duels of playful boys with their light and harmless weapons; looked on benevolently, as the ball was tossed into the air and the top whirled in invisible circles.

It was from this place for the spring is the time for amusements at Rome that he went down to the field of Mars to see the youths wrestle, smeared with oil. From this spot he went to the theatres, to listen to the play and sympathise with the enthusiastic auditory. It is to this spot aud to these pleasures, that the heart of the exile flows back, and he sees and hears and enjoys them all in those trances of oblivious fancy, which he sometimes experiences.

FANNY RICHMOND.

A TALE.

"I am going to New York to-morrow," said Fanny Richmond to Addison Parker, as he entered, just at nightfall, the parlor where he was accustomed daily to spend the only half hour which he could spare from his professional studies.

"Indeed! how long do you remain there ?" said Parker.

"I cannot tell. My friends wish me to spend the winter there." "Has not the plan been very suddenly formed?" The tone in which these words were uttered fell very unpleasantly on Fanny's ear. She could not determine whether it was indicative of the sadness which so often oppressed his spirits, or of disapprobation of her intended journey. She therefore did not make an immedi ate reply. "May I inquire," continued he, " what has led to so sudden a resolution?" This question was asked in a milder tone, as though he would fain remove the chill which the former one had thrown over his auditor.

"I have just received a letter from my cousin, giving me a pressing invitation to spend the winter with her; and-"

"And you anticipate a great deal of pleasure in so doing?" There was to Fanny's quick ear something of reproach and bitterness in the tone of this remark. Appearing not to notice it, or rather hoping that her ear had deceived her, she replied "I certainly anticipate some pleasure and improvement or I should not think of going."

"How can your friends at home do without you?" This was spoken in a soft and serious manner.

"Oh, they can spare me. Very possibly they may be glad to have me out of the way for a time." This was spoken in a sprightly tone, assumed to assist her in struggling against the oppressive feeling which was stealing over her.

"Do you mean what you say?" said Parker, with mingled sadness and severity.

"Why not?" said Fanny, still struggling against the feeling just noticed; "there are few so interesting as to render their presence always desirable." It was with difficulty that she retained her lively manner; and her heart sunk deeper within her when she saw the construction which might be put on the words last uttered.

"It is well," said Parker coldly, "when those who do not belong to that interesting class, have the independence to absent themselves when their presence is not desired. Good night, Miss Richmond may you have a pleasant visit to New York, and may you find there new friends more worthy of your regard."

"Good night, Mr. Parker," said Fanny in a firm tone, her indignation being roused by his injustice. In an instant, however, this feeling had passed away. She arose and went to the door, hoping that in the quick transitions of feeling of which he was susceptible, a softer one would come over him which would lead him to return, and spend his accustomed half hour in a manner befitting their expected separation. But he passed on without a reverted look until his form was no longer visible in the gathering darkness. Fanny then retired to her chamber and wept long and bitterly.

Parker had become acquainted with Miss Richmond during the last vacation of his collegiate course. It was while she was spending a few days with a relative at a distance from her home. From the moment of his introduction to her his attentions were as unremitting as his intense devotion to his studies would allow. He selected her native village as the scene of his professional studies, solely on her account. Ambition, burned in his bosom with fierce intensity, and yet the aspirations of his heart exerted over him a still stronger influence. Amid all his dreams of the future, there was none so deeply cherished as that of the profession of a heart on which he could bestow all the fullness of his affection with perfect assurance of an equally intense affection in return. His frame was tall, muscular and commanding; his manners generally reserved, and in the estimation of some, cold and haughty. The language of compliment and flattery he could not endure. In those ordinary attentions to the fair, which are so assiduously plied by men destitute alike of intellect and feeling, he was wanting; while for woman he cherished the profoundest veneration.

His imagination acted in accordance with the dictates of his reason. It was to no creation of his fancy that he gave his heart in keeping, when his eye fell on the fair form and modest countenance of Fanny Richmond. It was his intuitive perception of her guileless purity, her calm yet intense applications, her ready sympathy with all that is beautiful in human feeling, her frank and firm integrity which led captive at the same time his imagination and his heart.

The respect and preference of such a man, though expressed by

few of those lesser attentions which are supposed to be so powerful in winning woman, could not fail to make its due impression upon a mind so quick to perceive the lofty and pure in character-so ready to respond to the key-note of affection. She placed a just estimate upon the value of Parker's love. Could he have looked into the still depths of her heart, he would have seen his image so perfectly mirrored there that even the demands of his exacting tenderness would have been fully met. Though possessed of unusual powers of discrimination in regard to character and feeling, yet in consequence of the reserve which her deep respect for him occasioned, and of feelings too deep to manifest themselves in ordinary modes, he was left in partial ignorance of what he most desired to know.

The proposed visit to the city which had caused his abrupt departure was solely owing to her regard for him. But for the relation which was tacitly understood to exist between them, the invitation would have been declined, as it had frequently been before. True there were the earnest wishes of her parents that she would go; for though she was to them as the sunlight of heaven or the voice of spring, yet they desired her to enjoy, even at the expense of a lonely fireside to themselves, the supposed advantages of a residence in the great metropolis. But so long as her heart was in her own keeping, these advantages were to her of little moment. Now she deemed it desirable that she should be some. what acquainted with the conventional proprieties of life, that she might not be wholly unprepared for that station which she was sure the wife of such a man as Parker must be called to occupy. For his sake, therefore, she was willing to make the sacrifice of home and of his society. She would gladly have taken counsel with him, but circumstances connected with her father's business rendered it necessary to decide without delay. The decision was made, and they were to set out for the city before daylight the ensuing morning.

Fanny passed a sleepless night. All feelings of indignation and all sense of injustice and injury passed speedily from her mind. With true feminine heart-logic, she acquitted him of blame. She had done wrong by her precipitate decision to accept the invitation. She had done wrong by her spirited reply to his cold remarks, and by her ill-advised assumption of gayety of heart. Fain would she have reversed her decision; but measures for her departure were already taken. What reason could she assign for a change of purpose? None but the true one, consistently with her principles: could she utter that to any human ear but his ?

She almost wished for illness. She would have prayed for it, had she deemed it lawful. "My own folly has mingled the cup,' thought she, "and I must drink it."

Before the dawn Mr. Richmond and his daughter were on their way, and in due time arrived safely at their journey's end. Neither the cordial welcome of her beautiful and accomplished cousin,

or the new and exciting objects with which she was surrounded, could remove from her heart the load which a few cold words had thrown upon it. Is it a blessing or otherwise to have susceptibilities thus acute?

When Parker parted from Fanny, he returned to his room with a feeling of irritated pride, which he persuaded himself was wounded tenderness. Had he not made great sacrifices for her sake? The learned halls, the well stored libraries, the stimulating presence of men who had been successful in the pursuit of fame-had he not turned aside from all these advantages that he might be near her, albeit it were but for a few brief moments daily? Did she not know that he had made these sacrifices, and how great they were? And yet she was about to leave her home to seek amusement in heartless scenes, or to listen to compliments which he would scorn to utter. He sat thus idle for a little season, while bitter thoughts coursed rapidly through his brain; then turning to his studies, by the force of his iron will his whole mind was concentrated on the work before him, and continued there till long after the noon of night.

The sun was high in the heavens when he awoke from a feverish and unrefreshing sleep. "Is she gone?" was the first thought of which he was conscious. He walked towards her dwelling. The closed casement of her chamber assured him that she was gone. He returned home, and for the first time found it impos sible to fix his attention on his studies. He passed an idle, selfaccusing, unhappy day. In the evening, at the usual hour, he called at Mr. Richmond's. He was cordially welcomed by Mrs. Richmond, who had passed an exceedingly lonely day in consequence of Fanny's absence. Parker's impression that Fanny intended to pass the winter in the city was confirmed by Mrs. R., who knew not that her daughter had resolved to make a speedy return. To determine this fact was all that Parker had in view. He returned to his lodgings, and prepared for his departure on the morrow. The rising sun found him on his way to the city.

He had no fixed plan of action; he was not fully resolved to go to the city when he bent his steps in that direction. It certainly was not his purpose to seek out Fanny there. Hence his neglect to inquire respecting her cousin's name and residence; but scarcely had he touched the pavement of that mighty Babel, ere he regretted his neglect. It was in vain that he sought to repair his error. In vain he travelled the public walks to meet that form which he was so sure to recognise. He had half resolved to write to her parents for the desired information, when one day he stepped in to view an attractive painting which was exhibited by a young and rising artist. While there as he chanced to turn his eye towards the entrance, he saw Fanny enter. The agitation that the sight of her occasioned, led him to turn aside a moment to recover his self-possession, as he should approach her. When he turned to

do so, she was gone. A lady who entered with her remained. Judging from her countenance that she was her relative, he had the boldness to inquire for Fanny. He was right in his conjecture that it was Fanny's cousin to whom he spoke. She conversed with him freely, for his claim to gentility could not be mistaken even by a stranger. He learned that Fanny had been seized with a sudden faintness, and was obliged to retire. Her cousin was obliged to remain, as she had engaged to meet a friend there at a certain hour. He could not learn that Fanny had made mention of his name. He was told that she was to spend the winter in the city. He was invited to call, and said that he would do so that evening; but was informed that Fanny had engaged to go that evening to a concert.

"I do not go out at night myself," said the lady, which Parker regarded as an apology or reason for not inviting him to join the party. He took a courteous leave, and in reply to her invitation to call on the morrow, informed her that it was his purpose to leave the city on the morrow. "She has not spoken of me," murmured he as he strode towards his lodgings. Did that fact prove that thoughts of him had not filled her mind both in her waking and her sleeping hours? Is there no exception to the rule "out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh?"

The remainder of the day was spent by him in hurried preparation to leave his native shores. At night he sat down and wrote the following to Fanny;

Miss Richmond:

I am about to make myself an exile and wanderer on your account. I took up my abode in your village for your sake, foregoing many advantages with respect to my profession. You have left the village, forgetful it would seem of the sacrifices I made in order to be near you. As you are to spend the winter here, I shall return to L no more. I sail in the Packet for Havre to-morrow. I have been disappointed in but it matters not now. May you be happy. You may be perhaps you could not be, were you the being I once supposed you to be. But I write not to upbraid, but to bid you farewell. I can say that I am glad that you cannot know the pain with which I utter that word to you.

Your friend,

A. PARKER.

When the above was placed in Fanny's hand, the good ship was on her way. For a moment her reason reeled beneath the blow, but soon an ominous calmness took possession of her mind. She sat down and wrote to her father that circumstances had occurred which rendered it imperative that she should return immediately. She implored him in the strongest terms to come for her without delay. The anxious parent obeyed the summons. The pale cheek, the sunken eye and the trembling limb, told how that she needed a mother's nursing; but nought was told him of