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any pity on me, don't mention my wife; it is the thought of her that drives me almost to madness !”

" And why not?” said I. « She must know it sooner or later : you cannot keep it long from her, and the intelligence may break upon her in a more startling manner, than if imparted by yourself; for the accents of those we love, soften the harshest tidings. Besides, you . are depriving yourself of the comforts of her sympathy; and not mere. ly that, but also endangering the only bond that can keep hearts together an unreserved community of thought and feeling. She will soon perceive that something is secretly preying upon your mind ; and true love will not brook reserve; it feels undervalued and outraged, when even the sorrows of those it loves are concealed from it.”

66 Oh, but my friend ! to think what a blow I am to give to all her future prospects-how I am to strike her very soul to the earth, by telling her that her husband is a beggar ! that she is to forego all the elegancies of life all the pleasures of society-to shrink with me into indigence and obscurity! To tell her that I have dragged her down from the sphere in which she might have cantinued to move in con. stant brightness-the light of every eyethe admiration of every heart! How can she bear poverty ? she has been brought up in all the refinements of opulence. How can she bear neglect ? she has been the idol of society. Oh! it will break her heart, it will break her heart."

I saw his grief was eloquent, and I let it have its flow; for sorrow relieves itself by words. When his paroxysm had subsided, and he had relapsed into moody silence, I resumed the subject gently, and urged him to break his situation at once to his wife. He shook his head mournfully, but positively.

“ But how are you to keep it from her ? It is necessary she should know it, that you may take the steps proper to the alteration of your circumstances. You must change your style of living—nay,” obsery. ing a pang to pass across his countenance, “ don't let that afflict you. I am sure you have never placed your happiness in outward show-you have yet friends, warm friends, who will not think the worse of you for being less splendidly lodged : and surely it does not require a palace to be happy with Mary — .”

" I could be happy with her,” cried he, convulsively, w in a hovel ! I could go down with her into poverty and the dust ! I could I could-God bless her !_God bless her !” cried he, bursting into a transport of grief and tenderness.

66 And believe me, my friend,” said I, stepping up, and grasping him warmly by the hand, believe me she can be the same with you. Ay, more : it will be a source of pride and triumph to her—it will call forth all the latent energies and fervent sympathies of her nature; for she will rejoice to prove that she loves you for yourself. There is in every true woman's heart a spark of heavenly fire, which lies dormant in the broad daylight of prosperity ; but which kindles up, and beams and blazes in the dark hour of adversity. No man knows what the wife of his bosom is--no man knows what a ministering angel she is- until he has gone with her through the fiery trials of this world.”

There was something in the earnestness of my manner, and the figurative style of my language, that caught the excited imagination of Leslie. I knew the auditor I had to deal with ; and following up the impression I had made, I finished by persuading him to go home and unburden his sad heart to his wife.

I must confess, notwithstanding all I had said, I felt some little som licitude for the result. Who can calculate on the fortitude of one whose whole life has been a round of pleasures ? Her gay spirits might revolt at the dark downward path of low humility suddenly pointed out before her, and might cling to the sunny regions in which they had hitherto revelled. Besides, ruin in fashionable life is accompanied by so many galling mortifications, to which in other ranks it is a stranger. - In short, I could not meet Leslie the next morning without trepidation. He had made the disclosure.

66 And how did she bear it ?”.

“ Like an angel! It seemed rather to be a relief to her mind; for she threw her arms round my neck, and asked if this was all that had lately made me unhappy.-But, poor girl!” added he, “ she cannot realize the change we must undergo. She has no idea of poverty but in the abstract ; she has only read of it in poetry, where it is allied to love. She feels as yet no privation ; she suffers no loss of accustomed conveniencies nor elegances. When we come practically to experience its sordid cares, its paltry wants, its petty humiliations then will be the real trial.”

66 But,” said I, - now that you have got over the severest task, that of breaking it to her, the sooner you let the world into the secret the better. It is not poverty so much as pretence, that harasses a ruined man—the struggle between a proud mind and an empty purse—the keeping up a hollow show that must soon come to an end. Have the courage to appear poor, and you disarm poverty of its sharpest sting.” On this point I found Leslie perfectly prepared. He had no false pride himself, and as to his wife, she was only anxious to conform to their altered fortunes.

Some days afterwards he called upon me in the evening. He had disposed of his dwelling house, and taken a small cottage in the country, a few miles from town. He had been busied all day in sending out furniture. The new establishment required few articles, and those of the simplest kind. All the splendid furniture of his late residence had been sold, excepting his wife's harp. That, he said, was too closely associated with the idea of herself; it belonged to the little story of their loves; for some of the sweetest moments of their courtship were those when he had leaned over that instrument, and listened to the melting tones of her voice. I could not but smile at this instance of romantic gallantry in a doting husband. ,

He was now going out to the cottage, where his wife had been all day superintending its arrangement. My feelings had become strongly interested in the progress of this family story, and, as it was a fine evening, I offered to accompany him.

He was wearied with the fatigues of the day, and as we walked out, fell into a fit of gloomy musing.

« Poor Mary !” at length broke, with a heavy sigh, from his lips. 66 And what of her ?" asked I, “ has any thing happened her ?”

" What !” said he, darting an impatient glance, " is it nothing to be reduced to this paltry situation—to be caged in a miserable cottage—to be obliged to toil almost in the menial concerns of her wretched habi. tation ?”

6 Has she then repined at the change ?”

6 Repined ! she has been nothing but sweetness and good humour. Indeed, she seems in better spirits than I have ever known her ; she has been to me all love, and tenderness and comfort !”

66 Admirable girl!” exclaimed I. “ You call yourself poor, my friend ; you never were so rich—you never knew the boundless treasures of excellence you possessed in that woman.”

“Oh! but, my friend, if this first meeting at the cottage were over, I think I could then be comfortable. But this is her first day of real experience ; she has been introduced into a humble dwelling—she has been employed all day in arranging its miserable equipments—she has, for the first time, known the fatigues of domestic employment-she has for the first time looked around her on a home destitute of every thing elegant,-almost of every thing convenient; and may now be sitting down, exhausted and spiritless, brooding over a prospect of future poverty.”

There was a degree of probability in this picture that I could not gainsay, so we walked on in silence.

After turning from the main road up a narrow lane, so thickly shaded with forest trees as to give it a complete air of seclusion, we came in sight of the cottage. It was humble enough in its appearance for the most pastoral poet ; and yet it had a pleasing rural look. A wild vine had overrun one end with a profusion of foliage; a few trees threw their branches gracefully over it, and I observed several pots of flowers tastefully disposed about the door, and on the grass plot in front. A small wicket gate opened upon a foot path that wound through some shrubbery to the door. Just as we approached, we heard the sound of music--Leslie grasped my arm ; we paused and listened. It was Mary's voice singing, in a style of the most touching simplicity, a little air of which her husband was peculiarly fond.

I felt Leslie's hand tremble on my arm. He stepped forward to hear more distinctly. His step made a noise on the gravel walk. A bright beautiful face glanced out at the window, and vanished_a light footstep was heard and Mary came tripping forth to meet us : she was in a pretty rural dress of white; a few wild flowers were twisted in her fine hair; a fresh bloom was on her cheek ; her whole countenance beamed with smiles--I had never seen her look so lovely.

" My dear George !” cried she “ I am so glad you are come! I have been watching and watching for you ; and running down the lane, and looking out for you. I've set out a table under a beautiful tree bem hind the cottage ; and I've been gathering some of the most delicious strawberries, for I know you are fond of them and we have such excellent cream--and every thing is so sweet and still here.-Oh!” said she, putting her arm within his, and looking up brightly in his face, 66 Oh we shall be so happy !”

- Poor Leslie was overcome. He caught her to his bosom-he folded his arms round her-he kissed her again and again he could not speak, but the tears gushed into his eyes ; and he has often assured me, that though the world has since gone prosperously with him, and his life has, indeed, been a happy one, yet never has he experienced a moment of more exquisite felicity.

THE GRAVE OF ANNA.

I wish I was where AnnA lies ;

For I am sick of lingering here ;
And every hour affection cries,

Go, and partake her humble bier.

I wish I could ! for, when she died,

I lost my all; and life has proved,
Since that sad hour, a dreary void,

A waste unlovely, and unloved..

But who, when I am turn'd to clay,

Shall duly to her grave repair,
And pluck the rugged moss away,

And weeds that have “ no business there ?"

And who, with pious hand, shall bring

The flowers she cherish'd, snow-drops cold,
And violets that unheeded spring,

To scatter o'er her hallow'd mold ?

And who, while memory loves to dwell

Upon her name, for ever dear,
Shall feel his heart with passion swell,

And pour the bitter, bitter tear?

I DID IT : and, would fate allow,

Should visit still, should still deplore-
But health and strength have left me now,

And I, alas ! can weep no more.

Take then, sweet maid ! this simple strain,

The last I offer at thy shrine ;
Thy grave must then undeck'd remain,

And all thy memory fade with mine.

And can thy soft persuasive look,

Thy voice, that might with music vie,
Thy air, that every gazer took,

Thy matchless eloquence of eye ;
Thy spirits, frolicsome as good,

Thy courage, by no ills dismay'd,
Thy patience, by no wrongs subdued,

Thy gay good-humour--can they “ fade ?”
Perhaps but sorrow dims my eye :

Colā turf, which I no more must view,
Dear name, which I no more must sigh,
A long, a last, a sad adieu !”

W. GIFFORD.

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AFFLICTION one day, as she harked to the roar

Of the stormy and struggling billow,
Drew a beautiful form on the sands of the shore,

With the branch of a weeping willow.

Jupiter, struck with the noble plan,

As he roam'd on the verge of the ocean, Breath'd on the figure, and calling it Man,

Endued it with life and motion.

A creature so glorious in mind and in frame,

So stamp'd with each parent's impression, Among them a point of contention became,

Each claiming the right of possession.

He is mine, said Affliction :- I gave him his birth,

I alone am his cause of creation :-
The materials were furnish'd by me, answered Earth ; --

I gave him, said Jove, animation.

The gods all assembled in solemn Divan,

After hearing each claimant's petition, Pronounced a definitive verdict on Man,

And thus settled his fate's disposition.

Let Affliction possess her own child, till the woes

Of life cease to harass and goad it ;
After death give his body to Earth, whence it rose ;

And his spirit to Jove, who bestowed it.

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