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UNION OF LITERARY COMPOSITIONS.gree of fame in the world, and who will shortly appear before his Maker; read the Bible every day of your life."

Ar a large literary party in Edinburgh, in the course of conversation, it was mentioned that a certain well known literary caracter had written two poems, one called "The Pebble," the other "The Ocean;" that he was offering them to the booksellers, who, however, would not accede to his terms of publication; and that the worthy author was, therefore, puzzled not a little as to what he should do with his productions. "Why," remarked a sarcastic gentleman who was present, "I think the doctor could not do better than throw the one into the other."

HOT AND COLD.

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A CLERGYMAN one Sabbath, in his sermon, had been supporting the doctrine, that "whatever is, is right," and, that "what God had made, was well made." One of the overseers of the parish, who had a protuberant back, and was short and crocked, followed him out of the church, and in the porch thus addressed him: If all things, Sir, are well made, how came I not to be so? The parson instantly ascertaining the mensuration of his figure, told him, that he considered him well made for a cripple.

"My dear, the fowls have nearly destroyed the garden. Did you not see them there while I was absent?" "Yes, love; but I could not bear the thought of driving them away, they seemed to take so much pleasure scratching.

MEMORY OF A MOTHER.-John Randolph some years since addressed himself to a friend as follows: "I used to be called a French man, because I took the French side in politics; aud though this was unjust, yet the truth is, I should have been a French Atheist if it had not been for one recollection, and that was the time when my departed mother used to take my little hands in hers, and cause me on my knees to repeat, "Our Father which art in Heaven."

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The Rural Repository.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 27, 1849.

NOTICE TO AGENTS, &c. THE present Post Office Law, will probably prevent our sending a Large Prospectus as heretofore, in consequence of the extra expense; but the matter contained in one, and all the necessary information concerning Clubs, etc. can be ascer tained from the one on our last page. We respectfully solicit all our subscribers to endeavor to get up a Club in their vicinity for this Volume.

VALUABLE RECIPES.

MARBLE CEMENT.-Take plaster of paris and soak in a saturated solution of alum, then bake the two in an oven, the same as gypsum is baked, to make the plaster of Paris; after which they are ground to powder. It is then used as wanted,

being mixed up with water, like plaster, and applied. It sets into a very hard composition, capable of taking a very high polish. It may be mixed with various coloring minerals to produce a cement of any color capable of imitating marble.This is a very rare recipe.

A WATER-PROOF GLUE.-Melt common glue in the smallest possible quantity of water, and add by drops linseed oil that has been rendered drying by having a small quantity of litharge boiled in it; the glue being briskly stirred when the oil is added.

ICY STEPS.-Salt strewed upon the door-steps in winter will cause the ice to crack, so that it can be easily removed.

FRECKLES. Take two ounces of lemon juice, a half drachin of powdered borax, and one drachm of sugar. Mix together, and let them stand in a glass bottle for a few days, then rub it on the hands and face occasionally.

FLYING RHEUMATISM.-Take princes pine tops, horse radish roots, elecampane roots, prickly ash bark, bittersweet bark off the root, wild cherry bark and mustard seed-a small handful of each; One gill of tar water into one pint of brandy, or the same proportion. Drink a small glass before eating, three times a day.

EYE WATER.-Take half an ounce of white copperas and dissolve it in a pint of soft water. Wet the corners of the eye 3 or 4 times a day or every hour. Another, take of white vitriol as large as a large pea, the same of salt, an ounce of water, and a small piece of opium. Use 2 or 3 times a day.

CLEANSING PAINT.-The best thing for cleaning oil paint is with water. Soap dissolves the turpentine as well as the lina sponge dipped in Ammonia which has been copiously diluted seed oil, and not only destroys the smooth and shiny surface, but exposes also the lead to the influence of the water and air, and is, therefore, not practical.

TO SET COLORS.-An ox's gall will set any colors-silk, "I NEVER laid a wager in my life; and I will in-cotton, or woollen. A correspondent says he has seen the form you, sir, that I am not a blackleg." "Then colors of calico, which fude at one washing, fixed by it. you are no better," was the reply.

"I SHALL leave soon," as the oak said to the pine in the spring. "You'll be green if you do," was the reply.

IN marriages, formerly, the lady was allowed so much per month pin money. The gents now spend so much per month ten-pin money.

"I WONDER What makes my eyes so weak” said a loafer to a gentleman. 66 Why, they are in a weak place," replied the latter.

You might have had a deal more wit, Papa, had you been governed by my Mamma. Child! he who is governed by his wife, has no wit at all.

IT has been remarked that "the climax of hu. man indifference has arrived, when a wonran don't care how she looks."

CHARLES LAMв says, "My bed-fellows are cough and cramp; we sleep three in a bed."

*--

THE only way to be permanently safe is to be habitually honest.

Dr. SAMUEL JOHNSON is distinguished as a writer on morals; his compositions have seldom been ex. celled in energy of thought, and beauty of expression. To a young gentleman, who visited him on his death bed, he said. "Young man, attend to the voice of one who has possessed a certain de--to the poor hope.

FOTUNE is more equally balanced, after all, than half the world think it; to the rich it gives fear

Letters Containing Remittances, Received at this Office, ending Wednesday last, deducting the amount of postage paid.

R.S. C. Poughkeepsie, N. Y. $1,00; P. S. Wallingford, Vt. $3,00; S. F. Bristol, N. Y. $2.00; A. M. Canisteo, N. Y. $1,00; T. M. H. East Clarenden, N. Y. $4,00; E. H. G. Le Roy, N. Y. $5,00; A. S. Union Square, N. Y. $5,00; H. W. East Bethel, Vt. $1.00; W. H. W. Brooklyn, N. Y. $2.00; R. V. V. Clifton Park, N. Y. $1,00; H. B. Croton Point, N. Y. $1.00; E. H. G. Le Roy, N. Y. $3.00; H. W. H. Nashville, Tenn. $5.00; P. A. V. V. Stuyvesant, N. Y. $8,75; O. R. B. West Pittsfield, Ms. $6,00.

MARRIAGES.

In this city, on the 9th inst. at the Mansion House, by the Rev. Mr. Coles, Mr. N. A. J. Campbell to Miss Lydía E. Bush, both of Westfield, Mass.

By the Rev. Dr. Gosman, Jacob Glady to Frederika Shuldhis, both of Poughkeepsie.

On the 31st August, by the Rev. G. Collins, Mr. Nathaniel B. Brown, Esq. of Sherburne, to Miss Sarah D. Hamlin, eldest daughter of Mr. John Hamlin of this city.

At Hillsdale, by Rev. Mr. Himrod, Mr. Lawrence L. Lant, of Kinderhook, to Miss Elizabeth Hess, of Hilsdule.

At Chatham 4 Corners, on the 15th inst. by the Rev. E. Backers, Esq. Mr. Edward F. Powers to Miss Louisa G. Hindsdall, both of Hartford City, Conn.

At Greenport, on the 17th inst. by the Rev. George Cole, Edward A. Roraback, Esq. to Miss Almira second daughter of the Hon. John Kipp, Esq. of Greenport.

At Mellenville, on the 9th inst. by the Rev. Mr. Himrod, Mr. John E. Fonda, to Miss Alida M. Delemater, both of Claverack.

DEATHS.

In this city, on the 12th inst. Mrs. Susan King, aged 83 years. On the 20th, Miss Hannah Newberry.

On the 21st inst. Clarinda, youngest daughter of Hamilton B. and Harriet Geary, aged 14 months and 2 weeks. At Mount Ida, Troy, James Nixon, Esq. aged 73 years, formerly a resident of this city.

At Hillsdale, on the 8th inst. Henry G. son of James W. and Catharine R. White, aged 16 years.

At Hartford, on the 16th inst. Mrs. Matilda Studley, wife of Mr. Walter Studley, aged 65 years.

Original Poetry.

For the Rural Repository.

PRIMAL BEAUTY.

BY H. S. BALL.

THERE is beauty in the morning, when the lark is on the

wing,

Floating upward in the blue, until hidden from the view; When the flowers ope their eyes, and the linnets sweetly sing, And the dew-drops glisten, in the sun as we listen, To the early gushing music, of the birds in the spring;

Oh the song, of the morn, as it gaily floats along, Leaves a blessing in the pathway, of its dew dropping wing.

There is beauty at the mid-day, in the sun's clear-light,

As the zephyr gently breathes, through the forest's leafy trees;

In the sun's golden beam, as it wooes the water bright,

And is dancing on the tide, as the laughing ripples glide, Through their flower crowned banks, like a merry little sprite,

Thus at play, all the day, till the light dies away,

In the still deep shadows, of the thickly shrouded night.
There is beauty in the evening, when he light fades away,
And the stars sparkle bright, in the diadem of night,
With a brilliancy that rivals, the ruby's dazzling ray;
From their thrones in the skies, they are flashing in ou
eyes,

Till their diamond rays vanish in the broad light of day;
And we weep, as they sleep, in the quiet upper deep,
Hid in light, as the death God, hides our loved ones away.
There is beauty in the midnight, when the air is hushed and
still,

And its darky shadows sleep, on the quiet valley deep; While its dark hued robe, shrouds from sight the many ills, That crush the struggling spirit, while the earth we inherit;

From the depths of ether blue, beams a star-gem still,

With a light, flashing bright, through the dark gloom of night,

And it wakes our prisoned spirits, with a pleasurable thrill.

There is beauty in the thunder, when the vivid lightning streams,

From the cloud storm driven, and the stout oaks riven, By the bolt, as the fierce red flush through the dark sky gleams;

There is beauty in the air, there is beauty everywhere, And its higher inspirations, mid the world strife seems, Like the rest, of the blest, and our spirits are improved, With the beautiful evangels of a heaven taught dream. Norfork, Sept. 1849.

For the Rural Reposiery.

THE STARS.

BY AARON DE LANO.

WHEN peaceful nature, calm and still,
Is hushed in deep repose,
And night o'er all the slumbering earth,
Her sable curtain throws,

I love to wander forth, and gaze
Upon the starry sky,

And view those glittering" orbs of night,"
With an attentive eye.

Stern, eagle-eyed philosophy,
I do not ask thy aid,

To teach me for what wise design,

Those twinkling stars were made.
But I would rather view them still,
As erst in childhood's days,
Ere earth appeared so dark and drear,
Or life a thorny muze..

Yes, I would think upon them now, As I believed them then,, Bright angel's eyes placed in the skies, To mark the acts of men. Though wisdom frown, I'll not resign The ever pleasing thought, For nought beside to me on earth, Has half the pleasure brought. Maine Village, N. Y. 1849.

For the Rural Repository.

TO MISFORTUNE.
MISFORTUNE, through life you have followed my path,
Sometimes in one form, then another;
And though not a friend, yet surely you stick
More closely to me, than a brother.

I know all your garbs, your names too I know,
Though legion, they're none new to me;
I've drank of your cup, and your vials of wrath,
On my head you've poured unsparingly.
Of all that I've known beneath the bright sun,
You only endure to the last;

And as if to atone for the loss of all else,
In age, you cling closer and fast.
Divines and philosophers say, all of earth
Is passing away, and must die!

If well they knew thee, they'd acknowledge at once*
To their theory thou givest the lie,

So long in companionship close we have roam'd,
That should we by chance ever part;
Methinks the bereavement would reason dethrone,
Or warp the life strings of my heart.
But 'tis weak to suspect one, so constant as thou.
Or doubt, for a moment thy truth!

As well might I look for this care stricken brow
To wear the gay sunshine of youth.

Come on then misfortune, shake hands and be friends,

Since journey together we must; 'Twere best to seem civil and reconciled, lest

In anger thou deal me thy worst.

So jog we along down old time's murky tide,
I know thou'lt prove faithful and true;
Till Death kindly takes me from out of thy grasp,
Then misfortune, I'll bid thee adieu.
Hudson, Oct. 1849.

From the Olivo Branch.

"GOOD NIGHT! MOTHER-GOOD NIGHT!"
THE mother hung o'er her budding babe
And watched the vengeful strife,

Of the poison that coursed his purple veins,
With its swiftly fading life.

And the fear that marked his throbbing brow,
And shone from her strained eye,
Revealed too well that the stealthy foot
Of Death was treading nigh.

The babe looked up with a trustful smile,
To the mother all distraught,

And thought the dimness that veiled its eye,
Was the shadow the evening brought;
She twined her arins round the mother neck,
And her smile grew still more bright,
As she sweetly kissed, and faintly breathed-
"Good night! mamma-good night!"

Then Death came in and placed his "seal
Upon the tomb of hope,"

And the mother saw the eyelids close,
Never again to ope;

And her tears fell fast on the faded cheek,
And stained its pearly white,

While echo brought to her wounded car, Her babe's last fond "good night!"

Oh may we live so guiltless-trueThat when our summons comes To join the throng who peaceful rest In their eternal homes

No thought of sin shall in that hour, Our guilty souls affright,

But, like the innocent one, in death, Whisper a calm "good night!"

E.

BOUND VOLUMES.

ww

We now offer to the Public, at the lowest possible reduced prices, any of the following Volumes, viz: Vols. 11, 12, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 23, 24, and 25, handsomely done up in Pamphlet style, with Cloth Backs, and thick Colored Paper sides; one side printed with Title Page, the other with beautiful Engravings. These will be furnished for 624 Cents single, Eleven Copies for $5.00. They will last nearly as long as those bound, and as they are trimmed a size larger it will not injure them for future binding.

Also the same Volumes half bound, in a very neat and tasteful style, with Leather Backs and Colored Paper sides, with Printed Title Page, &c. for 75 Cents single, or Nine Copies for $5.00.

Also the same volumes half bound, in a neat, substantial and durable manner, with Leather Backs and Corners, Marble Paper sides and Lettered on the Back, for $1,00 single, or Seven Copies for $5.00.

The Postage on the Stitched Volumes, will be about 17 Cents; the Half Bound, 20 Cents to any part of the United States.

We have also on hand any of the Volumes above mentioned bound in Double Volumes (two Vols. in one,) for $2,00 single or Three Double Volumes for $4.50. These are bound in the neatest and most substantial manuer. Postage about 40 Cts. each to any part of the United States.

New Volume, October, 1849.

RURAL REPOSITORY,

Vel. 26, Commencing Oct. 13, 1849,

EMBELLISHED WITH NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS.

Price $1 Clubs from 45 to 75 Cents.

THE RURAL REPOSITORY will be devoted to Polite Literature, containing Moral and Sentimental Tales, Original Communications, Biographies, Traveling Sketches, Amusing Miscellany, Humorous and Historical Anecdotes, Valuable Recipes, Poetry, &c. The first Number of the Twenty-sixth Volume of the RURAL REPOSITORY will be issued on Saturday the 13th of October, 1849.

The "Repository" circulates among the most intelligent families of our country and is hailed as a welcome visitor, by all that have favored us with their patronage. It has stood the test of more than a quarter of a century; amid the many changes that have taken place and the ups and downs of life, whilst hundreds of a similar character have perished, our humble Rural has continued on, from year to year, until it is the Oldest Literary Paper in the United States.

GONDITIONS.

THE RURAL REPOSITORY will be published every other Saturday in the Quarto form, containing twenty six numbers of eight pages each, with a title page and index to the volume, making in the whole 208 pages. It will also be embellished with numerous Engravings, and consequently it will be one of the neatest, cheapest, and best literary papers in the country.

TERMS.

ONE DOLLAR per annum, invariably in advance. We have a few copies of the 11th, 12th, 16th, 17th, 18th, 19th, 20th, 21st, 23d, 24th and 25th volumes, and any one sending for he 26th volume, can have as many copies of either of these volumes as they wish at the same rate as that volume. All volumes not mentioned above will not be sold, except when a whole set is wanted.

Clubs Clubs! Clubs! Clubs!!

2 Copies for $1,50, being 75 Cents Each.

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Names of subscribers with the amount of Subscription to

he sent as soon as possible to the publisher.

No subscription received for less than one year. All the back numbers furnished to new subscribers during the year until the edition is out, unless otherwise ordered.

WILLIAM B. STODDARD. Hudson, Columbia, Co. N. Y. 1849.

NOTICE TO AGENTS, &C.

The present Post Office Law, will probably prevent our sending a Large Prospectus as heretofore, in consequence of the extra expense; but the matter contained in one, and all the necessary information concerning Clubs, etc, can be ascertained from the above. We respectfully solicit all our subscribers to endeavour to get up a Club in their vicinity for the next Volume.

EDITORS, who wish to exchange, are respectfully re quested to give the above a few insertions, or at least a notice and receive Subscriptions.

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VOLUME XXVI.

TALES

HUDSON, N. Y. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1849.

THE RUFFIAN BOY.
A Tale Founded on Fact.

BY MRS. AMELIA OPIE.
[Continued.J

wound her in her most vulnerable part-through the bosom of her husband or her children. Waldemar hesitated some time whether to make known the reason of his removal into Bohemia, or not; but at length he resolved to tell his sad and peculiar story. Every one loves to be an object of interest; and though we all admit that to be obETHELIND was therefore grateful and satisfied;jects of pity implies a species of inferiority, still, and recovering the usual devout and Christian who has not a strange sort of satisfaction in detone of her feelings, she joined with Waldemar in scribing the pains and dangers of sickness, and the considering the death of Madame Steinheim as a sufferings of the nerves of the heart? and who mercy; and prepared, after four days' residence does not feel the auditor endeared to them, who at the inn, to set off for Bohemia. has listened to such details with persevering attention, and patient sympathy?

The weather was fine, the road consequently better than usual; and even earlier than they expected, our travellers reached. Bohemia; nor did they meet with any alarm on the road except when ever a horse passed them at full speed; and then they always expected to behold the dreaded form and the bright and terrible eyes of Geraldi.

It was not the first time that Waldemar had visited Bohemia, and he was well acquainted with the country; consequently he was at no loss where to seck a residence; and finding that a sort of castle, with a mote and draw.bridge, (which he used to admire) was to be let for a certain term of years, he took it immediately.

Those who had known Waldemar when he visited that neighborhood before, were rather shocked at the change which they beheld in him; for con. stant anxiety lest his beloved wife should still be the victim of her relentless foe, had wholly altered his once bright and sunny countenance, and had imprinted on his manly brow the premature lines of age. Ethelind, too, lovely as she was, had a look of care and melancholy unnatural to her style of features; and her heavy eyelids and absent eye often showed not as Marmontel says, that "l'amour avoit passe par la,"—for her love had been a happy one; but that anxiety and sorrow had sojourn. ed with her, and left sad traces of their destructive

PAYABLE IN ADVANCE.
NUMBER 3.

minds of Waldemar and Ethelind. It appeared to strengthen the former, not to shrink from the necessity which seeined impending over hin of curtailing his expenses, dismissing part of his household, together with his son's tutor and the governess to his daughters, whom they had lately added to their establishment; and, united with those months of freedom from alarin, it had so renovated the weakened frame of Ethelind as to encourage her to undertake once more the sole instruction of her girls.

During this season of unexpected and blissful security, Waldenar received a letter from a town about fifty miles off, telling him that a man answering the description of Geraldi was then lying apparently on his death-bed at a small inn in that place, and advising him to come himself, or send one competent to decide whether the invalid in question was the culprit or not; and the letter was signed by the magistrate of the village.

But Waldemar was governed in the disclosure which he meditated, not only by this common though contradictory law of our nature; he thought that the more widely his wife's cruel persecutions and injuries were known, the more likely he should be to entrap the author of them; and that all Bohemia would make common cause with It was impossible for Waldemar to disregard this him, should this terrible being ever be seen within its intelligence, as it was of the utmost consequence confines. Nor was he mistaken in his expectation to him to ascertain the death of Geraldi, should of exciting by his narrative the deepest interest and the invalid prove to be him; and if he was not dythe tenderest compassion; for the most distinguishing, and the information was correct, it was of ed inhabitants of the neighborhood where his cas- equal conséquence to him to secure his person tle was situated, offered him every assistance in while living. their power; and persons having authority promised to keep a very careful watch on all strangers who sought ingress into the towns nearest them. Waldemar, however, was not aware of the evil springing out of this expected good, like the weed growing near the flower; for the knowledge of his painful situation induced many from kind, many from interested, and some from sinister motives, to send him real or supposed intelligence of Geraldi; and to entail on him thereby the expense not only of paying agents for going in pursuit of the villain according to the information given, but also to reward his often mistaken informants for their real or pretended good-will; an expense that in time became ruinous, and created an anxiety The children, however were florid with the un- for the future in a pecuniary point of view, which tamed vivacity of childhood, and bright with health was scarcely counterbalanced by the soothing conand hope; still, even they, at times, were sadden-sciousness that, though months had elapsed since ed by the restraints imposed on them; as they were not allowed to go out of their own domains, unless accompanied by Maurice, as well as another servant, and a large bull-dog, which had replaced poor Carlo; and even in their own grounds they were restricted to certain walks, where there were no trees to assist concealment; for Ethelind, who thought Geraldi's hatred was probably an increas. ing passion, was afraid that he might now wish to

visit.

they left their house, near Ghent, and had taken
up their abode in Bohemia, no proof that their steps
were still haunted by Geraldi (except the melan-
choly event at the inn on the road,) had during
those months agitated their minds, and disturbed
the quiet of their domestic enjoyments.

It was now in the month of June, and the genial
brightness of the weather seemed to have a cheer-
ing and revivifying effect on the health and the

His son's tutor had never seen Geraldi conse. quently he could not go; and he could not send Maurice with the approbation of his own heart, because he was far from young, was just then very unwell, and not able to undertake with safety or comfort a journey of fifty miles. Therefore though Ethelind gave an unwilling consent, Waldemar set off himself for the town in question. Before he went, however, he had a private conference with Maurice; who promised to sleep not only on the same floor with his mistress, but in a room that opened into the dressing-room belonging to her chamber; he also promised to see the draw-bridge was drawn up all day, as well as night. Then with a feeling of tolerable security, Waldemar threw himself into his chaise and departed.

But when he was twenty miles on his journey his security vanished, and he could hardly help returning to guard in person his perhaps endangered treasure; for he met a man on the road, who, though he put his horse into full speed as he passed and drew his hat over his face, had, in his opinion, the air and the eyes of Geraldi.

However, he recollected the power of nervous prepossession; and being determined to conquer his, he resolved to pursue his journey. He did not reach the place of his destination till the next day

unbarred the door, and reached the inner appart-
ment just as the now exhausted Ethelind, uttering
a faint cry for mercy, had nearly relinquished her
hold on the arm of the assassin.

at noon; and what words can paint his agony and
disappointment, when on inquiring for the person
who wrote to him, and the inn to which he was
directed, he found there was no such person and
no such inn! The wretched truth at once burst At that sight Maurice forgot his illness and for.
upon his mind-that he had been decoyed away got his age; and stealing behind Geraldi, and
from home by Geraldi, on purpose that during his scizing his hand with his still athletic arm, he
absence he might find an opportunity of wreaking wrenched the dagger from him, and grasping him
his vengeance on Ethelind. Immediately, there- by the collar of his vest, he threw him, (not on the
fore, he set off on his return home, as fast as four bed, as he hoped he should do, but) with great and
horses could bear him, in a state of mind wretch- stunning force against the opposite wall next to
ed and hopeless.
the window. Geraldi, being thus disarmed, and
The enforced and unusual absence of her hus- conscious of the great strength of his adversary,}
band was of itself a sufficient trial to the apprehen-sprung out of the window with the agility peculiar
sive Ethelind; but Waldemar was scarcely gone to him, and mounting his horse which was grazing
when she found that a new one awaited her. Her underneath, he swam it across the mote as he had
youngest child, a boy of about six years old, was done before, and having reached the opposite bank
seized with a feverish complaint; at midnight, in safety, was out of sight ere any one could hasten
Ethelind, who had taken her station for the whole in pursuit of him.
night at the bed-side of this beloved object, was
convinced that, if he was not better in an hour or
two, she must send to the next town for immedi.
ate assistance. Towards one o'clock in the morn-
ing, however, he fell asleep; but not till Ethelind
in consequence of his pathetic complaints of the
heat of the room, had unfastened one of the win.
dows, and thrown it up as high as it would go.
Ethelind watched some time in sleepless anxiety
beside the bed of her restless though slumbering
charge; but, worn with anxiety, and exhausted
by the heat of the weather, she at length threw
herself on the bed, and soon forgot or cares and
her dangers; but it was to wake them again only
too soon. For, suddenly starting up, at, as she
thought a noise in the room, she beheld Geraldi¦
hanging over her; while those bright and terrible
eyes gazed malignantly upon her, and his right
hand seemed feeling for a dagger in his bosom.

But Ethelind was neither conscious of her own escape, nor of the disappearance of Geraldi. She was alive only to the danger of her child, who lay in her arms, in all the affecting struggles of a violent convulsion.

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"Who told you so, papa?" exclaimed the three children at once. "Oh! yes, and poor little Ernest—"

"What of Ernest ?-and where is he?" replied the now alarmed Waldemar.

An immediate explanation ensued; and Walde. mar also learnt why, no one was near to receive him. Ethefind, when she awoke and remembered the transactions of the proceeding night, was convinced that the letter to Waldemar was a trick to lure him from home; and knowing how alarmed he would consequently be, on finding out the trick and in what an anxious state of mind he would travel back-she despatched the only groom they Maurice, meanwhile, was carefully fastening now had to meet Waldemar, twenty or thirty miles down the window again, lest Geraldi should re-arm if possible, from home, and let him know of Gehimself again, and return; and then he endeav-raldi's visit and her safety; but the postilions had oured to assist the wretched mother to restore the child.

Nor were their efforts unsuccessful. The poor boy's struggles gradually subsided; and at length opening his eyes and looking wildly around, he asked in an inaudible voice," where the bad man was?" Then seeing no one but Maurice and his mother, he sobbed out-" Ernest and mamma are safe now ;" and he fell back exhausted in a calm sleep on the bosom of Ethelind; who, lying down with him in her arms, and feeling safe under the "Thou art awake at last!" said Geraldi, in a guardianship of Maurice, and the protection of deep and subdued tone, as if fearful of being over- that unseen guardian whose mercy she felt and heard; "but be silent, or I will instantly kill thy whose goodness she acknowledged, she, too, yieldchild." And Ethelind, conscious that he was like.ed to the approaches of sleep. And Maurice, who ly to keep his word, did nothing but lift her clasped hands to heaven in silent supplication, and look on him with an expression calculated to move the most obdurate heart.

But he had raised the murderous dagger against her life, when the little Ernest awoke; and seeing a strange man in the room, and having his head previously filled with the idea of Geraldi, he uttered with a piercing shriek, the name of the wicked Geraldi, and begged him most piteously not to kill his mamma.

Instantly Geraldi, maddened and alarmed at the wild vociferations of the child, and the name of the wicked Geraldi, flew to the other side of the bed, and seizing the poor boy by the hair with his left hand, lifted up his dagger to strike him with the right.

But Ethelind, with all her power, seized and hung on that right arm; and nerved by her maternal affection, the ruffian struggled in her grasp for a moment in vain. But that moment was sufficient. Maurice, ill as he was, had resolved to watch all night, as the dogs had barked, and he thought he had heard a strange splashing in the river. He therefore heard the sercams of the child and his repetition of the words, "wicked Geraldi," and concluding that, whether Geraldi was really there, or that the child was delirious, his presence would be cheering to the anxious mother, he softly

watched over them till it was bright day-light, had
the happiness of seeing both the mother and the
son locked in a refreshing slumber.

come by a shorter road than the usual one, and the groom had therefore missed them.

Maurice, meanwhile, had gone to bed in the day to make amends for the exertions of the night; and just as Waldemar arrived, Ethelind was put. ting Ernest in a warm bath; while the governess, the nurse-maid, and the other children assisted at the ceremony, and the tutor was taking his daily walk. But now all these unfortunate coincidences and every thing was forgotten, in the joy of the reunion under circumstances of such signal deliverance. And Ethelind, almost convinced that she bore about "a charmed life," chided Waldemar for the intention he expressed of guarding every window on the outside with that expensive defence a chevaux.de-frise of iron.

This certainly was unnecessary, if the windows were constantly closed. But as Ethelind might wish to open a window in a hot night, if he was ever absent again, Waldemar thought it would be money well laid out; and the order was given.

Waldemar in the meanwhile, who had travelled all night, was hastening home in anxious suspense almost too powerful for his reason; and his powers of utterance were quite suspended, when he Waldemar had now been home some weeks; rang at the gates of the park, and no servant came and the feeling-the too often baseless feeling of to open them. Nor, when he stopped at the gate security was rapidly returning, when a most unexof his house, did he behold any signs of anxious ex-pected piece of intelligence filled their hearts with pectation or cager welcome, and his heart died within him-for he knew that he had been led from home by a false pretence; and he now more than suspected that he had met Geraldi on the road! "It looks—it is," said he, “no doubt the abode of death and desolation--and the bloody deed is accomplished!"

At this moment one of the post-boys dismounted and opened the carriage door; and Waldemar, fancying himself firm when he was only desperate, staggered into the hall of entrance; when sudden. ly at an opposite door appeared Ethelind and three of his children, flying on the wings of affectionate transport to his arins. The contrast was too much for human nature to support.

Waldemar struggled against the tide of emotions which overwhelmed him—but it could not be. His head turned, his eyes closed, and he was conscious of nothing more till he found himself lying

gladness, and lifted them up to heaven in pious thankfulness.

The newspapers announced that, Geraldi Duval whom the officers of justice had been in pursuit of so long, was at last discovered and taken, together with several others belonging to a company of banditti whom he had joined, and that he was then in prison at Altenburg; where, in a few months, he and his accomplices would be tried, not only for robbery, but murder.

The first perusal of this paragraph filled the minds of this persecuted family with the liveliest joy. But Waldemar and Etheliud, made wary by experience, soon found their hopes faded and their fear revive; and before they again opened their hearts to rejoicing, they resolved to send over to Altenburg, to see whether Geraldi was really confined there. And Maurice was now able to under. take the journey.

He went and returned with the joyful intelli. gence, that he had seen Geraldi chained and in prison; and had received from him many hearty curses, uttered with the look of a fiend.

in so hot a day as this you want a fire to warm
you?"

At the sound of her voice the old woman started and turned round, but instantly resumed her posO the joy of that moment to his long persecutedture without answering; and the girl observed that though patient and resigned victim! A load was she was too deaf to understand what any one said taken off her heart, which unconsciously to her, unless the words were spoken in her ear. The was wearing her frame away. governess, therefore, stooped down, and spoke the question in her ear. The old woman then heard; and swinging backwards and forwards, as if in great pain, said, "No, I am not feverish, only in great suffering-something bad inside, I fear."-And the compassionate governess promised that

Still, a feeling of insecurity would return when she remembered that Geraldi was connected with banditti, who would, very likely, make incredible efforts to set their comrades free. Nor could she sometimes rest till Maurice had again visited Al- { tenburgh, and again seen Geraldi.

some sort of relief should be sent her. Then as-
suring her she should see or hear from her again,
she went in search of Ethelind, who, moved to pity
by the account, exaggerated as those of childhood
usually are, which her children gave of the poor
old woman's sufferings, age, and apparent poverty,
sent her cordials and medicine, promising to come
and see her herself, if she was not better the next

Three times had he gone on this not unpleasant errand-for his heart (like his lady's) often misgave him on this subject-when the fourteenth anniversary of the day of Waldemar's marriage with Ethelind drew near, and he was resolved to celebrate it by a sort of village festival. But before he dared throw open his gates to every one in the village, and bid all his anxious fears farewell,day. he sent Maurice over to Altenburg again, to ascertain the continuance of Geraldi's captivity; and, if he could, the probable security of the prison locks and walls.

But the next day was the day of the festival, and even Ethelind forgot her promise in preparations for her guests.

The sun shone brightly on the anniversary of a marriage which had been the cause of happiness, pure and uninterrupted, except by a maliguant spir. it, clothed in earthly form; and the whole park

He found Geraldi even more closely ironed than before, as it was discovered that he had meditated an escape; and Maurice was therefore more at case concerning the probable duration of his im-looked bright and gay with booths and flags, and prisonment than he had hitherto been ; and he returned with gladness in his own heart to gladden the hearts of others.

Waldemar were allowed thus to amuse the friends who were dear to them, and to reward the industry of the peasants by a day of happy but not unproductive idleness; for Waldeniar, being resolved not to injure those whom he amused, meant to bestow on each family what they would have earned dur. ing the day, though during that day they lived at his expense.

But why did Ethelind start, and a cloud come across her brow, as she looked over the merry throng? Peeping through the iron gate at the bottom of the park, she saw the shoeless girl of the cottage looking no doubt with envy, at all that she beheld. Ethelind instantly, with a feeling of selfreproach, remembered that though she had heard the old woman was worse, she had not fulfilled her promise of visiting her; and now that her power of attending the sick in person was restored to her, it was so very wrong, she thought, not to have profited by it.

No sooner had the unusual feeling of self-reproach on such subjects arisen in the mind of Ethelind, than it was necessary to remove the intruder, by fulfilling the neglected duty; and withdrawing unperceived from the throng after the waltz was over, she threw a veil over her head, and, accompanied by the governess, stole out of the gate, bade the girl lead the way and followed to the cottage.

Ever as much averse to ostentation as she was prone to real charity, Ethelind took no relief with streamers on the hats of the peasants, and flowers her except money, as that she could carry unseen in the hair of their wives and daughters-while in her pocket. But recollecting that the poor music was heard from near and distant groups; woman's disorder was said to be violent pain, she "Then we need hesitate no longer," said the and the cheerfulness and hilarity which were vis-sent the governess back for an opiate-and entered happy Waldemar: "Now shall my gates be asible on every face, gratified the benevolent hearts the cottage alone. open to my poor and rich neighbors as my heart of the lord and lady of the castle. as long been!" And immediately preparations for the festival were begun.

"This reminds us of former days dearest Ethelind," said Waldemar; "days when no Geraldi had as yet crossed our path and poisoned our enjoyments."

The errand was one of charity, and her look and the tone of her voice were those almost of a ministering angel; and she had just closed the door after her, when her children, who had become much interested in the old woman, re-opened it, and begged to be allowed to stay on the threshold. Etheliod only nodding assent, stepped forward to the bedside of the old woman, whose face was shaded by something resembling a hood.

The children, accompanied by their governess and the tutor, had been permitted, ever since the apprehension of Geraldi, to walk out of the grounds "May these happy days continue!" cried in to the adjacent country; and Ethelind had Ethelind, sighing, and hastening to meet some allowed them to be themselves the distributors of friends just arriving from Prague. Her guests the bread, or the money, or the linen, or the med-continued now to arrive so fast, that Ethelind was icine, which she sent to the poor cottagers around forced to resign every thought but of their accomher; for she never forgot others, even in trifles,modation; and she passed rapidly with her light however oppressed she was herself; and but for and graceful step along the busy and crowded her own fears, and her husband's prohibition, she would have been known to these objects of her As soon as an inspiring waltz was played, the bounty in person; but the habitual fear that Geral-higher order of Ethelind's guest chose their part-when looking towards her, she saw her raise her

di might be on the watch for her, had made her quietly submit to keep entirely within her own precincts.

The day before that fixed upon for the festival, the governess and the little Waldemar had seen a ragged girl begging near the gates, and they gave her a piece of money, because she assured them she begged for her poor grandmother, who was dangerously ill in that cottage, (pointing to the one nearest to her.)

scene.

The tutor now joined the group at the door, returning from his accustomed walk; and Ethelind, who kindly thought that the children and he made too much noise at the door for the invalid, was just going to beg him to lead them further off;

head suddenly and cast an angry glance towards the tutor, who now entered the cottage.

Ethelind's look immediately became riveted on those eyes so expressive of vengeful inalignity; and swift as a flash of lightning the truth burst upon her mind. There was no time for deliberation. She rose suddenly from the side of the bed, along which she had thrown herself in order to

ners and formed their own circles, while the lower orders, at a respectful distance, did the same; and Ethelind, laughing at her own unfashionable taste, selected her husband for her partner, saying "that now she never waltzed with any one but Waldemar or her children;" while the gratified husband, enfolding with fond pride her still lovely person, bore her along the animating circle. When Ethelind paused to recover breath, she speak in the ear of the deaf invalid, and approachcast a gratified eye over the scene before her. Fes-ing the tutor, told him that she wished to converse toons of pinks and roses had now been hung on with him apart; but when she reached the threshdifferent groups of trees, wherever the ground was old she called on her children to follow her, nor level; and some of the dancers flew along the cir- stopped till she found herself in the arms of Walcling waltz, their round marked out by bands of demar, who, directed by the governess, was come fragrant flowers; while the lofty trees over their in search of her. Ethelind did not, could not utter heads screened the dancers from the heat of a a word; but her pale check and altered countenoon-day sun, and waved in deeper verdure from nance spoke volumes to the apprehensive husthe gay contrasts beneath them. Ethelind's full band. heart spoke in her glistening eye as she gazed on this cheerful scene of innocent enjoyment; and she "Are you feverish!” said the governess, “that { felt thankful for the consciousness that she and

"I will go in and see your grandmother, then," said the governess; "and if she is very ill, the kind lady who lives yonder will send her some thing to do her good."

The young girl thanked her warmly for her kind offer, and ran on before to announce the visit.

The governess followed, and saw an old woman sitting almost double over a few pieces of wood which she had just lighted, and seeming too ill to take any notice of her visiter.

At length, however, she recovered her utterance; and declared that in the feigned old woman-whom she went to succour and if possible to save, she

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