reward if he fulfilled his promise in a certain time. The Frenchman said, that ten years would be wanted to instruct such a very large animal, if he was to teach it to speak the Turkish quite perfectly; but he would be content to suffer the most cruel death at the expiration of that time, if he should not fulfill what he had undertaken. After they had agreed to this, he and a young elephant were confined in a tower, and supplied with abundance of provisions. After a little time, he was visited by some of his countrymen, who testified their astonishment at his mad promise. "You bring destruction on yourself by it," said one of them," Don't fear, gentlemen," said the Prisoner; "ten years is a great period of human life, I assure you, that before these are expired, one of us, either the Emperor, the elephant, or I, shall be dead."

NON SEQUITUR.

Ir is a grammatical Adam, being a relative without an ante-cedent :--something that is apropos to nothing, and comes after without following from. Of this figure there are various sorts; but the most common form is putting the cart before the horse, or taking the effect for the cause. The industrious, prudent, and enlightened people of this country have thriven and grown great and rich, not always in consequence of good, but in spite of bad government. Their native shrewdness and energy have enabled them to triumph over impediments, political, fiscal, and commercial, which would have completely crushed a less active and enterprising nation. When, therefore, they are desired to reverence the mis-governed and the unreformed institutions, to which alone they are told to consider themselves indebted for all the advantages they enjoy, one cannot help recalling the non sequitur of the Carmelite Friar, who instanced as a striking proof of the superintendence and goodness of Providence, that it almost invariably made a river run completely through the middle of every large city. Somewhat akin to this instance of naivete was the reply of the Birmingham boy, who

being asked whether some shillings, which he tendered at a shop, were good, answered with great simplicity, “Ay, that they be, for I seed father make 'em all this morning."

FICTION.

AMONG other objections to these fascinating productions, it has been urged that they create a habit of feeling pity or indignation, without affording us an opportunity to relieve distress, or resist oppression, and by thus awakening our sympathies to imaginary claims, dispose them to slumber when called upon by real ones. The heart, it is argued, may be softened till it is hardened, as there are metals which acquire a greater induration the oftener they are melted. This ingenious the. ory is more plausible than true. All benevolent sympathies will be corroborated by exercise, even when not called forth by any real object, as the archer will strengthen his arm by the practice of shooting into the air, and the soldier by engaging in sham fights learns how to conduct himself in real ones. To suppose that figments weaken our susceptibility to faets, is to imagine that dreams will unfit us for waking realities, and that smoke is more tangible than solids. If the maintainer of this theory will request some kind friend to throw

at his head the most pathetic volume ever written,
it may safely be predicted that the shadow, if it
misses him, will make a less sensible impression
upon his feelings, than the substance, if it hits him.

-

ONE GOOD POINT.

So various are the estimates formed of us by our fellow creatures, that there never, perhaps, existed an individual, however unpraiseworthy, who was not acknowledged to have one good point in his character, though it by no means follows, that this admission is always to be taken as a compliment. A gentleman, travelling on a Sunday, was obliged to stop, in order to replace one of his horse's shoes. The farrier was at church; but a villager suggested, that if he went on to Jem Harrison's forge, he would probably be found at home. This proved to be true, when the rustic who had led the horse to the spot exclaimed-" Well, I must say that for Jem-for it is the only good point about him-he do never go to church!"

A READY REPLY

"Yes," rc

consolingly, "I'm afraid you'll never feel any better; you look the very picture of what you feel."

The Rural Repository.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 5, 1850.

GODEY'S LADY'S BOOK.

THE January No. of the Lady's Book came too late for us to acknowledged its reception-to praise the beauty of its engravings and the interest of its reading matter in our last paper.

THE ROGER'S FAMILY.

THE death of Mr. David Rogers and his four Sons is truly a melancholy affair. They left this City a year ago for California. One of the sons died before they arrived there, and two more followed soon after; then the father died, and left the one remaining son, and he too has gone to join his parent and brothers, as will be seen by the following:

MELANCHOLY DISPENSATION. A friend informs us that the four of the Rogers family, who left New-York for Chagres in the Steamer Crescent City, in December last, have since died.-NATHAN G. ROGERS died of fever in Panama, about the 1st of February; the father, DAVID ROGERS, and DAVID ROGERS, Jr. died a few weeks since on the Yuba river; and LEANDER breathed his last in this city on Tuesday, 30th of October.-Sacramento City (Cal.) Times.

"CARNIVOROUS animals," said a collegian to the
Rev. S. S," are always provided with claws
and talons to seize their prey; hoofed animals are
invariably graminivorous. Is it, therefore, consis.
tent with the analogies of nature to describe the
devil when he goes about sceking whom he may
devour, as having a cloven foot?"
plied the divine; " for we are assured, on scrip- sep,
tural authority, that all flesh is grass." Few bet-brandy, and it will never freeze.
ter replies are upon record than that of young De
Chateauneuf, to whom a bishop once said, "If
you will tell me where God is, I will give you an
orange?" "If you will tell me where He is not, I
will give you two," was the child's answer.

VALUABLE RECIPES.

LEMONADE POWDERS.-Pound and mix together half a pound of sugar, one ounce of carbonate of soda, and three or four drops of the oil of lemon; divide the mixture into sixteen portions, and dissolve one in a glass of water.

GINGER BEER POWDERS-Take away the oil of lemon from the former receipt, and substitute a few grains of finely powdered ginger, or else a few drops of the essence of ginPREVENT INK FROM FREEZING.-Instead of water use

FILIAL AFFECTION.

An implanted instinct, exalted by a feeling of
gratitude and a sense of duty. The Roman daugh-
ter who nourished her imprisoned father, when con-
demned to be starved to death, from her own breast
has generally been abduced as the noblest recorded
instance of filial affection; but the palm may al-
most be contested by an Irish son, if we may re-
ceive without suspicion the evidence of a fond and
doting father-" Ah now, my darlint!" exclaimed
the latter, when his boy threatened to enlist in the
that dotes upon ye? You, the best and the most
-"would you be laving your poor ould father
army-"
dutiful of all my children, and the only one that
never struck me when I was down!"

NOVEMBER.

It is a period at which most Englishmen take
leave of the sun for nine months, and not a few of

them for ever. A demure Scottish lady having
been introduced to the Persian ambassador when
in London, exclaimed with an incredulous air," Is
it possible that ye are such idolators in Persia as to
worship the sun?" "Yes, madam." was the reply,
"and so you would in England, if you ever saw
him."

"WHAT'S the matter, my dear?" said a wife to
her husband, who had sat for half an honr with his
face buried in his hands, and apparently in great
tribulation. "Oh, I dont know," said he, "I have
felt like a fool all day."
"Well," returned his wife;

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

D. C. Schuyler's Lake, N. Y. $1,00; M. H. G. Elbridge, $1.00; P. M. Enst Virgil, N. Y. $4,50; E. L. B. Gloversville, N. Y. $5.00; Miss D C. B. Utica, N. Y. $1.00; P. M. Plymouth, N. Y. $4.00; P. M. Comstock Landing, N. Y. $4,00; S. H. Chatham, Ms. $1,00; S W. P. Reeds Corners, N. Y.

$5.50; W M. B. Glen Wild, N. Y. $2.00; Mrs. T. P. Pittsfield. Ms. $1,00; P. M. Clayton, N. Y. $5.00; S. P. M. Clyde, N. Y. $1.00. P. M. Gloversville, N. Y. $1,00; Mrs. D. P.

Lowville, N. Y. $1,00.

MARRIAGES.

In this city, on the 20th inst. at Christ Church, by the Rev. Mr. Tuttle, Mr. Walter Aitkin of New-York, to Miss Margafet Eliza, daughter of Richard Atwill.

By the Rev. Geo. Coles, Mr. William Frederick Ball to Miss Mary Thompson, all of this city.

On the 18th ult, by the Rev. II. E. Niles, Mr. John A. Mesick to Miss Ruth C. Beebe, daughter of Calvin Beebe, of Chatham.

At Chatham 4 Corners, on the 26th ult. by the Rev. E. S. Porter, Samuel W. Sutherland to Mary, daughter of David W. Rider, Esq.

By the Rev. Ira C. Boice, at the Parsonage, on the 19th ult. Mr Joseph Graff, of Greenport, to Miss Christina Giesler, of Claverack.

On the 20th ult. by the Rev. Ira C. Boice. Mr. John Carragan, to Miss Caroline Bogardus, both of Ghent.

At Stuyvesant, on the 19th ult. by the Rev. Mr. Nevins, Mr. David A. Griffen, of Yorktown, to Miss Susan O. Rider, of Stuyvesant.

DEATHS.

In this city, on the 23d ult. Mrs. Elizabeth Rossman, wife of the late Jacob I. Rossman of Taghkanic, aged 106 yearsShe lived to see her 5th generaThis is indeed a great age. tion, and it is very remarkable that she retained all her faculties, and was perfectly sensible until the last moment of her

life; she enjoyed very good health generally. She would arrange her chamber and make her bed daily, and attend to her toilet, with the most scrupulous neatness.

In this city, on the 28th ult. Mrs. Mary Dean, after a few days suffering.

At Detroit, on the 7th ult. John H. Barton, aged 30 years, son of Capt. Jas. Barton, formerly of Hudson.

At Philadelphia, on the 30th ult. Mr. Elisha C. Huntington, formerly of this city, aged 30 years.

At New-York, on the 15th ult. Rev. John Peck, of Cazenovia. Madison Co. father of Darius Peck, Esq. of this city, in the 69th year of his age.

At Copake, on the 13th ult. Mr. Richard Van Deusen, aged

59 years.

J. C.

ONE DOLLAR PER ANNUM.

VOLUME XXVI.

Semi-monthly Journal, Embellished with Engravings,

W. B. STODDARD, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR.
HUDSON, N. Y. SATURDAY, JANUARY 19, 1850.

TALES.

"BEAR AND FORBEAR."

FROM MRS. S. C. HALL'S TALES OF WOMAN'S TRIALS. [Concluded.]

Part the Third.

To Madeline's inquiries, the attendant who an. swered said that Monsieur was out, but "Madame" was at breakfast. Mrs. Mansfield paused, and the repeated question of "Who shall I say wishes to see her?" fell unheard upon her car. She walked in. It was a strange, I had almost written an unnatural, meeting-vice and virtue face to face-and yet such scenes occur almost daily in this great world, without many taking note of them. The unhappy woman, whom Madeline found reading one of the frivolous journals of the day, rose to receive her with an case and grace of manner which, at any other time, or from any other persen, would have at once prepossessed her in her favor. She requested her to sit, but Mrs. Mansfield was for a few moments incapable of motion. She stood with her eyes fixed upon the frail and delicate

POOR Madeline! she had overrated her strength and powers of endurance; the nearer she drew to Paris the more nervous she became-the less fitted for the task she had set herself. At one time she would order the postillions to double their speed, and the next direct them to go slower, for that she was distracted by the rapidity of the movement. More than once she felt she had done foolishly in bringing her child with her. She entertained no idea of using him, as in a drama, to draw her hus-looking Italian songstress, and at last, in as firm band back. She knew this to be equally mean as useless, and that nothing but time could restore her husband to himself and her.

As the carriage whirled through the streets of Paris, Madeline's heart heat so quickly, that she could hardly breathe: even the servants seemed too absorbed to note the strangeness of the motley city. Arthur had been sometime asleep, and when the postillions drew up at the hotel, Mrs. Mansfield felt completely paralysed; she could not move. Her blond, stagnant for a moment, rushed suddenly to her head, which swam and recled; and although her maid assured the servants that her mistress was only suffering from fatigue, she feared she was actually dying.

1

a voice as she could command, said, "My name is Mansfield." A tremor, sudden and violent, agitated the frame of the stranger; she attempted to ring the bell, but her arm fell powerless at her side; her lips moved, but no sound escaped them; and at length; after various ineffectual struggles, she fainted. Mrs. Mansfield moved to where she had fallen upon the couch, from which she had risen on her entrance. She looked at her pale face, and, upturned as it then was to the light, she saw how much older she was than she had imagined, and what strong lines, passion and-it might be her imagination, but she thonght-sorrow had caten into her exquisite and delicate features. poured over her brow some eau de Cologne from The next day, when bodily exertion had some- a flacon that stood on the table, and pushed a pillow what abated, Madeline collected her thoughts, and beneath her head. As she gazed on one who had endeavoured to arrange the best, because the most done so much to destroy her peace, she felt suffoeffective mode of appealing to her husband. She cated; acute pains darted through her frame, and ascertained that he was still in Paris. The lawyer her head and temples throbbed violently. She was was expected to arrive that evening, or the next there, alone and powerless-her for whom she had morning. Should she suffer him to see Mansfield been deserted. All that Madeline had ever heard first, or should she go herself to her husband? or read of demons taking possession of the human There would have been no cause for deliberation, form crowded her confused mind. How beautifully if she was certain of seeing only him. She would hideous the woman became the longer she gazed! go at once; but could she bear to meet another? She bent over her to examine more keenly the Nothing will happen me, good Lewis," she said features she hoped never again to see, and her eyes in reply to his respectful protest," nothing, be- wandered to an ornament that, suspended from a lieve me. Let the man drive on." The servant plack velvet ribbon, glittered on her bosom-it bowed; and the uneasy machine, lined with crim. was her husband's miniature! If a serpent had son-velvet-a specimen of fiuery and discomfort-stung her, she could not have writhed under a proceeded to rattle over the ill-paved streets." Open the door, Lewis," she said; I will myself inquire." May God protect her!" uttered the old servant; how pale and resolute she looks, and yet how gentle!"

PAYABLE IN ADVANCE.

NUMBER 8.

a dagger in the wild anguish of that fearful moment. As if the fiend had fully prepared for that terrible passage of her fevered life, almost beneath her hand, close to where the insensible woman lay, beside the very pillow, was a glittering stiletto, one of those with jewelled handics which are used upon the stage; but the momentary phrenzy passed away as rapidly almost as it came. Bewildered by its unknown violence, dreading herself, chilled in every pore, as if the burning fever of the pist emotion had drawn vitality even from her shivering heart, she staggered to the window, and throwing up the cumbrous frame, gasped in the reviving air, as if she had never breathed before.

When she recoverd herself, she saw the stranger looking around with a distrait air, rising slowly from the couch and passing her hand repeatedly across her brow, as if she was recalling the events of the minutes p:st. When she perceived Mad. cline, she clasped hor hands and screamed. Mrs. Mansfield, perfectly restored, said, Make no noise; you shall hear me ; you owe me more than a few minutes silence."

"You will not hurt me," exclaimed the trembling foreigner-" you will not hurt me ?"

May God forbid that I should hurt you? I would rather save you from yourself," was the reply. When Madeline recommenced, her voice was weak and feeble, but it gained strength as she continued. The Italian listened at first with compressed lips, a haughty and determined gathSheering of her brows, and her small hands so tightly elasped together, that the jewels by which her fingers were encircled pressed into the flesh, while her eyes were fixed on the ground. At first, too, Madeline's words came slowly from her lips. She drew a picture of a devoted wife and mother, one who loved as passionately, as firmly, and more holily than the person she addressed could have done-descrted by her husband and the father of her child-for whom? She paused: there was no reply. As she continued, she gained strength and courage. She used no offensive word. She remembered that the Italian was not tutored as she had been; that she was not only born of other blood, but educated-if such tutelage could be called education-in a different world; not thinking her thoughts, hardly understanding her language. Her momentary madness overcome, she was quite her noble self, and that self was full of the charity "which suffereth long and is kind." She spoke of the past-of her deep and devoted love to her husband, and of his to her; of the presenther utter desolation of heart and spint, forsaken by

more bitter pang. Strange it was that she, know-
ing all she did, should in a moment become so
changed. Strange that a disposition to revenge
should rush through her heart and brain, nerving
her arm, so that she could have clutched and used

him to whose love and protection she had a right given her by the Almighty; of her child-of the effect his father's conduct must have on his afterlife; how, despite her exertions to keep him in ignorance of his parent's abandonment of her and himself, he must know it hereafter, and grow np with the consciousness of his father's sin; nay, that on her would devolve the almost impossible task of dividing the sin and the sinner-teaching him to hate the one, and cleave to the other. She then passed, by means of a few rapid but heartfelt words, to the hereafter to which they must all come-the hereafter of thought and age-leading to the dread hereafter of the grave. Before this, she saw that, however passionate and wilful, however wayward and devoid of woman's most essential virtue, the frail creature she addressed might be, feeling waa at work within her. Her expressive features changed, her brows relaxed, large tears trembled on her eye-lashes, and her fingers move convulsively. Madeline said, that whatever her feelings might be, whatever she felt towards her she did not come armed with a wife's authority to reproach, to wound, to insult her; she came as one woman to another, to show her the abyss of guilt into which she had herself plunged, and the misery to which she had devoted others.

miniature. "I have seen her," she said?" I
have exposed to her, her own sin, and she has
blessed me for it ;" and this was the only allusion
she made, during that important interview, to
his crime. On the contrary, she endeavored to
draw his attention to the mere business portion of

to a door which Mrs. Mansfield had not before angel wings above the wreck which, like the perceived. At the same moment she picked up life-boat, she was just in time to save. There are the miniature, placed it in Madeline's hand, and passages in human nature so difficult to decipher closing her fingers upon it, pressed them to her lips. that the closest observer cannot account for the "He is coming," she said in a hoarse voice; "he workings of the various feelings and their effects, was not out-not up; that leads to his dressing- broken up, as they are, by thoughts, and motives, room." She flew across the chamber to a door at and intentions. Madeline could not understand the other end, then returning and bending towards how it was that her husband left the hotel without where Mrs. Mansfield sat, overwhelmed by the seeming to think or care for the creature whose expectation of seeing her husband, she muttered image haunted her, even while she looked upon something which Madeline did not understand, him. The sight of his child subdued him altogether": and, sobbing more bitterly than ever, quitted the and as the little fellow clung round his neck, its apartment. Mansfield entered shortly after. Mans- father burst into tears so rapid and violent, that his field!-but how worn, how broken down he looked! strong fame seemed hardly able to endure the --not as one from whom health fades gradually, shock. Anxiously did Madeline look for the not as one whom over-labor, or over-anxiety, works lawyer's arrival with the necessary papers; every down from the healthful bright-eyed man to the carriage that drove into the court-yard drew her to bent and hallowed shadow of humanity, struggling the window. She knew that if he came then, with the toils and struggles of life, but struggling Mansfield would do everything she required; but with an honest purpose and a clear conscience.(oh, the misery of having to do with the unstable !) Such a one may be bent and bowed to the earth, she could not trust him from hour to hour. She but he never can have the torn, and soiled, and judged of the present by the past. It was nearly haggard look that effaces God's image in the night and no lawyer had arrived. Subdued as debauchee, or even in him in whom weakness her husband was by the emotions of the day, he produces the effects of vice. They looked at each became suddenly and alarmingly excited, talked other in silence. Mansfield would have returned wildly and incoherently of his past experiences, whence he came, if he had the power. While and of what his future should be, and wanted Mad. Madeline perceived that, prompted by a sudden she, first and most enduring in all good deeds, eline to go with him to the opera. This fancy impulse, she endeavored to unclasp the velvet from advanced to meet him. She could not speak. seemed to have taken possession of his mind altoher throat; but her agitation prevented her effect-She extended her hands towards him-he saw the gether. His poor wife would as soon almost have ing her purpose. She tore the band apart, flung gone to her grave; but he insisted, and she prethe miniature on the ground, then springing up, her pared to dress. What a mockery it was, after foot was raised to crush it into atoms. Madeline what she had suffered during the last twelve hours! held her back. No, no," she said, "that shall He faulted the simple arrangement of her hair. never be while I am present." "Flowers," he said, " must be mingled there; she could not go with her hair unadorned; if she had not brought them with her, she must send out and not attend; he sank into a paroxysm of the buy them. No flowers like the French flowers :" deepest despair-reproached himself, reproached and to delay the time, she did as he desired. But her-said he could have endured anything rather before they were placed in her hair to his satisfacthan the love she bore him-that it was a curse, tion, the excitement deepened into disease. He a very poison. She heard all this; she heard it complained suddenly of the most racking pain in all, crushing her love closer into her heart-assum- his head and temples; every sound distracted him, ing a coolness of counsel, so as to assure his mind, and he could endure no ray of light; then, in the in its present mood, that it was business-the midst of his fevered description of some favourite advantage both would derive in the end, the song, he paused, and in a voice of child-like confiadvantage their child would derive-that brought dence, whispered, "Let me lay my head upon her there—not denying her affection, but never for your bosom, Madeline; there was its first peaceful a moment dwelling on it. Mansfield caught at repose, and there will be its last;" but there was the mention of the child, and inquired if he were in no repose for a head tortured with distracting fever Paris. He became at once anxious to see him; of the brain. About an hour afterwards, the lawhe would have him there: but no; he would go to yer arrived, to find the unhappy man in the wildest him. It must be evident to all, that mere feelings, ravings. If ever Madeline had been tempted to and affections, however pure and kind they might question the will of Providence, it was then. be, could never have guided Madeline through the fore the morning dawned, her husband had ceased perils of this momentous day. Her husband's eyes, to recognise her; and in his wanderings, the name unnaturally wandering, now fierce with sudden of another was frequently mingled with her own brightness, now dim, and red, and in-looking, The physicians said that weeks must pass before the shivering despair which made him firm in the the patient had a chance of being able to attend to belief that nothing could save him, the unmanly business of any kind, if and they shook their dread of investigating the debtor and creditor col-heads; his frame was debilitated, his constitution umns of his accounts; all these called for her strength and made her, while she trembled for his reason, exert her own. The vacillations of the man of fashion, from whom the gilding is all worn off-the wit, whose arrows are no longer tipped with brilliants-the man, in fact, once so rich in all but moral strength, now poor in all things, was as tenderly beloved by his devoted wife as on the day she placed their first-born in his arms; the same rich natural unsullied love hovered with

46 There!" exclaimed the passionate woman; you do not hate him this moment as I do her mission; but this was impossible. He could could not curse him as I could."

"Sce," replied Madeline," the different character of our affections. You, whom he has so little wronged, would curse him; I, his forsaken wife, the mother of his child, pray for and bless him every hour I live."

46

Oh, why!" sobbed the Italian-" why did no one tell me this before. I knew he had a wife, but did not think she was liks you ;" and flinging herself on her knees beside Madeline, and hiding her face in her dress, she became almost convulsed with weeping. It would have needed a sterner heart than Mrs. Mansfield's to have witnessed such sudden agony unmoved. There was none of the hardness of hopeless sin about the frail creature who clung to her-more as a child clings to a mother, than as one woman supplicates another. { "Let me weep," she said; "such tears do me good. I never shed such tears before. I thought if you came you would kill me; but you forgive me. I will sin no more. If you forgive me, I will sin no more." This, and much of the same kind, was said in the musical tones of her native tongue; and Madeline's emotions, strange as it may seem to say so, might well be envied. Here was a glorious Christian triumph. She had wrestled with and overcome herself; she had forborne not only volence, but reproach; and if her missiou was even still to be accomplished, she had awoke in an erring woman a sense of wrong, a resolve of right—sentiments and feelings which, if properly moved, would lead many a sister from sin to salvation, even at the eleventh hour. Suddenly the Italian put her finger to her lip, and pointed

Be

anything but strong; they hoped, but they also feared; they had never seen the disease under a worse form. It was useless for the man of business to wait; when needed he would return. One thing it is necessary for the honor of human nature to record; when he arrived in London, aud stated to the various persons whom the subject concerned, the circumstances under which he had left Mr. and Mrs. Mansfield, they, without one single exception, expressed their determination to wait until

good? You are not cold, but calm. Can you
forgive the warm blood of the South? You, who
know it not-you have that charity in the heart for
a sinner-you, who have walked with your God so
long?" With such murmured sentences she bent
lowly before Madeline, who, deeply affected, drew
her into another room.

ering his face with his hands. This little scene was frequently repeated. She could not go near him without his recalling what she was, and blaming himself; while she assured him that now, as he was recovering, she was quite happy, and felt her happiness must increase. But time passed, and was passing, and their affairs must be speedily "I do forgive you," she said; "and to prove it, arranged. The agitation might cause a relapse, a if I can, now or hereafter, by taking from the return of inflammation of the brain, and either dessmall share of the comforts of life which I am troy life or deprive her husband of reason. Still, likely to enjoy, I will bestow on you what will he was much better, and she prepared him for his save you from the want that is so often the parent lawyer's presence. He came. But before Mansof sin. God knows how gladly I will do it. I field knew of his being in the hotel, he visited would be your friend, and save you. Do not be- Uncle Oliver, who was laid up with a fit of the lieve that, as a woman, having sinned, you cannot gout. While Madeline's husband slumbered in be saved. There are some, even of your own land the easy chair, to which he had been removed, she who would urge this as a reason for your continu- went to her uncle's room, and found the old gening in sin; but I tell you it is not so; and let this tleman in a great state of excitement. As she enconviction be with you night and day. I, Made- tered, she heard such epithets as, "the fool,”" the line Mansfield, have told you so-I, who of all idiot,” “the senseless, brainless fool." "It's no others you have most wronged. I repeat what I use, Mr. Bramwell," quoth the old gentleman when have learned from the book of life; I say, "Nei-Madeline stood at his side-" It's no use; but her do I condemn thee. Go and sin no there is no such thing as a sensible woman -no such thing. One rushes into one extreme, like Mrs. Smith; and the other, like Madeline-and yet, I tell you what it is, sir,” he continucd, moving his gout stool with his stick—“ I tell you what it is-(hang this stool; the French air, sir, has spoiled it altogether-warped the English elm, more than it could ever do to the English oak)

Mrs. Mansfield should be able to act for them, so
convinced were they of her noble mind and high
integrity. This compliment, when conveyed to
her in the business-like letter of the solicitor,
certainly made her heart beat more fervently,
though she read it by the dim lamp-light of a
chamber, sick well nigh to death. It was matter
of astonishment to Madeline's friends how she
ever lived through a month of never-ending watch-
ing and suspense. There was no rest-no reprieve.
It was only the exchange of one anxiety for an-
other. The struggle between life and death, between
reason and insanity, was such, that her very devo-
tion to the sufferer would have tempted her to pray
that he might be released, had it not been for the
blessed faith which, the greater the peril, the wild-
er the storm, will of a surety go on increasing in
the true believer; that which causeth the feeble to
cry to the grave for refuge, enableth the brave to
defy death. Thus it was with Madeline. The
strength of the spirit withstood the tremor of the
flesh. Shaken for a moment, as all christians are
at times-however oppressed, or worn, or weary,
in the twilight, in the noon.day, in the dim mid-more.'"
night watches, even when she deemed him she And they parted. Long after, when that ardent,
loved in the valley of the shadow of death-sheerring spirit, bright, yet spotted with both folly and
never doubted! Her worthy Uncle Oliver, much
as he blamed her, could not avoid following her to
Paris, where, despite of the kindest intentions in
the world, he materially increased her discomfort,
by his dislike to the country and to her husband;
but nothing moved her from her duty.

crime, pursued a profession replete with dangers
and temptations to the purest and the best-often,
amid the plaudits of approving hands-often, in
the poisoned atmosphere of envy, or the cloying
sickliness of flattery, or the dangers of unholy jes-
ting, did that real scene, and those blessed words,
return to the wanderer's memory; never but to
serve-often to save! When the glittering gems,
false as the scenes in which they glittered, fell from
her brow, and self-reproach-for much that she

smote upon her heart-then would the words of
forgiveness come to her, full of healing. And in
her dreams, the vision of Madeline would stand
before her-the image of her whom, when unseen
and unknown, she hated with a southern's jealousy
but who, when seen, won her by conduct so differ-
ent from any thing she had imagined possible, that
she became enshrined to her poor erring spirit,
as a holy memory, for ever.

She was by her husband's bedside one evening, when Mansfield, who had been for upwards of three weeks in a state that defies description, had fallen into a comparatively quiet sleep; his poor restless head was still, and his arms were quiet.—had left undone, and much that she had doneMadeline was thankful for the repose, when she thought she heard voices in the ante-room in low but earnest discourse. The chamber of the sick man was so spacious, that it took her some little time, stealing along on tip-toc, to reach the door.There she found Lewis opposing a lady's entrance, not satisfied with his powers of persuasion, but standing so as to prevent her from entering. Madeline at once knew who the stranger was; but the instant she saw Mrs. Mansfield, she threw herself on her knees, and, in smothered accents, entreated to see Mr. Mansfield once more. "He will not know me," she murmured; "and as I am returning to my own country, I could not bear to depart without imploring you to grant me this act of mercy." Instead of repulsing her, as Lewis expected she would have done, she suffered her to follow her to the bedside, and though her hand trembled, she shaded the light from his eyes-eyes that, sleeping or waking, were unconscious of all that had occurred, and only saw the dissolving plantoms of a heated brain. The Italian looked long and earn. estly upon him, and what passed in her mind can only be known to the Almighty, for she spoke no word. At last, she sunk on her knees by the bedside, and pressing her face on the counterpane,lieve that you are there." wept most bitterly. The unconscious sufferer tossed his hands, and as one rested for an instant near her, she kissed it. Madeline turned away. The quick Italian perceived it; and rising, whispered her, "It is the last-we shall meet no more." She drew the curtain, and added, And you, can you forgive me? can you really forgive me? Can you think of and not curse me? Are you really so

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I'll tell what it is, it does not at all signify to such a woman as Madeline who she marries; it is sufficient that he is her husband-that is all, sir. If she had the misfortune to be married to a Frenchman-I put the case as strongly as I can-if she, Madeline, had the misfortune, though an English woman, to be married to a Frenchman, even to a Bonaparte, my belief is, she'd have followed him into exile-there!" and he struck his stick violent. ly upon the floor.

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My dear uncle," said Madeline.

"Here, again, she gets over me, sir, with her softness, and drives me mad with her resolution.—— Look at her; the shadow of herself-fading—faded; nearer death at this moment than he she has been watching over and praying for, as if he were a saint instead of a sinner."

"A saint would not need my prayers,” replied Mrs. Mansfield, parrying the old gentleman's bitterness. "A rascal," persisted Uncle Oliver.

"Uncle," interrupted Madeline, " you know I

suffer neither hard names nor hard words towards him.”

How many are there who pass through life without noting that in the exercise of forbearance is a mighty power-a power felt and appreciated when the storm and the reproach would be forgotten. At last the patient, whom Madeline had so watched and so prayed for, began to recover; his con. sciousness returned, and then he hung upon Made. line's words and Madeline's looks with apparently "Look at her now," said the old gentleman; the same feeling which makes a child cling to its "see how crimson her cheek is, and how her lip mother. His mind was even more feeble than his trembles the moment a word is said against him; body. When he was able to endure an increase of and now, because she will neither quarrel with light in his room, he begged that the curtain might me, nor hear him abused, she walks out of the be withdrawn; and Madeline sat writing with room. I'd give a hundred pounds to feed the noiseless pen by his side. Suddenly she looked up, Frenchmen one day with good roast beef, if she and saw his eyes fixed upon her. would only call him a rascal! but she won't-she "Speak," he said, "speak, for I can hardly be- will not. Mansfield will sign any thing she'll ask

Madeline smiled-a smile which expressed more than mere mortal beauty ever could-and said a few fond words.

He passed his hand over her face, and amid her hair, and then felt the arm, so thin and worn, that not a trace of its roundness remained. "How changed," he sighed-" how sadly changed; and it is all my work!" and he sobbed and cried, cov.

now, and so she'll give up her property; and when he gets better, he'll be off again. The evil spirit is luled, not expelled; and then, when the devil (who likes new and rich faces) bids him good-bye, she'll believe he is reformed. My poor Madeline, my bright pure spirit, so like my sister! And you and I, Bramwell, who would have made such admirable husbands--you and I”—and the old gentleman shook his head.