arrived at Bourdeaux, the place of his destination. On going to the Chateau Trompette in the dusk of the evening, he was so fortunate as to meet Pierre Rigaud. The veteran had acquainted the friends of the Chevalier with his situation, and was thus able to supply him with resources, and to conduct him to a place of concealment in an obscure part of the town. Here Colonel D'Avenant waited in suspense for several weeks, but at length he obtained a fictitious passport, and embarked in a vessel bound for the United States of America, where, notwithstanding the act of amnesty which has been passed, he still remains to participate in the advantages of those valuable rights and privileges for which he had fought and suffered, and which can only be fully enjoyed in a land of light and liberty.

BOAT SONG.

"Eripite o socii, pariterque iusurgite remis."

BEND on your oars-for the sky it is dark,

And the wind it is rising apace!

For the waves they are white with their crests all so bright,
And they strive as if running a race.

Tug on your oars-for the day's on the wane,
And the twilight is deepening fast;

For the clouds in the sky show the hurricane nigh,
As they flee from the face of the blast.

Stretch on your oars-for the sun it is down,
And the waves are like lions in play,

The stars they have fled, and no moon is o'erhead
Or to point or to cheer our lone way.-

Rise on your oars-let the bright star of hope
Be seen 'mid the tempest's wild roar ;

And cheer, lads! for we who were born on the sea,
Have weather'd such tempests before.

Rest on your oars-for the haven is won,
And the tempest may bluster till morn;

For the bold and the brave are now freed from the wave
Where they late roam'd so lonely and lorn.

ELIZABETH LATIMER.*

Ir is hard that, with man, talent, combined with perseverance, should be almost omnipotent to overcome obstacles the most numerous and formidable, while in the hands of women, it is often wholly useless, unless fortunate circumstances, such as wealthy or literary connexions, obtain for the possessor the opportunity of gaining by its display, fortune and fame. The spirit of enterprise that characterizes the present age, gives to man ample room and verge enough' to pursue any plan that genius may suggest. The world is all before him. From pole to pole he may choose whether to add to the history of his species by voyages and discoveries, or, by speculations at home, direct the movements of argosies. In literature he has only to give to the world the treasures of his mind, the musings of his solitude, or the recollections of his youth, and let it but bear the stamp of genius it will meet with an All hail! But it is not so with woman. Few and rugged are the paths by which her genius, unaided and alone, may climb even to competence. Natural timidity, a retired education, the fear of encou, 'ering the prejudice that has so long condemned her to a subordinate rank of intellect, and which, by a strange perverseness, finds a charm in the helplessness of those beings from whom at times are demanded self-denial and exertion, all cast a spell round her, which is seldom broken by her single efforts. There are not more mute, inglorious Miltons in a country churchyard than among the number of women doomed to the exercise of some spirit breaking, monotonous craft in order to procure means for the support of existence.

The daughter of Neckar might find in the brilliant circles of Paris a field for the display of her lofty powers. Miss Edgeworth, Miss Baillie, and some few others have been led by judicious and encouraging friends, to break through the obstacles which society opposes to the acquisition of female literary excellence, and to give occasion for doubts on the question whether there be, as the uncourteous physiologist Lawrence asserts, a sex to the mind. Many, unwilling to yield to the public the charms of a mind cultivated in retirement, form the delight of a domestic circle, and impart their accomplishments to their sons or daughters, but there are many, a great many, who have neither father, friend, nor brother of suf

* From The Legendary, consisting of Original Pieces, principally illustrative of American History, Scenery, and Manners. Edited by N. P. Willis. Boston, 1828.' vol. II.

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ficient importance to force them, with gentle violence before the world; who have, alas! no domestic circle, no sons or daughters, and who, from a reverse of fortune, feel their highest aspirations, their brightest dreams of fancy, chilled and dispelled by anxiety about to-morrow's fare.'

Such an isolated being was Elizabeth Latimer, who, at twentyfour, found herself in possession of an accomplished mind, a memory stored with reading of the best kind, and a judgment accustomed to exercise itself from its earliest developement; and this, with a graceful person and a countenance of great sweetness and intelligence, was pretty nearly all that Elizabeth possessed. She had been for many years the only daughter of a merchant, who, though he did not, like some of the merchants of this city, draw his resources from all the ends of the earth, yet possessed enough for the indulgence of luxury. The indications of talent which he very early discovered in the young Elizabeth, determined him to bestow on her an education that would save her from adding to the number of those precocious geniuses, who, from a misapplication of their powers, become unfit either for the daily concerns of life, or to hold a place among those who are gradually procuring indulgence and respect for female intellect. With this view he engaged a gentleman who had been a classmate of his, and who had devoted himself to literature, to take up his abode with him and assist him in cultivating his daughter's mind.

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You will easily understand,' he wrote to Mr Elliot, with what different eyes I look upon this subject from those with which I regarded it twenty years ago. To have mind enough to love and obey me, and, withal, think me supremely wise, was quite mind enough in a wife, but I am willing to pay it greater respect since I find it in my darling Elizabeth. As I am as anxious about her moral as her intellectual education, I dread, lest, being an only child, and surrounded by all that will tend to her gratification, she may form habits of selfishness, against which no warnings, no precepts will avail. A companion of her own age would secure her from this risk, and I can think of no one so well suited, on all accounts, to be brought up with my little girl as your own MariI need not assure you how entirely like my own daughter she shall be considered.'

anne.

We will not detail the progress of Elizabeth's studies. They were such as opened her young mind to all that was lovely in virtue and lofty and excellent in intellect. She lived principally in the country, in a small but intelligent circle, sufficiently enlightened to

† Boston.

save them from the dominion of a gossiping spirit, yet not so learned as to allow her to acquire anything like a pedantic one.

The tranquillity of their own house had received a startling shock when Elizabeth was about fifteen, by Mr Latimer's bringing home a second wife, very little more than her own age, but of entirely different temper, habits, and tastes. It was then that Mr Latimer perceived that he had done wisely in giving to Elizabeth habits by which she could abstract her thoughts from the jarrings of a step-mother, jealous of her, of her gentle friend Marianne, of Mr Elliot, of every thing that her husband loved. But their school of trial did not last long. Mrs Latimer only lived to present her husband with a son, and expired, leaving all the family with just such sensations as one feels on awaking from an uncomfortable dream, and Elizabeth and her father heaved a sigh of relief as they inwardly responded Amen!' to the clergyman of the village who came to pay them a visit of consolation.

When Elizabeth entered into society, she carried with her many warnings from her father to avoid the display of acquirements which were not common to all. She listened, determined to profit by his advice, though she felt there was some injustice in laying this embargo upon wit and learning. 'Why,' thought she, 'should miss C-be permitted, nay, solicited, to display her playing and singing, both excellent enough to excite envy, while all the powers that I possess must be so sedulously concealed? However, as there is no reasoning to any purpose on this apparent inconsistency, I will try to resemble the greater part of the world I am going to mingle with;' and in imagination she behaved with perfect discretion, occupied only in veiling the mistakes of the ignorant, in drawing out the talents of the timid, nicely discriminating when and with whom to talk seriously or lightly, and gliding through society with all the tact which only a knowledge of the world, gained by one's own experience and much practice in that world, can give. But poor Elizabeth found herself sadly at a loss when she encountered a bewildering number of new faces, whose ready smiles and pliancy of expression concealed all that was passing in the heart. She felt it as impossible to catch the light tone of those around her, to talk of nothing, to express rapture and enthusiasm where she felt only indifference, as it would have been for one of the gay circle to have shone forth as an improvisatrice. Being perfectly unaffected and simple, she took refuge in silence; but her speaking countenance often betrayed the listlessness she felt, and as the silence of persons who are known, or supposed to be able, to talk well, is looked upon with an invidious eye, she felt a degree of restraint, whether she spoke or not, which prevented her ever taking

The

much pleasure in the amusements of the world. But there were some whom she did please, and that in no moderate degree. cultivated and intelligent found a charm in her manner that they recollected with pleasure long after she had retired from society. She had a happy facility of passing from subject to subject by an easy gradation, so as never to fatigue by dwelling too long on one topic, nor to startle by an abrupt and violent digression; an art which is seldom well understood. We are too apt to suppose that the same associations exist in our companion's mind as in our own, and suddenly transport him from sea to sky and back again, with a suddenness that makes our conversation appear little better than cold disjointed chat.

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'That is a very charming woman,' said Mr Leslie to his neighbour, as Elizabeth withdrew with the ladies from a large dull dinner party; 'I have not met any one so piquante and original for a long while.' Who? Miss Latimer? oh, true! but I suspect she has sharpened her wits by an acquaintance with Horace.' 'How!' rejoined Leslie; you do not mean to say that that pretty girl quotes Horace?' 'No; I never heard her quote at all; I must do her that justice; but she seems to have had her eyes opened to the follies of mankind.'Well, but the English satirists may have done her that service, though I cannot recollect hearing her say any thing that touched upon her neighbour's follies.' Wait a little; you will every now and then hear something that shows more reading than you at first suspect her of. Besides, she always fatigues me by her allusions. I do not find a half hour's chat with her any relaxation.'

Now I, on the contrary,' said Leslie, 'have been delighted with what you complain of. There is something, too, very novel and attractive in her manner. There is no effort. She gives herself up to the animation of the moment with an absence of art or affectation that is quite enchanting.' Upon my word you seem quite epris. I will tell Mrs Leslie of you.' 'I shall tell her myself. She will be equally pleased with her, for Mrs Leslie is as great a worshipper of talent as I am, whether it be found in man or woman.'

Unfortunately for Elizabeth, both Mr and Mrs Leslie were called suddenly from Boston by the death of a relative, and the impres sion made on the mind of the former was dissipated by business and a variety of scenes. About this time Elizabeth lost her friend Marianne, who married an English gentleman and accompanied him to England. Mr Elliot was persuaded to join them, and Mr Latimer found his household reduced to a small number. But his mind seemed too much occupied to miss his companions, and, to Elizabeth's grief, she discovered that her father was bent upon