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passing through the wood I met her. Her face was I lived in the village very long, I have set down. I cleared from every cloud, no trace of a tear was evi. never saw her after I passed her in the woods. But dent; she had prepared herself to meet her party in she made an impression on my mind that will not be a way to excite no inquiry.

easily removed. And she bore in her heart motives The little that I knew of the Gipsy Queen previous for action which few but herself and me will ever to ibat day, and what was told me by one who had know.

THE BROTHER'S LAMENT.

BY MRS. AMELIA B. WELBY.

One moment more, beneath the old elm, Mary,

Where last we parted in the flowing dell-
One moment more through twilight tints that vary,

To gaze upon thy grave, and then, farewell!
Ere from this spot, and these loved scenes I sever,

Where still thy lovely spirit seems to stray-
One look-to fix them on my soul forever-

And then away!
Mary, I know my steps should now be shrinking

From this sad spot-but on my mournful gaze
A scene floats up that sets my soul to thinking

On all the dear delights of other days! I'm gazing on the little foot-bridge yonder

Thrown o'er the stream whose waters purl below, Where I so oft have seen thee pause and ponder,

Leaning thy white brow on thy hand of snow.
I'm standing on the spot where last we parted,

Where, as I left thee in the fragrant dell,
I saw thee turn so oft-half broken-hearted-

Waving thy hand in token of farewell.
I start to meet thy footstep light and airy-

But the cold grass waves o'er thy sweet young head; Would that the shroud that wraps thy fair form, Mary,

Wrapped mine instead!
In vain my heart its bitter thoughts would parry,

An adder's grasp about its chords seem curled,
For you were all I ever thought of, Mary-

Were all I doted on in this wide world!
And yet, I'd sigh not while thy fate I ponder,

Did memory only bring thee to my eyes
Pale as thou sleepest in the church-yard yonder-

Or as an angel dazzling from the skies!
I then at least could treasure each sweet token

Of thy pure love—and in life's mad'ning whirl
Steel my crushed heart—had not thine own been broken,

Poor hapless girl!
But, Mary-Mary, when I think upon thee,

As when I last beheld thee in thy pride

And on the fate-oh God !—to which he won thee

I curse the hour that sent me from your side! Oh why wert thou so richly, strangely gifted

With mortal loveliness beyond compare?
The look of love beneath thy lashes lifted-

Its fatal sweetness was to thee a snare!
Yet sleep, my sister-I will not upbraid thee-

Thou wert too sweet—too innocently dear;
But he-the exulting demon who betrayed thee

He lives, he lives, and I am loitering here !
Even now some happier fair one's chains may bind him

In dalliance sweet—but I'll avenge thee well! Avenge thee?-Yes! a brother's curse will find him,

Though he should dive into the deeps of hell! I swear it, sister-as thou art forgiven

By all our wrongs—by all our severed ties, And by the blessedness of yon blue heaven,

That gives its world of azure to mine eyes ! By all my love-by every sacred duty

A brother owes—and by you heaving sod, Thine early grave—and by thy blighted beauty,

Thou sweetest angel in the realms of God! syear it, by the bursting groans I smother,

And call on Heaven and thee to nerve me now. Mary, look down !-behold thy wretched brother,

And bless the vow !

Sister, my soul its last farewell is taking,

And I for this had thought it nerved to-night, But every chord about my heart seems breaking,

And blinding tears shut out the glimmering sight. One look-one last long look to hill and meadow

To the old foot-bridge and the murmuring mill, And to the church-yard sleeping in the shadow

Cease tears—and let these fond eyes look their fill! One look-and now farewell ye scenes that vary

Beneath the twilight shades that round me flow! The charm that bound my wild heart here, was Mary

And she lies low!

SONNET TO MACHIAVELLI.

FROM THE ITALIAN OF MAMIANI.

Thou mighty one, whose winged words of yore

Have spread on history's page Italia's wars,

The sad mischances of intestine jars, Like beacons blazing where the breakers roar. Still canst thou glance our civil discords o'er ?

Some solace for us canst thou not divine ? Canst thou not oil on troubled waters pour,

And soothe each petty tyrants ruthless mind ? Why else unveil the falsehood of our land,

Which sees not why its tale thou deign'st to tell ? Why else didst thou with an unsparing hand

Make bare the wounds whose angry scars will tell The lasting shame of ignomy's brand, All petrified at history's command ?

THE DARSIES.

BY EMMA C. EMBURY.

Don Pedro. I pray you, hold me not responsible for all these travelers' tales. I am but the mouthpiece of others: therefore, if I question the infallibility of the Pope, summon me not before the Inquisition; if I speak treason against the king, clap me not up in the Tower; and if I utter heresy against the ladies, let me not be tlayed alive by the nails of enraged damsels. OLD PLAY.

it.

" THERE is no use in wasting words, Cousin " Because you are both too generalizing in your Charles; you never can persuade me that men love remarks. In this work-a-day world of ours there is more devotedly than women.”

a daily and hourly need of the tender, watchful, “How can you be so unreasonable, Anne? I only kindly ministry of sympathy and affection; now the want to convince you that affection being an essen- peculiar attributes of woman's nature are such as fit tial part of woman's nature, she cannot help loving her for this ministry; and whether it be a mere something or somebody all her life. The most she habitude or not, it is the quality most needed by men does, even in her most intense devotion, is to indi- and most generally possessed by women." vidualize the general sentiment which pervades her Anne clapped her hands, and looked triumphantly character; but when men love, they actually take up at her cousin; but Uncle Lorimer continued a new nature, and concentrate upon it all their -“I must agree with Charles, however, that when strength of mind and force of character."

men give out their whole strength to a genuine affer “ You have certainly a droll method of reasoning, tion, it is a more unselfish, magnanimous and higher cousin; because women are loving creatures, there emotion than ever could dwell in the bosom of fore they cannot love as well as the rougher sex.” woman. The same qualities which make her the

“ You are willful, Anne, and are determined not gentler half of man mingle their leaven in her aflec. to understand me. I mean that love is usually a tions. For instance, a woman will make any sacrihabitude with women, while with men, if it exists fice for one whom she loves, she will bear all kinds at all, it is a positive, determinate thing-a graft, as of privation and suffering for his sake, but earth it were, upon their sturdy natures, and partaking holds not the creature more pitilessly exacting of therefore of the strength of the stock which nourishes affection than she is, or more jealously awake 10

every whisper of distrust. Another weakness in her "How can you say so when men are always in character is vanity; and I must confess I never yet love, from the time they quit the nursery until they found a woman so much in love with her lover, that are gray-headed, or married ?!!

she would not curl her bair and dress in her best to " Such attachments are mere fancies."

meet the eyes of other men.” "Pray, how is one to distinguish between a fancy "Oh! uncle. You are worse than Charles." and a fact in so delicate a matter?

“But perhaps you will like to hear my whole “It is difficult to decide at first, because in their in- opinion, Anne. I have said that women possess ceptive state they are much alike; but time is the most of the quality which is required in daily life; true test. A fancy, a mere intoxication of the senses, as I am not one of those who pretend to despise good is scarce worth talking about; but in a genuine manly habits because they are not heroic virtues, I think love there is a depth, a fervor, a disinterestedness, a you ought to be satisfied with my decision." devotion, such as woman can never feel-nay, which “But you attribute so much nobler a quality to they can rarely appreciate.”

“ Heresy-rank heresy-Cousin Charles. I appeal “ That is true, but let me comfort yon by just to Uncle Lorimer, who has heard our whole discus- whispering in your ear, that not one man in a thou. sion, if you do not deserve excommunication with sand is capable of such an affection. True senti'bell, book and candle,' for holding such opinions." ment is the rarest thing upon earth. To use the

The cousins were sitting together in the twilight, language of your favorite poetand, as the shadows of evening deepened around Accident, blind contact, and the strong necessity of loving, them, the light of the soft-coal fire in the polished often bring together hearts which habit afterward grate gave a beautifully cheerful look of home com- keeps united. Few, very few, create an ideal in fort to the pleasant apartment. An old gentleman, their youth and see it substantiatize into a reality whose silver hair glittered in the fire-light, had been

as life goes on. Still fewer of those men who sitting in the chimney-nook, and, thus appealed to by are capable of real love ever bestow its treasures his merry niece, he smiled good-humoredly as he upon one who can appreciate them. I think I have replied—

never known a single instance of such an attachment "If you submit the dispute to me, I must decide being reciprocated and rewarded.” against both.”

“ Did you ever know more than one man who pog. “Why so ?

sessed this faculty of loving, uncle ?"

men."

“In the course of my long life I have known three; | him suffering had been a teacher of all good things, and if you choose I will tell you the history of one and the misfortune of being cut off from fellowship of these, to prove my theory."

with the world had taught him to find resources Among my earliest school friends and playmates within himself. He could not and did not expect were Edgar and Herbert Darsie. They were twin- Edgar 10 sympathize in all his tastes, for he was brothers, the only children of a widow, whom I re-conscious that their paths must henceforth be divided member as a tall, pale lady in close mourning, which ones. He schooled himself to overcome the pang she never laid aside till the day of her death. There which this reflection gave to his sensitive spirit, and was little of that resemblance between the twins tried to find in his brother's enjoyments of outer life, which generally makes the pleasant puzzle of mo- a pleasure which he could only receive from the thers and nurses in similar cases; for, though alike reflection of another's joy. in feature and height, and even in their peculiarity Soon after their return from Europe, Mrs. Darsie of gait and manner, yet Edgar had the fair com- received into her family the orphan child of a poor plexion, blue eyes, andslight silken hair of his mo- clergyman, partly from charity, parily with a view ther; while Herbert's olive complexion, dark eyes, to furnish a companion and attendant for Herbert. and curling black locks betrayed the French blood Jessie Graham was a pale, delicate-looking child, which he derived from his father. They were cheer about twelve years old, when she took up her abode ful, happy-tempered boys, and possessed a certain with her benefactress. Her thin and almost transnatural sweetness of manner, which made them uni- parent cheek, her bloodless lips, and large gray, versal favorites with old and young. Their mother timid-looking eyes, spoke of fragile health, and of a lived in the retired but handsome style which, in certain shyness of character which might be the rethose days, was considered the proper mode of sult of early anxieties, or perhaps denoted feebleness showing respect for ihe memory of a husband. She of mind and indecision. But she was a sweetkept up the establishment exactly as it had been tempered, gentle little girl, and her compassion for during Mr. Darsie's life, and seemed to find her only Herbert's melancholy condition soon dissipated her pleasure in doing precisely as he would have wished. shyness toward him, though to every one else, even She was apparently in the enjoyment of a handsome to Mrs. Darsie, she was as timid as a startled fawn. income, kept her carriage, and had a number of ser- To divert his lonely hours Herbert undertook her vants, while the house and grounds exhibited taste instruction. He was but a boy of fifteen, but sorrow as well as no stint of expense.

had given him the stability of manhood; and never The boys were about twelve years of age, when did a more discreet, tender, and watchful Mentor an accident happened to Herbert, which, though appa- attempt the training of a female mind. Jessie was rently slight at first, finally led to the most disastrous docile and intelligent, quickly acquiring every thing consequences. While skating, he fell and received which called forth the perceptive faculties, but utterly some injury, which, after months of suffering, finally incapable of abstract reasoning or profound reflection. developed itself in an incurable disease of the spine, Her mind possessed a certain activity, and a kind of entailing upon him a life-time of pain, and branding feminine patience that enabled her to do full credit him with frightful deformity. The tall, lithe, grace. to her teacher, without ever attaining to his high ful boy, whose step had been as light and free as the reach of thought. To cultivate her mental powers, leap of the greyhound, was now a dwarfed and dis- to impart to her a portion of his accomplishments, torted cripple. As soon as he was able to leave his and to train her moral sense, now became Herbert's sick-room, Mrs. Darsie placed Edgar at boarding, chief occupation. That such employment of heart school, and sailed for Europe, with the intention of and mind saved him from bitterness and misanthropy giving Herbert the benefit of all the modern discove there can be no doubt; but whether he did not pay ries in medicine. She designed to be absent a year, dearly for his exemption we shall see in the sequet. but, led on by fallacious hopes, she traveled farther, Time passed on without making any great change and remained much longer than she had anticipated in the affairs of the Darsies. Edgar went through Three years elap-ed before her return, and to all ap- college rather because it was necessary to a genpearance Ilerbert had derived little benefit from the tlemanly education than from any love for study, and, various experiments to which he had been subjected immediately after graduating, he set off on the tour He was still dependent on his crutch, and his gnarled of Europe. In the meantime Herbert continued to and stunted figure presented a pitiable contrast to the lead his usual quiet life, driving out in bis low ponytall and well-knit form of his brother. But his health carriage every day, teaching Jessie all she would was somewhat improved; his paroxysms of pain learn, and surrounding himself with pictures of his were less frequent, and he could now enjoy weeks own painting in the intervals of his severer studies. of comparative ease and comfort.

It was on the anniversary of their birth-the day The brothers had early been remarkable for their they attained their twenty-first year—that the brothers affection for each other, and their unbroken concord, again met upon ibeir own hearth-stone. Mrs. Darsie's but their long separation had not been without its health had begun to fail, and Edgar, at Herbert's effect upon them. Edgar was gay, active, volatile, suggestion, had unwillingly torn himself from the and not destitute of a leaven of selfishness; while enjoyments of Parisian life to return to his quiet Herbert had become grave, quiet, gentle in manner, home. He found his mother sadly changed, and and most thoughtful and considerate for others. To evidently suffering from the insidious disease which so slowly saps the foundations of health and life. , that from that time he looked upon her with far difHerbert, like all deformed persons, had early lost the ferent eyes than he had at first regarded her. Edgar freshness of youth, and he was not surprised, there- was precisely the kind of man who is always sucfore, to find him looking at least ten years older than cessful with women. His talents and accomplishhimself, but he was astonished at the intellectual ments were all of the most superficial kind, but he beauty which seemed to radiate from his noble coun- danced well, sung beautifully, played the guitar tenance. To the shapeless form of a stunted tree he gracefully, and withal was exceedingly handsome. united the head of a demi.god. The beauty of his His voice was perfect music, and when he bent down classical features, the splendor of his deep, dark eyes, in a half-caressing manner over a lady's chair, fling. and rich glossy hair curling in heavy masses round ing back his bright, silken hair, and gazing in her his temples, gave him the appearance of a nagni- face with eyes full of dangerous sofiness, while his ficently sculptured head joined on to some distorted rich voice took the sweetest tone of deference and torso.

heart-felt emotion, it was next to impossible for any But if Edgar was startled at the change in his woman to resist his fascinations." mother and brother, how was he amazed and be- “ Was his character a perfectly natural one, uncle, wildered when he saw Jesse Graham! The pale, or was this exquisite manner the result of consumpuny, frightened-looking little girl had expanded into mate art ?" one of the very loveliest of women. At eighteen “It was natural to him to wish to please, and he Jessie had all that delicate yet fresh beauty which a aided his natural attractions by a certain devotedness painter would select as his model for a youthful of manner, which made each individual to whom be Hebe. “A rose crushed upon ivory” was not too addressed himself appropriate his tenderness as her extravagant a simile for her cheek; her lips were own right. Jessię had lived in such close seclusion like the berry of the mountain-ash; and her eyes so that she knew nothing of the world or its ways. It soft, so tender, with just enough of their former shy- is probable that had Herbert asked her to become his ness to make them always seem appealing in their wife before the return of Edgar, she would have expression, were like nothing else on earth." easily consented, for she certainly loved him very

“ You are extravagant, Uncle Lorimer; pray how dearly, and long habit of associating with him bad did you avoid falling in love with such a creature?" accustomed her to his deformity. To her he was not asked Anne, saucily.

the shapeless dwarf, whose crippled limbs scarce “By the best of all preventives-pre-occupation. bore the weight of his crooked body. He had been But my story has to do with others, not with me. her ideal of excellence-lhe friend, the Mentor who Soon after Edgar's return, his mother took an oppor had made her orphaned life a blessing, and she could tunity to inform him of her plans with regard to imagine no stronger, deeper affection than that which Jessie. She had watched the progress of Herbert's he had long since inspired. attachment to his young pupil, and she believed it to But afier Edgar had been at home a few months, be fully reciprocated by the docile girl. She had, she was conscious of a great change in her feelings. therefore, as she ihought, fully provided for Herbert's She loved Herbert as well as ever, but she had fuiure happiness; and, lest Edgar should be attracted learned the existence of another kind of affection. by Jessie's loveliness, she hastened to tell him that in Edgar's sweet words and honied flatteries were unlike the beautiful orphan he beheld his brother's future any thing she had ever heard before, and unconscious wife. Mrs. Darsie was a weak woman, though of any disloyalty to Herbert, she gave herself up 10 kind-hearted and affectionate. She proceeded to the enjoyment of this new sensation of happiness. inform Edgar how the idea first came into her head- Herbert was tried almost beyond his strength, for how she had told Her beri of it-how she had been at it was when his mother lay on what was soon to be first shocked at the thought of sacrificing Jessie's her death-bed that he first suspected the fatal truth youthful loveliness to such a union-how she dis- respecting his brother and Jessie. A lingering illness, covered bis secret love even from his heroic self-protracted through many weeks (during which time denial-how she had finally succeeded in persuading Herbert was his mother's constant companion, while him that Jessie really loved him better than any one Edgar enjoyed the opportunity of unrestrained comin the world—and how he had at last consented to panionship with Jessie,) finally terminated in Mrs. entertain the hope and belief that Jessie might be- Darsie's death; and, as Herbert closed her eyes, be come his wife without repugnance. To Edgar's could not but feel that sinking of the heart which told very natural question, whether Jessie was really him that he was now alone upon earth. Immediately willing to marry Herbert, his mother replied that as after his mother's funeral he was taken alarmingly yet Jessie knew nothing of their plans, Herbert ill, and for several days his life was considered in having forbidden her to use her influence in the imminent danger. It was not until his recovery that matter, being determined that if he won Jessie, it he again saw Jessie Graham, who, in compliance should be through her own free and unbiassed will. with the world's notions of decorum, had left the

Whether it arose from that perverseness in human home of her childhood on the decease of her benenature, which teaches men to value a thing just in factress. She had found her temporary abode in the proportion to its difficulty of attainment, or whether family of a friend in the neighborhood, and Herbert's Jessie's loveliness was irresistible to a man of Edgar's sick-bed had known no other attendance than that of temperament, I cannot determine; but certain it is, | the housekeeper and servants. In his first interview

with Jessie after his convalescence, he drew from poverty, Herbert's decision was at once made. He ber a confession, or rather an admission of her love proposed dividing his income with Edgar, on confor Edgar. The manner in which she confided this dition that his brother should marry Jessie, and reto him—the frank, sisterly feeling which seemed 10 side in the home of their childhood, while he himself animate her, stung him to the heart. But he possessed should travel into distant lands. But Edgar, with great self-command, and Jessie never suspected the the quick-sightedness of selfishness, saw how deeply actual state of his feelings while she confided to him Herbert's soul was interested in the matter. Preher own.

tending a jealousy of his brother's influence over As soon as practicable after Herbert's recovery, Jessie--a jealousy of which he declared himself his mother's will was opened, and then arose a new ashamed, yet which he could not subdue-he said subject of wonder and dissatisfaction. No one but that if he had the means he would marry Jessie, and Mrs. Darsie and her lawyer had known that she had take her far from all her early associations, but that been merely in the enjoyment of a lise interest in her he would never let her live in Herbert's house, or in forfune; but it was now ascertained that her hus

a place where she might at any time be subject to band's estate had been very trifling, and that her his visits. large income was the product of a handsome fortune

Pained as he was by this appearance of distrust, bequeathed to Herbert by an old uncle, in considera Herbert's conscience accused him of cherishing a tion of his physical misfortunes. The yearly pro- wicked love for one who was about to become his duct was given to Mrs. Darsie during her life, but at brother's wife, and he therefore submitted meekly to her death the whole reverted to Herbert. His father's this new trial. What terms were finally decided upon property, amounting only to a few thousand dollars, could only be known at that time to the two brothers. was bequeathed solely to Edgar, and a legacy of five Six months after Mrs. Darsie's death Edgar was hundred dollars, (to purchase her wedding-dress, as united to Jessie Graham, in the little village church, the will stated,) marked the testator's wishes regard- and immediately after the ceremony, the weddinging her protégé, Jesse Graham. Every body was party left for New York, from whence they sailed a surprised at this development, but no one more so few days afterward for Havre. than the brothers. Why their mother had left them Herbert dismissed the greater part of the servants, in such close ignorance of their affairs, it is impos- shut up all except one wing of the large house, sold sible to say, but they certainly had no suspicion of off the carriage and horses, (reserving only the liule the facts until they were thus legally made known. pony-carriage, without which he would have been

One of the first wishes of Herbert's heart was to deprived of all means of locomotion,) and restricted see Jessie placed in her proper position, and he there his expenses within such narrow limits, that people fore nerved bimself to speak to Edgar on the subject. began to consider him mean and miserly. He withWhat was his surprise, therefore, when his brother drew entirely from society, and lived more utterly treated the whole thing as a boyish affair, and avowed alone than ever. His books, his pictures, his music, his determination to spend his pittance (as he termed were now his only companions. Yet he did not forit) abroad, and then to repair his fortunes by a wealthy get that earth held those to whom even he might marriage! If ever the gentle spirit of Herbert enter- minister. The door of the poorest cottages often tained a feeling of abhorrence for any living creature, opened to admit the distorted form of the benefactor it was at that moment. His own hopes had been and friend, but the sunlight on the rich man's threshold ruthlessly blighted, and Jessie's heart estranged from was never darkened by his shapeless shadow. him, merely to gratify a boyish fancy !

Edgar Darsie went to Paris with his beautiful wife, What he suffered, and what he felt, however, it is and there he lived in luxury and splendor, surrounded not for me to attempt describing. He had garnered by every thing that could minister to his love of up all his treasures of affection in Jessie and his pleasure. Only himself and one other, the lawyer brother. Now Jessie was lost to him, and Edgar who had drawn up the papers, knew whence his was a villain. How he, with his delicate sensibility, wealth was derived. Even Jessie never suspected his high sense of honor, and his stern principles of that Herbert was living with the closest economy in duty, must have suffered, I leave you to imagine. order that the poor should not suffer from the lavish But his love for Jessie conquered all other feelings. generosity which had induced him to secure to his He knew that her happiness depended on her union brother more than three-fourths of his whole income with Edgar, for she was precisely that kind of as a bribe to insure her happiness. character, which, though infirm of purpose in the Ten years passed away, dragging their weary outset, yet have a certain tenacity of feeling when length with the lonely and suffering Herbert, winging once a decision has been made for them. He revolved their way on golden pinions to Edgar, weaving their many schemes in his mind before he could form a mingled web of dark and bright 10 the womanly heart practicable one, and at last he suffered his frank and of Jessie. She had witnessed the changes of a fickle candid nature to lead him with its usual directness nature in her husband-she had learned to endure to his object. He asked Edgar to be more explicit in indifference, and to meet with fitful affection from his confidences, and when Edgar declared that had him-she had borne children, and laid them sorrowhe been the heir of wealth he would gladly make ing in the bosom of mother earth-she had drunk of Jessie his wife, but that nothing would ever induce the cup of pleasure and found bitterness in its dregs; him to tie himself down to a life of privation and and now she stood a weeping mourner beside the

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