the arrears of her father's half-pay, and a small pension | fell over a brow and neck of perfect beauty, while her of twenty pounds per annum, constituted all their worldly wealth. But Blanche possessed a determined and resolute spirit, and she did not doubt but that she could, by her industry and economy, provide for the wants of Emily and herself. It became necessary, however, that she should find another place of abode, and her thoughts involuntarily turned towards London, as being the spot most likely to afford her the means of employment. But she knew not a creature in the wide city, with the single exception of the widow of her brother Henry. This woman, having contracted a second marriage, now kept a small millenary and ready-made linen shop, in London, and although Blanche shrunk from applying to one whose coarse manners she had always disliked, yet her unprotected situation left her no alternative. whole face was lighted up by the glow of health and cheerfulness, which can make even an ordinary countenance attractive. To these charms of person, Blanche added a voice of wonderful sweetness and power. Its tones were almost bird-like in their clearness, and few listened to the rich gushes of song with which she beguiled her daily task, without pausing to catch the latest accents of such bewitching melody. Yet her voice was quite uncultivated—nature had done every thing for it, and science had never set limits to its exuberance of sweetness. Such was Blanche Hazelton,-such was the being destined by one to sit behind the counter of a glove and linen shop, and by submitting to their impertinences secure the custom of the ill-paid clerks of the neighboring warehouses, and doomed by the other to a fate, which we may not name without a shudder. Mrs. Marsden had been in the habit of eking out her small gains, by letting her second floor to a few lodgers, but when Blanche became an inmate of her family, she had only one apartment to spare, and this she was so fortunate as to dispose of to a distinguished musician. This man had listened to the exquisite voice which was ever carolling its simple songs, until he became fascinated with its sweetness, and inly resolved that such powers should not be wasted in obscurity. He sought an acquaintance with the songstress, and the sight of her surpassing beauty only confirmed him in his design. She found Mrs. Marsden, her sister-in-law, living in comparative comfort and by no means disposed to turn a deaf ear to her proposals, when she found that Blanche had sufficient funds to pay her expenses for the present. Thoroughly selfish in all her views, Mrs. Marsden had never forgiven the Hazelton family for their opposition to Henry's marriage, and but from motives of interest, she would never have listened to them for a moment. But, while Blanche had money, she was welcome to become a boarder, and she did not doubt her tact in getting rid of them before they should become chargeable to her. But Mr. Marsden, took a very different view of the matter. || He was one of those mysterious sort of individuals, insinuating in manners, pleasing in appearance, easy of address, and gentlemanly in deportment, who are always to be found in the neighborhood of theatres and large hotels, and whose means of life are so non-apparent, as to awaken the curiosity of many an honest, plodding citizen. Indeed, while Mr. Marsden seemed to owe his livelihood to "the shop," his language, dress, and manners, were decidedly above it; and those skilled in such matters, would have had no difficulty in divining that he was more accustomed to take his station at a faro-table, than behind a counter. He had been much struck with Blanche's singular beauty, and he immediately suggested to his wife, that she should offer her a situation as shopwoman, trusting to her personal charms to attract customers. Mrs. Marsden eagerly caught at the idea, though she well knew, that, in all probability, this was only the first step towards some profligate plot, which would enrich her husband, at the expense of her young relative's destruction; but, it was agreed to defer making the proposal to Blanche until she should have become somewhat Rubinelli was not slow in perceiving the impression familiarized with their mode of life, and, in the mean he had produced, and gradually overcoming her reserve, time, they concluded to offer her a small compensation as he became better acquainted with the family, he at for her services as one of the sempstresses to the estab-length proposed that she should become his pupil in lishment. Surprised and gratified by the kindness of her sister-in-law, Blanche readily accepted the proposal, and rejoiced at having thus secured a certain refuge from future want. Blanche was, at this time, a creature of rare beauty. Her figure was symmetry itself, her complexion was of dazzling fairness, and her cheek wore that rich peachlike tint, so rarely seen except in early childhood. Her features were exceedingly regular, and her dark tresses "With such a face, such a voice, and a year's instruction what a splendid addition she would be to our opera!" thought he. But it was a thing not to be proposed too suddenly, and, waiting his opportunity, Signor Rubinelli contented himself with watching the beautiful girl in silence. Little aware of the different kinds of speculation, of which she was the object, Blanche pursued the quiet tenor of her way, rejoicing in the thought that a course had been opened to her, which would lead her far beyond the reach of the destitution she had once dreaded. She had been struck with the noble appearance of the lodger, and had felt the power of his magnificent black eyes as they flashed upon her, when she accidentally encountered him, but it was not until she heard his splendid voice, that her interest in him was widely aroused. Professing strong love for music, it was not strange that she should have felt pleasure in listening to his piano, while she sat at work in her little back room; and she gave herself up, with the artlessness of a child, to the pleasure with which it inspired her. music. By this means he discovered her precise condition, and learned, to his great joy, that to her daily labor, she would soon be indebted for her daily bread. He then unfolded all his plans, and Blanche was wonder-stricken when she learned that she had but to utter a word, and the gates which shut in the fairy-land that lies within the precincts of the theatre, would open to admit her. She could not believe that her powers were equal to such a display, and she shrunk with natural delicacy from a destiny which would thus make her Their representations, however, were not without 'the load-star of a thousand eyes.' But the prospect some effect, and, remembering her father's favorite of future fame, the certainty of being thus enabled, if project, Blanche determined to insure her life, previous successful, to secure a competency for Emily, and per- to entering upon her arduous career. In this design she haps a latent desire to find herself an object of especial was warmly seconded by Mr. Marsden, and her sister regard to the handsome foreigner, all were powerful volunteered to accompany her to the office. Her incentives to the mind of the lovely orphan. The Mars-extreme beauty, her graceful manners, but, above all, dens were little qualified to afford her advice, as their her high health, which, in such a place, was the best of only object was to serve their own interest, and whether all recommendations, secured her a most favorable recepor not she accepted the dazzling offer of Rubinelli, they tion, and she found no difficulty in effecting an insurance had already determined to make her, in some way, a of several thousand pounds, at a comparatively low premeans of amassing wealth for them. mium. The facility with which this was obtained, seemed to suggest a new scheme to Mr. Marsden, and he earnestly advised Blanche to take advantage of her present blooming looks, in order to secure something more than a bare competence to Emily, in case of her sudden death. Ignorant of the details of business, and desirous of affording every advantage to her darling sister, Blanche eagerly caught at the idea, and gladly appropriated the greater part of her little property to the payment of premiums. Accompanied by her sister-inlaw, she visited five different offices, and actually effected insurances for one and two years, to the amount of sixteen thousand pounds. The policies were placed in the hands of Mr. Marsden, as trustee for the young Emily, so that he might be enabled to draw the monies, if, by any unhappy chance, they should fall due. Having thus, as she thought, secured Emily against all contingencies, she devoted herself to her new task, with a zeal only proportioned to her desire of success. Blanche pondered over the exciting thoughts which so brilliant a prospect awakened, until the world of dull realities around her, seemed wearisome and hateful to her. The romance which belongs more or less to the character of every woman, had hitherto been latent in that of the beautiful orphan. She had lived amid sordid cares and anxieties all her life long, and the dark beauty of Rubinelli's face was the first thing that awakened her heart to a sense of deep and strong emotions. When she sat alone, thinking over the bright scenes which fancy depicted as forming the life of an actress, she felt like one in a dream; Rubinelli seemed like some powerful enchanter, whose touch could turn this dull earth into a paradise, and she scarcely dared acknowledge, even to herself, how essential he had become to all her ideas of happiness. Surrounded by privations, tempted by the prospect of brilliant success-urged on by a growing attachment to the tempter, it is not strange that Blanche should have decided even as Rubinelli wished. She consented to become his pupil, and, according to a custom common in such cases, an agreement was drawn up, by which he bound himself to give her proper instruction, and fit her for the stage, upon condition that the proceeds of her professional engagements, for two years after her first appearance, should be appropriated to his use, reserving only a maintenance for herself and sister. There was something in this business-like arrangement which pained Blanche exceedingly. She could not bear to deal sordidly and calculatingly with one on whom she looked with such romantic interest, but the wily Maestro quieted her feelings, by assuring her that such a plan was necessary, in order to ensure her future appearance under his auspices. Nothing could exceed the vexation of the Marsdens when they were made acquainted with the terms of this agreement, which Rubinelli had been careful to keep out of their view, until it was quite complete. They had hoped to be benefited by Blanche's association with them, whether her future destiny was to be that of the humble sempstress, or the brilliant actress, but they now knew that they had been over-reached by one more cunning than themselves. They sought to shake Blanche's resolution, by telling her of the fatigue, the drudgery, the almost martyrdom to which she must submit, before she could hope to appear before a fastidious public. They endeavored to alarm her by the thought of her sister's destitute condition, in case her health should fail beneath the severe exertions she would be compelled to make; but Blanche felt that her course was taken, and it was now too late to retrace her steps. Rubinelli did not hesitate to strengthen, by every possible means, his influence over the susceptible girl. He saw that for his sake she submitted uncomplainingly to a degree of labor almost exhausting, and that his approbation was sufficient to repay her for every exertion. Selfish and calculating as he was, he yet could not be insensible to her innocent attachment, and he inly resolved that, if her success equalled his expectations, the agreement between them should be cancelled by a marriage bond. But the crafty musico had passed more than forty years amid the falsehood and dissimulation of a theatrical life. He could lime the bird without entrapping himself, and he meant to keep himself free 'till he should see the result of his pupil's efforts. How seldom are the depths of life sounded by human thought! We listen to the syren voice of the queen of song-we watch, with awe-struck emotion, the tragic grace of the stately actress-we gaze with delight upon the enchanting movements of the agile dancer, but seldom do we think of the means by which such fascination has been wrought. We know nothing of the fearful exhaustion of the breath of life which those bird-like notes have cost the singer-we have never witnessed the wearisome task work of the worn-out frame which alone could perfect the graceful gestures of the mimic heroine -we cannot imagine the torture of the painful practice which was required, ere those twinkling feet could attain their airy lightness. The life of the humblest peasant is one of ease compared with that of the brilliant actress, or the fame-crowned hero of an hour. Their lot is one of false and hollow splendor, while bodily fatigue, wea riness of soul, exhaustion of intellect, and sickness of the heart are its fatal consequences. Bright as may be their path at first, such, sooner or later, must be its end, and the few shining exceptions which may be pointed out, only prove the truth of the general rule. Hour after hour did Blanche labor daily to fit herself for her new vocation. Her love of music failed before the wearisome tasks now allotted to her, and she almost learned to loathe the sweetest strains that ever thrilled on a human ear, unless they issued from the lips, or echoed beneath the finger of Rubinelli, and then Eye, ear and heart, were all awake." How insidiously the love of this man had taken possession of the heart of Blanche! In all her dreams of the future, his image was ever present, and her highest ambition was to prove herself a worthy pupil of her master. But did her deep affection meet with its deserved return of reciprocal affection; Rubinelli was flattered by the evident affection of the beautiful being who hung upon his every word; he respected the purity of her feelings, and he calculated her chances of success. He was a worldly and selfish man, with some good yet glimmering through the ashes of a wasted life, and though Blanche, in comparison with him, was a creature of a higher sphere, he was capable of appreciating the excellence which he could not imitate. She had improved beyond his hopes, and he secretly determined to make her his wife as soon as a successful début should have confirmed her claims upon the attention of the musical world. By frequent attendance on the theatre, and a careful observation of the striking and effective points in acting, he familiarized her with much of the mystery of her future profession; but despite her resolute character, she had many misgivings as to the bold step she had taken, and it needed all his seductive flatteries to reconcile her to herself in her moments of despondency. of December, 18-, Blanche Hazelton, radiant in youthful loveliness, burst upon the view of assembled thousands. For a moment she paused, trembled, and grew faint, but the whisper of Rubinelli, from behind the scenes, reassured her-her beautiful lips parted to give utterance to the exquisite melody with which Rosina enters upon the scene. "Ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute." The sound of her voice, so long familiarized, by constant exercise, to the most difficult music, seemed to restore Blanche's self-possession. Her timidity vanished, the glow returned to her cheek, and her grace of manner was no longer restrained by her fears. Her success was perfect. The audience rose almost tumultuously as the scene closed, and when, in compliance with their wishes, she was led forward by Rubinelli, who had been, for years, a favorite with the public, their names were blended in the acclamations of the multitude. That night seemed to decide her destiny, and Blanche returned to her home, a successful actress, and the affianced bride of Rubinelli. The next morning the papers were filled with praises of the young and gifted songstress. Every one was in raptures with her graceful timidity, her brilliant beauty, and her exquisite voice. The lovers of music anticipated a rich treat during the coming season, and the Monsieur La Porte, the manager, congratulated Rubinelli upon the flattering prospects of his young pupil. But how did the morning dawn upon the young débutante? Did she awake from dreams of happy love and gratified ambition, to listen to the voice of the lover, and hearken to the plaudits of society? Wearied with fatigue and excitement, she had retired to her room, after a joyous supper with her family, and her absence from the breakfast-table occasioned little surprise. But when the day advanced towards noon, and still she was not visible, even Rubinelli became anxious. Mrs. Marsden repaired to her apartment, but no answer was returned to her reThe period of trial at length drew near, and it was peated calls; and feeling or feigning great alarm, Mr announced that the fastidious Maestro Rubinelli was Marsden at length forced open the door. What a scene about to bring forward a débutante of wonderful beauty presented itself! Reclining, as if in sleep, but with her and talent. The lovers of music were all on the alert, || beautiful lips parted as if by the touch of pain-her and for weeks previous to her first appearance, every || large eyes wide open, upturned and fixed in glassy dullseat in the opera house was taken. Blanche passed the ness, lay the young and lovely Blanche. Death had time in a state of feverish excitement. Again and struck her in the midst of her triumphs, and, while the again did she practice her part, until her lungs were flowers which strewed her pathway yet lay unwithered perfectly exhausted, and Rubinelli predicted for her the around her, she had fallen lifeless in the midst of them. most unbounded success. The character of Rosina, in the favorite opera of Il Barbiere di Seviglia,' was fixed upon for her début, as being a part particularly calculated to display the beauty of her person, and the rich tones of her voice, while it required a less elaborate style of acting than a more tragic character. Rubinelli,|| skilled in the mazes of the human heart, had so wrought up her feelings as to be in little doubt of her reception. He had more than hinted his affection for her, but at the same time, he had insinuated that nothing but the most brilliant success could ever induce him to yield to his passion; and Blanche felt that on her first appearance as an actress, depended not only her future fame, but her whole future happiness. Do you ask, gentle reader, how she died? It was said that excitement and the fatigue of an overwrought brain had overcome her; and the fearful word 'apoplexy,' was applied to the sudden blow. But the reve lations of time were of truer import. Months had passed away—the gentle Blanche was laid in her early grave, and the Marsdens, taking with them the unhappy child, Emily, had removed to Paris, where an application was made at the Insurance offices by an agent of Mr. Marsden, for the payment of the sums due the trustee of the deceased on the policies. When it was discovered for how large an amount, and in how many different offices the life of the hapless girl had been insured, suspicion as to the unfairness of her death, was first aroused, and The appointed hour arrived, and on the night of the payment was refused. A legal investigation now took place. It was proved that the day previous to Blanche's death, Mr. Marsden had purchased a small quantity of that deadliest of all poisons, prussic acid; it was also proved that on the night which witnessed her triumph and her destruction, Blanche had partaken of a supper with the Marsdens and Rubinelli; it was testified by the latter, who was still suffering from the disappointment of all his plans, that she had there eaten of a custard, prepared expressly for her by her sister-in-law, and flavored according to her taste, with peach water'but that no other of the company tasted of the same dish, as Mrs. Marsden, knowing Blanche's fondness for the flavored, had only made a small quantity with this particular condiment. Of course it was exceedingly difficult, after so long a time had elapsed, to establish the guilt of the parties concerned. But there was testimony enough to invalidate the policies, and, of course, to exonerate the offices from the payment of the amounts insured. The Marsdens had hoped to gain more from her death, than they could from her success in life, but they reaped not the benefit they had anticipated. Only their residence in a foreign land preserved them from the more serious consequences of their undoubted crime, and the little Emily owed her maintenance, in after life, to the interest which her sister's fate had excited. Such was the end of Blanche Hazelton. Youth, beauty and genius, had been offered up a sacrifice on the shrine of I was struck, recently, with an unfinished sketch by a young artist, who has since lost his reason from the It struck me as an eloquent symbol of his inward experiintense activity of a rarely-gifted, but ill-balanced mind. ence-a touching comment upon his unhappy fate. He called the design an artist's dream.' It represented the studio of a painter. An easel, a pallet, a port-folio, and other insignia of the art, are scattered with professional negligence about the room. At a table sits the youthful painter, his head resting heavily on his arm, buried in sleep. From the opposite side of the canvass the shadowy outlines of a long procession seemed wind ing along, the figures growing more indistinct as they receded. In the front rank, and with more defined countenances, walked the most renowned of the old masters, and pressing hard upon their steps, the humbler members of that noble brotherhood. It was a mere sketch-unfinished, but dimly mapped out, like the career of its author, yet full of promise, indicative of invention. It revealed, too, the dreams of fame that were agitating that young heart; and proved that his spirit was with the honored leaders of the art. This sketch is a symbol of the life of a true artist. Upon his Mammon. The life-insurance had been to her the fancy throng the images of those whose names are price of blood! NOTE. The preceding tale is founded on an incident mentioned in a recent review of Mr. De Morgan's Essay on Probabilities, and their Application to Life Insurance Offices.' The catastrophe was precisely such as I have narrated. It occurred in December, 1830, and the case was tried before Lord Abinger. Original. PARTING WORDS. No! the promise that was spoken When I breathed that vow, Oh! if thou wert yet pure-hearted, I had been thine own; Well thou know'st my trust was shaken, Ask'st thou if no vain repining I may not impart. But whate'er is hanging o'er me, Nay, no vows renew, Thou shalt hear no weak upbraiding, immortal. It is his day-dream to emulate the great departed to bless his race-to do justice to himself. The early difficulties of their career, and the excitement of their experience, give to the lives of artists a singular interest. West's first expedient to obtain a brushBarry's proud poverty, Fuseli's vigils over Dante and Milton; Reynolds, the centre ofa gifted society, and the 'devout quiet' of Flaxman's home, and similar memories, crowd upon the mind, intent upon their works. Existence, with them, is a long dream. I have ever honored the fraternity, and loved their society, and musing upon the province they occupy in the business of the world, I seem to recognize a new thread of beauty interlacing the mystic tissue of life. In speaking of the true artist, I allude rather to his principles of action, than to his absolute power of execution. Mediocrity, indeed, is sufficiently undesirable in every pursuit, and is least endurable, perhaps, in those with which we naturally associate the highest ideas of excellence. But when we look upon artists as a class-when we attempt to estimate their influence as a profession, our attention is rather drawn to the tendency of their pursuits, and to the general characteristics of its votaries. Man!" says Carlyle, "it is not thy works which are all mortal, infinitely little, and the greatest no greater than the least, but only the spirit thou workest in, that can have worth or continuance." In this point of view, the artist, who has adopted his vocation from a native impulse, who is a sincere worshipper of the beautiful and the picturesque, exerts an insensible, but not less real influence upon society, although he may not rank among the highest, or float on the stream of popularity. Let this console the neglected artist. Let this thought comfort him, possessed of one talent, if the spirit he|| habits from which want, alone, can rouse them. Others worketh in is true, he shall not work in vain. Upon some mind his converse shall ingraft the elements of taste. In some heart will his lonely devotion to an innocent but unprofitable object, awaken sympathy. In his very isolation-in the solitude of his undistinguished and unpampered lot, shall he preach a silent homily to the mere devotee of gain, and hallow to the eye of many a philanthropist, the scene of bustling and heartless traffic. become the most devoted students, and toil with unremitting energy. A French lady, attached to the Bourbon interest, has long dwelt in Italy, intent upon a monument to Charles X. Her talents for sculpture are of a high order, and her enthusiasm for royalty, extreme. Her hair is cut short like that of a man, and she wears a dark robe, similar to that with which Portia appears on the stage. Instances of a like self-devotion to a favorite project in art, are very common among those who are voluntary exiles in that fair land. I often muse upon the life of the true artist, 'till it redeems to my mind the more prosaic aspect of human Though the mere tyros in the field of letters and of existence. It is deeply interesting to note this class of art, those who pursue these liberal aims without either men in Italy. There they breathe a congenial atmos- the genius that hallows, or the disinterestedness that phere. Often subsisting upon the merest pittance, redeems them, are not worthy of encouragement-let indulging in every vagary of costume, they wander over respect await the artist whose life and conversation multithe land, and yield themselves freely to the spirit of || ply the best fruits of his profession-whose precept and adventure, and the luxury of art. They are encountered example are effective, although nature may have enwith their portfolios, in the midst of the lone Campagna, dowed him with but a limited practical skill. There is beside the desolate ruin, before the masterpieces of the a vast difference between a mere pretender and one gallery, and in the Cathedral-chapel. They roam the whose ability is actual but confined. A man with the streets of those old and picturesque cities at night, con- soul of an artist, is a valuable member of society, although gregate at the Caffè, and sing cheerfully in their studios. his eye, for color, may be imperfect, or his drawing occaThey seem a privileged class, and manage, despite their sionally careless. There is, in truth, no more touching frequent poverty, to appropriate all the delights of Italy.spectacle, than is presented by a human being whose They take long tours on foot, in search of the pictu-emotions are vivid, but whose expression is fettered; in resque; engage in warm discussions together, on ques-whose mind is the conception which his hand struggles tions of art, and lay every town they visit, under contri- in vain to embody, or his lips to utter. It is a contest bution for some little romance. It is a rare pastime to between matter and spirit, which angels might pity. It listen to the love-tales and wild speculations of these is this very struggle, on a broad scale, which it is the gay wanderers. The ardent youth from the Rhine, the great purpose of all art and all literature to relieve. pensioner from Madrid, and the mercurial Parisian, "It is in me, and it shall come out," said Sheridan, after smoke their pipes in concert, and wrangle good-humor- his first failure as an orator. And the trial of Warren edly over national peculiarities, as they copy in the Hastings brought it out. If we could analyze the pleapalaces. Thorwaldsen is wont to call his birth-day the sure derived from the poet and painter, I suppose it day on which he entered Rome. And when we consider would partake much of the character of relief. A great to what a new existence that epoch introduces the artist, tragedy unburdens the heart. In fancy we pour forth the expression is scarcely metaphorical. It is the dawn- the love, and partake of the sacrifice. And so art gratiing of a fresher and a richer life, the day that makes him fies the imagination by reflecting its pictures. The acquainted with the wonders of the Vatican, the palace lovely landscape, the faithful portrait, the grand historihalls, lined with the trophies of his profession, the daily cal composition, repeat, with more or less authenticity, walk on the Pincian, the solemn loneliness of the sur- the story that fancy and memory have long held within a rounding fields, the beautiful ruins, the long, dreamy day || less defined shape. The rude figures on the old tapes-and all the poetry of life at Rome. Whoever has try-the miniature illustrations of ancient missals-the frequently encountered Thorwaldsen in the crowded arabesques that decorate the walls of the Alhambra, saloons or visited him on a Sabbath morning, must have are so many early efforts to the same end. The invenread in his bland countenance and benignant smile, the tive designer, the gifted sculptor, the exquisite vocalist, record of his long and pleasant sojourn in the Eternal are ministers of humanity, ordained by Heaven. The city. To him it has been a theatre of triumph and very attempt to fulfil such high service, so it be made in benevolence. Everywhere in Italy are seen the enthu- all truthfulness, is worthy of honor. And where it is siastic pilgrims of art, who have roamed thither from even partially fulfilled, there is occasion for gratitude. every part of the globe. Each has his tale of self-denial, Hence I cannot but regard the worthy members of such and his vision of fame. At the shrines of Art they kneel professions with peculiar interest. They have stepped together. Year by year they collect, in the shape of aside from the common thoroughfare, to cultivate the sketches and copies, the cherished memorials of their flowers by the wayside. They have left the great loom visit. A few linger on, 'till habit makes the country of common industry, to weave "such stuff as dreams are almost necessary to their existence, and they establish|| made of." Their office is to keep alive in human hearts, themselves in Florence or Rome. Those whom neces- a sense of the grand in combination, the symmetrical in sity obliges to depart, tear themselves, full of tearful form, the beautiful in color, the touching in sound, the regret, from the genial clime. Many who come to labor, interesting in aspect of all outward things. They illuscontent themselves with admiring, and glide into dreamy trate even to the senses, that truth which is so often for |