now know, that this obstacle is no more to be dreaded. If, on the contrary, a new bar should form itself, they would know it by the soundings, the results of which, are carefully preserved, as a useful collection in a double point of view, for hydrography and geology. The Smithsonian Institute, the Patent Office, the works at the Observatory, and Mr. Maury's and Mr Bache's labors constitute, as we have seen at Washington, points of attraction amongst scientific men, which are not without their importance, and even grandeur. We must do justice to them in the impartial appreciation of the civilization of the United States. as a martyr of liberty, and another, when that man shows himself to be chimerical in his pretesnions, indexterous in his speeches, notwithstanding his cloquence, and when the good sense of the people, who received him with transports, detaches from his forehead that bright crown, which their enthusiasm had invested him with. Kossuth. closely observed in this saloon, where he was not sought after, and in which all discussion on politics was avoided, when he was obliged, to say something, to discuss the study of history and of languages. Kossuth, discontented, uneasy and fallen, appeared to me, I admit, very different from Kossuth radiant and triumphant. panion of the exile, and on whose account we could desire, that the success of her husband in America, might last longer. She addressed a charming reply to a lady, who advocated in New York the emancipation of woman. "My life has been so agitated, said Madame Kossuth, that I have not had time to study the question, of which you speak to me; but having the happiness to be the wife of a man, who inspires so much of the admiration amongst others, which I, myself, feel for him, you will find it natural, that I never thought of disputing his authority with him."-In short, the dinner was very agreeable. The Whig and Democratic candidates for the Presidency, amongst whom were Mr. Fillmore himself, Mr. Webster, General Cass, and General Scott, seemed to live on very good terms with each other. The abolitionist, Seward, chatted gaily with the partizans of the Compromise. The dinner was not quite as good as those given by M. de Sartiges, but it was not too republican, and every thing wore the seal of simplicity in the manners of Mr. Fillmore, which was worthy of one, who might be considered the type of what an American President should be. I had the honor to be invited to dine at If we can be divided in some respects the President's with Kossuth, the speakers of about the Magyar tribune, it is impossible the two legislative Assemblies, Mr. Webster for us all not to be interested in Madame and other Ministers, and many of the Pre-Kossuth, the courageous and faithful comtenders to the approaching Presidency. I witnessed there a new scene in that drama of Kossuth's arrival in America, of which, I had seen in New York, a few weeks ago, such a brilliant exposition, and apparently, so full of promise. Public sentiment, as it progressed, has become much colder; it languishes, and almost presages, rather a flat denouement. They have not yet reached that point. Besides, the President, and the political men, whom he invited on that day, honored Kossuth as an illustrious exile, whose delivery was brought about through them, who chose the hospitality of their country, and they respect themselves too much to be wanting in regard towards him. He was placed on the right hand side of Mrs. Fillmore, and Mrs. Kossuth to the right of the President; but besides this, neither before, during, nor after dinner, was the slightest allusion made to the cause of Hungary. I noticed nothing but politeness towards the man, but no loud expression of sympathy for his cause, although certainly this sympathy every heart, nothing, in short, which might encourage him to hope for the political intervention of the United States in the affairs of Europe. Kossuth, who has the bad taste to love fantastic costumes, wore a cloak of black velvet, and appeared to me much less imposing in this dress, than when resting on his sword, he harangued the public in the Hall of the Castle Garden, at New York. Perhaps, I myself, was under the impression of the general coldness, which prevailed around me. It is one thing for a man to be received as a hero, by an enraptured crowd, when he has not already told them, what he asks for, and when he appears only was in Now that I have seen Canada, the north and west of the United States, Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Washington, the schools, the prisons, the hospitals, the elections, popular fêtes, Congress and the President, I wish to see other things. The cold weather, which surprized me, and which it was not at all my intention to experience, warns me to go and look for a milder climate, first, in the Southern part of the Union, at Charleston and New Orleans, and afterwards in Ha vana, and perhaps in Mexico. It is a country, which it is not so easy to reach, and to travel in, as the United States; but it is said to be curious from its antiquities, admirable, for the natural beauties which it presents, and unique, for the diversity of the climate within its borders. I find a further temptation in the acquaintance I made here with M. Calderon, who was Minister of Spain in Mexico, before he fulfilled that capacity in Washington, and with his clever wife, who bears his name, and has written a very interesting work, entitled "Life in Mexico." M. Calderon's obliging disposition has induced him to furnish me with letters of recommendation, which will ensure me a favorable reception, from the honorable name he left behind him in that country; but Mexico is rather far from Paris, whither I am obliged to return in four months, to re-open my academical course. All this is very tempting, and very difficult-we shall see. In the interval, I leave to-morrow for the South, a section which is the termination of a voyage, that allures me, and draws me irresistibly towards it. I. In Ir was a wild, boisterous evening at the commencement of winter. The wind, howling in fearful gusts, swept the earth as with a whirlwind, booming and rushing with a force seldom met with in an inland county. The rain descended in torrents, pattering against the window-panes, especially against those of a solitary farm-house, situated several miles from the city of Worcester. fact, it seemed a battle between the wind and the rain which should treat the house most roughly; but the wind was the worst. It roared in the chimneys, it shook the old gables on the roof, burst open the chamber casements, and fairly unseated the weathercock from its perch on the barn. The appearance of the dwelling would seem to denote that it belonged to one of the middle class of agriculturists. There was no finery about it, inside or out, but plenty of substance. A large room, partaking partly of the parlor, partly of the hall, and somewhat The occurrences about to be related in this tale of the "Self-Convicted," took place many years ago ia Worcestershire. An author's license has been taken with the details, and the names are changed; but the chief facts are perfectly authentic. of the kitchen, was the general sitting-room; and in this apartment, on this same turbulent Friday evening; sat, knitting by fire-light, a middle-aged lady, homely, but very neat, in her dress. "Eugh!" she shuddered, as the wind roared and the rain dashed against the windows, which were only protected by inside shutters, "what a night it is! I wish to goodness Robert would come home." Laying down her knitting, she pushed the logs together on the hearth, and was resuming her employment, when a quiet, sensiblelooking girl, apparently about one or twoand-twenty, entered. Her features were not beautiful, but there was an air of truth and good-nature pervading them extremely pleasing. "Well, Jane," said the elder lady, looking up, "how does she seem now?" Her ankle is in less pain, mother," was the reply, "but it appears to me that she is getting feverish. I gave her the draught." "A most unfortunate thing!" ejaculated Mrs. Armstrong. "Benjamin at home ill, and now Susan must get doing some of his work, that she has no business to attempt, and falls down the loft, poor girl, and sprains her ankle. Why could she not have trusted I hope it is not Darnley!" cried Jane, involuntarily. 'Jane," rebuked her mother, "you are very obstinate to persist in this dislike of a neighbor. A wealthy young man, with a long lease of one of the best farms in the county over his head, is not to be sneezed at. What is there to dislike in James Darnley ?" "I-I don't know that there is anything particular to dislike in him," hesitated Jane, "but I cannot see what there is to like." "Don't talk foolishly, but go and open the door," interposed Mrs. Armstrong; "you hear the knocking." Jane made her way to the house-door, and, withdrawing the chain and bolt, a rush of wind, a shower of rain, and a fine-looking young man, sprang in together. The latter clasped Jane round the waist, and if the truth must be told-brought his lips into contact with hers. 'Oh!" said Mrs. Armstrong, in a very short tone. "Get those shirts of your father's, Jane, and look to the buttons; there they lie, on the sideboard. And light the candles; you cannot see to work by firelight." "How are you, Mrs. Armstrong ?" inquired the young man, in a cheerful tone, as he entered and seated himself on the opposite side of the large fireplace. "What an awful night! I am not deficient in strength, but it was as much as I could do to keep my feet coming across the land." "Ah!" said Mrs. Armstrong, plying her knitting-needles with great energy, "you would have been better at home.' "Home is dull for me now," was the an I wish I dare. But I fear it will take time and trouble to win the wife I should like to have." "There's a deal of trouble in getting a wife -a good one; as for the bad ones, they are as plentiful as blackberries. There have been two or three young blades lately wanting to be after Jane," continued the shrewd Mrs. Armstrong, "but I put a stop to them. at once, for she is promised already.” "Promised!" echoed Ronald. Of course, she is. Her father has promised her to Mr. Darnley; and a good match it will be." "A wretched sacrifice," exclaimed Payne, indignantly. "Jane hates him." "How do you know that?" demanded Mrs. Armstrong, sharply. "I hate him too," continued the excited Ronald. "I wish he was a thousand miles away." And the conversation continued in this strain until Jane returned, when another loud knocking at the house-door was heard above the wind. "Allow me to open it," cried Mr. Payne, starting up; and a second stranger entered the sitting-room. "How are you, Mr. Darnley? I am very glad to see you," was the cordial salutation of Mrs. Armstrong." Come to the fire; and, Jane, go and draw a tankard of ale. Susan has managed to sprain her ankle to-night, and cannot stir a step," she explained. "An unlucky time for it to happen, for our in-door man went home ill three days ago, and is not back yet. Did you ever know such weather?"° "Scarcely," returned the new comer. "As I rode home from the fair, I thought the wind could not be higher, but it gets worse every hour." "You have been to the fair, then ?" "Yes. I had a heavy lot of stock to sell. I saw Mr. Armstrong there; he was buying, I think." "I wish he would make haste home," was Mrs. Armstrong's answer. "It is not a desirable night to be out in." "A pretty prospect for going to Worcester market to-morrow!" observed Darnley. But need you go?" I shall go, if it rains cats and dogs," was the gentleman's reply. "My business today was to sell stock-to-morrow, it will be to buy." Jane entered with the silver tankard, its contents foaming above its brim like a mountain of snow, and placed it on a small, round table between the two young men. They sat there, sipping the ale occasionally, now one, now the other, but angry words passed continually between them. Darnley was fuming at the evident preference Jane accorded to his rival, and Payne fretted and chafed at Darnley's suit being favored by Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong. They did not quite come to a quarrel, but it was little short of it, and, when they left the house together, it was in anything but a cordial humor. 66 Jane, what can have become of your father?" exclaimed Mrs. Armstrong, as the door closed upon the two young men; "it is hard upon ten o'clock. How late it will be for him to go to Wilson's: he will have, as it is, to call him up, for the man must have been in bed an hour ago." Now it is universally known that farmers in general, even the most steady, have an irresistible propensity to yield to one temptation-that of taking a little drop too much on a fair or market night. Mr. Armstrong was not wholly exempt from this failing, though it was rare indeed that he fell into the snare. For a twelvemonth, at the least, had his family not seen him the worse for liquor, yet, as ill-luck would have it, he came in on this night stumbling and staggering, his legs reeling one way, and his head flying the other. How he got home was a mystery to Mrs. Armstrong, and to himself also when he came to his senses. As to making him comprehend that an accident had befallen Susan, and that, in consequence, he was wanted to go and tell one of the out-door men to be at the house early in the morning, it was not to be thought of. All that could be done with him was to get him up-stairs -a feat that was at length accomplished. "This is a pretty business, Jane!" cried the indignant Mrs. Armstrong. "You will be obliged to milk the cows in the morning now." "Milk the cows!" returned Jane, aghast at the suggestion. "What else can be done? Neither you nor I can go to tell Wilson at this time of night, and in such a storm: and the cows must be milked. You can milk, I suppose?" Oh, mother!" was Jane's remonstrance. "I ask if you can milk?" repeated Mrs. Armstrong, impatiently-she was by far too much put out to speak otherwise. "I have never tried since I was a child," was Jane's reply. "I sometimes used to do it then, for pastime." "Then, my dear, you must do it once for use. It would be a mercy," continued the excited lady, "if all the public-houses and their drinkables were at the bottom of the sea." Jane Armstrong was a girl of sound sense and right feeling. Unpalatable as the employment was, she nevertheless saw that it was her duty, under the present circumstances, to perform it; so she quietly made up her mind to the task, and requested her mother to call her at the necessary hour in the morning. They were highly respectable and respected people, Robert Armstrong and his wife, though not moving in the sphere exclusive to gentlefolks. Jane had been brought up well. Perfectly conversant with all household duties, her education in other respects would scarcely have disgraced the first lady in the county for it must be remembered that education then was not what it is now-and her parents could afford to spend money upon their only child. Amply she repaid them, by her duty and affection. One little matter only did they disagree upon, and that not openly. Very indignant was Mrs. Armstrong at Ronald Payne's presuming to look up to her, and exceedingly sore did she feel with Jane for not checking this presumption. But she could urge nothing against Ronald, excepting that he was a poor, rather than a rich, man, and that the farm he rented was regarded as an unproductive one. His pretensions created a very ill-feeling towards him in Mrs. Armstrong's mind, for she believed that, but for him, her daughter would consent to marry the wealthy James Darnley, and so become mistress of his splendid farm. Before it was light the next morning, Jane left the house with her milk-pail: only the faintest glimmering of light was appearing in the east. There was no rain, and the wind had dropped to a calm; but it was a cold, raw morning. Jane wrapped her woollen shawl closely round her, and made good speed. The field in which the cow-sheds were situated was bounded on the left by a lonely lane, leading from the main road. It branched off in various directions, passing some of the farm-houses. Jane had reached the field, and was putting down her milkpail, when a strange noise on the other side of the hedge caused her to start, and listen. A violent struggle, as for life or death, was taking place. A voice that was certainly familiar to her twice called out "Murder!" with a shriek of agony; but heavy blows, seemingly from a club or other formidable weapon, soon silenced it, and some one fell to the earth amidst moans and groans of anguish. "Lie there, and be still!" burst forth another voice, rising powerfully over the cries. "What! you are not finished yet! I have laid in wait for ye to a pretty purpose, if ye be to escape me now. One! two! three!" and Jane shuddered and turned sick as she listened, for each sentence was followed by a blow upon the prostrate form. The voice was totally strange to Jane-one that she had never heard in her life-and shocking blasphemy was mingled with the words. Ere silence supervened, Jane, half stupefied with horror and fear, silently tore her thick shoes off her feet, leaving them where they were, in her agitation, and stole away on the damp path, gathering her clothes about her, so that not a sound should betray her presence to those on the other side. As she widened the distance between herself and that fearful scene, her speed increased; she flew, rather than ran, and entered her father and mother's bedroom to fall senseless on the floor. heard it from Mrs. Armstrong's own lips. They were at her house last night quarrelling and contending, and she knows he is the murderer." "Ronald Payne!" echoed the crowd, with one universal accent of surprise and incredulity. "As God is my Judge," cried the unhappy young man, for he was also present, "I am innocent of this deed !" "You have long been upon ill terms," retorted the before-mentioned bystander-and it may be remarked that he was an acquaintance of Payne's; had never borne anything but kind feeling towards him; yet now, so gratifying is it to the vain display and pride of human nature to be mixed up with one of these public tales of horror, he suddenly became his vehement accuser. "Mrs. Armstrong says that you left her house bickering with each other, and she heard you assert, before he was present, that you hated him, and you wished he was a thousand miles away.' That is all true," answered Ronald, turning his clear eye to the crowd, who now began to regard him with doubt. "We were bickering one with the other at Mrs. Armstrong's last night; not quarrelling, but talking at each other; but no ill words passed between us after we left the house. We walked peaceably together, and I left him at his own door. I never saw him afterwards till I saw him here with you, lying dead." Words of doubt, hints of suspicion, ran through the multitude, headed by the contumacious bystander, and Ronald Payne's cheeks, as he listened, burned like fire. "How can you think I would have a hand in such an awful deed!" he indignantly exclaimed. "Can you look in my face, and believe me one capable of committing mur der?" Later in the morning, when broad daylight had come, a crowd stood around the murdered man. The face was bruised and bloody, and the head had been battered to "Faces don't go for nothing, sir," interdeath; but there was no difficulty in recog-posed the constable, Samuel Dodd, who had nizing the features of James Darnley. His come bustling up, and heard the accusation pockets were turned inside out; they had made; "we dont take 'em into account in been rifled of their contents, and a thick, these matters. I am afeared, sir, it is ray knotted stick, covered with brains and hair, duty to put the ancuffs on you." lay by his side. It was supposed he had a heavy sum about him in his pockets, but all had been abstracted. "Handcuffs on me!" exclaimed Ronald, passionately. You may be wanted, at the crowner's quest, and perhaps at another tribune after that. It is more than my office is worth to let you be at large." "Do you fear I should attempt to run away ? retorted Ronald. 66 Such steps have been heered on, sir," 17 |