabe saw the soft sawder | they can : and arter all it turns out, sometimes, that the Cap'n was puttin' onto Ike, so he tho't that the party that gets 'em is none the better he'd jest try a game worth two o' that. So, as off by it; and so I think, like Cap'n Dorsey, Ike was standin' starin' first at one, and then at that we'd " better do without, than have such tother, with his eyes a stickin' out like a squir- help.” rel's, Unkle Jabe gin him a sly wink, and beck
So no more at present from oned him up to the fence, and when Ike got
Your friend, there, Unkle Jabe whispered in his ear,—“Il
"I am out of humanity's reach
prayer to Heaven, and from the fount of the I must finish my journey alone;
heart pour out, in adoration, the stream of Never hear the sweet music of speech ; I start at the sound of my own.
gratitude for His boundless mercies and endur
ing love. “The beasts that roam over the plain, My form with indifference see:
But the solitude of the mount or of the deThey are so unacquainted with man,
sert-an abandonment of the gay and polished Their tameness is shocking to me.”
scenes of life, for the solitary hut, far, far from The Great Ruler of the Universe, when he the abodes of man, where no human footstep conceived the benevolent idea of forming man e'er can tread-is contrary to the intention of in his own glorious image, had he ever have Him who has, by endowing us with intellectual designed for him a condition of solitude, would capacities, impressed on the cultivated mind a have never placed by his side the last and knowledge of our duty to our fellow-creatures. best of all create,” nor conferred on him any Man cannot hide from the world, nor escape living thing.
from the tumultuous scenes of life. He may Man, by nature, is a social being, and finds climb the mountain-top, or rear him a home delight in the companionship of his kind; for, in the forest, and shut out the cheering light in his intercourse with his fellow-creatures, he of day; yet the bright-winged paroquet will realizes the expectations of a God of Love, and hover o'er his head, and the gay red-bird pour ameliorates the condition of the human race. its sweetest strains into his ears.
'Tis only in communing with our thoughts. He will find society in everything around his that solitude becomes requisite—but it is the sequestered abode-in the running brook-in temporary solitude of the chamber—the lone- | the creeping stream-in the waving leaves liness and retirement of the closet--the secrecy in the blooming flowers—in the insect humand silence of midnight, when all is hushed, in the roaring winds—in the gentle breezeand not a sound doth mar the calm repose of in the dropping rain-in the falling dew-and nature :
in the earth when whitened with the snow. For then we can breathe out the grateful' And, as 'mid the gloom of night he casts his eye to the canopy which severs him from the The treasured grain, toiled toward her citadel
To the sweet hive went forth the loaded bee, beings of a brighter clime, the stars which
And from the wind-rocked nest, the mother-bird spangle it, and the moon which reflects her
Sang to her nurslings. matchless rays of unparalleled beauty o'er the
" Yet I strangely thought threatening darkness, are powerful witnesses
To be alone, and silent in thy realm,
Spirit of life and love! It might not be ! of his actions.
There is no solitude in thy domains, Who would waste in solitude the most pre Save what man makes, when, in his selfish breast. cious moments of life? Who yield up his last
He locks his joys, and bars out others' grief.
Thou hast not left thyself to Nature's round breath where none could surround his dying
Without a witness. Trees, and flowers, and streams couch, and where none could point to a haven Are social and benevolent; and he of bliss beyond the restricted confines of the Who oft communeth in their language pure.
Roaming among them at the cool of day, tomb?
Shall find, like him who Eden's garden dressed, “On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
His Maker there, to teach his listening heart."
We are not opposed to temporary, but to Even ia our ashes live their wonted fires." that eternal solitude which incloses man within Oh! commend us to the sweet companion
the limits of his dreary and lonely habitation ship of woman, when we tremble on the brink
-a solitude which bespeaks the littleness of of eternity, to solace our last sojourn on earth,
his mind, and the narrowness of his heart. and strew with blooming flowers our pathway
No matter where he may bend his steps, he to the silent halls of death.
cannot flee from the wrath of an offended
God, or close up his ears to the summons of Many and many a beautiful gem hath been written on solitude. Most sweetly have its
death. The Omnipotent Eye can penetrate charms been portrayed by gifted authors, and
his mountain-home, and the grim messenger most eloquently have its delights been unfolded
can unbolt his doors. to view. Still, with all due regard to the sen
He can have no good cause for his banishtiments of those with whom we cannot concur,
ment. The ingratitude of man should not and entertaining the highest opinion of their
have driven him to the wilderness, nor his genius, we must, nevertheless, protest against
villiany sickened him of the world. If she, that seclusion from society which has a ten
the idol of his heart, hath played him false, dency to restrict the usefulness of the human
and lavished her smiles on a more favored race, and creates a line of separation between
lover, he should have buried her treachery in man and his neighbor.
forgetfulness :Our distinguished and talented Mrs. Sigour
A nobler flame shall warm his breast,
A brighter maiden faithful prove, ney beautifully pours out the rich resources of
His youth, his age, shall yet be blest her mind, in her poem on “ Solitude.” Often
In woman's love. and often, while bounding o'er the mighty Or have thy miserly propensities, oh! wandeep, has your author crank in from the in- derer, debarred thee from the calm and blissspirations of this intellectual lady, as he pe- ful enjoyment of domestic felicity? Perchance rused her soul-stirring verse amid the calmness thou canst exclaim, “ No blood of mine courses of the sea, by the light of the glorious moon, the veins of any living mortal, for yon solitary at the still and solemn hour of midnight: tomb encircles the companion of my bosom, “ Deep solitude I sought. There was a dell
and holds captive the children of my love." It Where woven shades shut out the eye of day,
may be that in the solitude he has chosen While, towering near, the rugged mountains made
he devotes the residue of his days to prayer, Dark back-ground 'gainst the sky. Thither I went, And bade my spirit drink that lonely draught,
and to the praise of The Eternal, and is preFor which it long had languished 'mid the strife paring himself for that Realm where the rainAnd fever of the world. I thought to be
bow never fades. If so, how commendable is There without witness. But the violet's eye
such a state of solitude! Mindful of the follies Looked up upon me,-the fresh wild-rose smiled, And the young pendent vine-flower kissed my cheek; and vanities of the world, he is holding conAnd there were voices, too. The garrulous brook,
verse with his God, and is placing his sole Untiring, to the patient pebbles told
reliance on the mercies of the High and Holy Its history ;-up came the singing breeze, And the broad leaves of the cool poplar spake
One, on that final day when the hearts of all Responsive, every one. Even busy life
shall be exposed to the view of countless milWoke in that dell. The tireless spider threw
lions of beings, and when each around that From spray to spray her silver-tissued snare. The wary ant, whose curving pincers pierced
vast multitude shall stand or fall by his