Louise Martin, the village maiden, or, The dangers of city life
page: 0Advertisement (TitlePage) [View Page 0Advertisement (TitlePage) ] GAZETWE OF POLITE LITERATURE: DEVOTED TO ORIGINAL TALES -LEGENDS TRANSLATIONS-TRAVELLING, LITER- ART AND HSTORICALz SKETCHTIES , BIOGRAPHY, POETRY, ETC.; AND CONTAINING A VARIETY OF MATTER CONNECTED WITH MANY SITRJTECTES OF IMPORTANCE AND INTIEREST.. FACTS AND PHLOSOPHY FOR GENNrLC','%TETP, HNTS 'AND ENTERTAINMEN'r F 0R L A D.1, P-` QUESTIONS AND DIVERSIONS FOR YOUTH. RECREATION AND HARMLESS PASTIME f(", ILL. 'With the great encouraijtement the, UNCLE SAM h;,s received, the Proprietol ,ft rssed bv,any paper in the whole ;1"Id for t'if r, il, )lc 'rhe original and settled articles which it contains ,s a-. ii': ,:i[:) a lhho Irnarket' only. btt for aeneradd acceptation and universe interesYi. O, ,:v %u - II j , .:, to retihe while: it instructs, Vh NL;l ick :: I;:shw -0 all -o i whio love order and inorality, without bit:.Hroess ia-, E.,wingy secured the Services of a nunierous and talenltedt cor w ... e :tt elc ide,.,i it., our ablility, as well as itl our Wod illtentions. h NL Ab i e r d, eetf!, Ie The UNCLE SAM wii;;l olltan be rne, sheeoiro ,hw e iv-,-Jtine ,p; n-1 conair, e week, T-HHR'Y-1-WO 'J! -\1 f cho V6f all also cull from'all the best foreign magaziner,.-nd papcrerurcr rsr both instructiou'afid amusement4 lrr short, we intendthat';:,- UINCLE b L, li , b a excep)Itionable 'i : 'FAMLY JOU RNAL. N4oth'ng is admitted 'into its columns calculated to raise a blush upon the. cheek of 1,1 Mg n;acf eigawd to appear which a modest female should hesitate read '-ud J6. t taisp c'lf t u 'i.4,isaim,si t n::futii ac a eieklyP paper that is not only livelyaand entertaining, but s An, -,We Oil1 .tl- ,fidintt-ot-succeeding. havirig secured the BEST of tal ,-.';:, LiEVBOOK ELLERS ls:E,LES AND.,NE*ZSENES Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, bY GEoRad N V;LI*as, inths Clk'B Office of the District Court of Mosaaehiisetts. page: 0[View Page 0] "OUISE MARTIN. CHAPTER 1. 'Ever note, Lucilius, When love begins to sicken and decay, It useth an enforced ceremony. There are no tricks in plain and simple faith: But hollow men, like horses hot at hand, "take gallant show and promise of their mettle: But when they should endure the bloody spear, They fall their crests, and, like deceitful jades, Sink in the trial.' IN a small village ip one of the back towns of Maine, lived the widow Martin and her only daughter Louise, a girl who had seen eighteen summers, and whose beauty had at- tracted many admirers in her native place, but none had yet made any proposals to her in due form. One young man, however, had, once hinted to her that he thought more of her than he did of any other girl in the town. His name was John Stebbins, a stalwart1 hardy, tough fellow, and,.an apprentie to the blacksmith's trade. He had not quite reached his majority; but longed for the day to come when he could vote, be a free man, and work for wages. In the village was one small tavern, tw, I stores, a blacksmith's shop, a school-houso a small' church, a shoemaker's-little shoi b with the sign of a boat and\a shoe over the door, and a pile of leathern scraps and shavings in front, a dilapidated cooper's shop and several dwelling-houses. A short dis- tance from this small clump of buildings stood a saw and grist-miH on a little stream, which in dry seasons afforded hardly suffi. cient waterpower to turn the wheel of the grist-mill , . I 'The cooper's shop stood back of the Widow Matting' one storied, unpainted house, and formed a part of her earthly p session ; for her husband, before his dathiiw.- cooper by trade and manufactured cider barrels, butter tubs, and other articles which ' might be called for. Mr., Martin wage honest man, and industrious when he :chd keep away from the tavern and the two'sthoes ': where intoxicating liquors were sold some. what freely. The unfortunate man lived and died severalyears, before the ' Maine Liquor Law: was ever thought ot: iHe had always beet a hard-working, mania :ana for-' :or three years before. hisdeath:a hard d nl -f. wmarin spite of .a'll wife. e . s' raas, and the fteaM his iovelyaiieB ' tr. Theie was a titw(ien h: i ad ait n e do a sn telittle, 4ertysand 'lived quite inde- pendent: -tfiwl hen died he left nothing but his ho utijl, -hop anda. small garden page: 8-9[View Page 8-9] spot. His other earnings he had drank up M at the tavern and groceries., ha When our story commences, he hadbeen w in his grave nearly three years; but the w widow contrived to live comfortably and d; clothe herself and daughter decently. She tt was what in common parlance is called a h smart woman, and Louise was considered d a very beautiful girl. So far as beauty and c smartness were concerned she was decidedly p the belle of the little village. Her moral a character was never touched by the foul ii breath of slander; but she was a poor drunk- n ard's daughter, and poverty kept her in the a humble walk,'of life.' Even in this little f village there were young ladies who felt i themselves above associating with Louise l Martin. The two grocers of the village and the itavern-keeper had daughters who moved in a rank above the cooper's daughter. Yet the latter possessed much more personal beauty than either of the former. Louise knew full well that the parents of these young ladies ler poor, and thatconsidera- { the quick; for she was )us. The articles of finery eared at the village Church be^^. ..-,- ..r th the cooper's hard earned money, for which he had received nothing but liquid poison that destroyed his habits of industry and hurried him into a drunkard's grave. Every time Louise saw these girls at Church or walking in the streets of the vil- lagein their new bonnetS and silk dresses, she felt as if justice was not done in this world, aiid hoped that the time might come 1 when she couil-di ecmie their equals!or even -rinse above thelr A'smail mirrorin her little chamber revea iihe fact to her that she was by no means destitute of personal- !arms, and these charms she was determined to bring to a good market. The truth is, Louise Martin was proud spirited and aspiring, and had often dreamed of a husband whose wealth would command the respect of the world and raise her even above the grocers' daughters in her own native village. Such thoughts often occupied her mind, and c e-e;: her good mother sometimes h .:,:i;!:r dreams. Perhaps if her father ha,; not b:,- come a drunkard and left herself tri1 :xyfior poor, Louise might not have ind;aeit 3111ch aspirations, and probably she would to::t i are indulged them to such an extent if LrT 'bad not seen these village girls so finely ,i :,;t ed at her father's expense. The liqi.,' their fathers had sold had not only cilote'i diern in purple and fine linen, but hiad al-io ac prived her of the means of his. 'ing as goes.' a wardrobe-as they possessed, .d drove L. into a rank below them. H1r proud spi' could not brook such'.considi ':;^,rs a'.i ^:i was restless and unhappy ura(:;: ^ lam. For more than a year she :;1i, been con- I templating a visit to Boston; ,he purposeX of seeking employment, and iyslg her fci. * tune in the city. She was :.;ecdingly apt 5 with the needle and so was ei 'r....^',-- r Since her husband's death . id some time I previous to that melancholy 4( ir., the widow i had followed dress-making, ( Louise had r become somewhat skilled ir' t):'1 art. She f flattered herself that she coui]- ..:.ceed as a s fashionable dress-maker in i- 'lty, and ac- cumulate'xhoney after she had .vrked awhile tt at the trade with some skillful woman. Her - mother had serious doubts and misgivings 3 about her going to the city where there are so riiriy snares 'and temptations; but after e a: long consideration of the subject, she n finally consented, and all the necessary prepa- e rations were made for her departure. Ls It was a beautiful evening 'in the month s, of June, and Louise had been out to bid ;o shme of her more intimate friends a farewell te previouss to her leaving the village the next morning. Many of her friends thought the undertaking was a hazardous one, and some of the young village belles who moved in - circles above Louise threw out some hints that she was going for no good purpose; but these proud girls envied the cooper's daughter because she possessed more beauty than they did, and, consequently, were not very guarded in their expressions about her visit to Boston. Her intended departure was the subject of much talk and not a little vi l lage slander, especially from young ladies , whose personal charms .were less than hers, Many regretted she had determined to leave r the place' where she was born and bred, s and none regretted it more than several of the young men; but the 'young blacksmith's b heart was more seriously effected than any r other. After he had ascertained that she was really going, he blamed himself for not i( making love to Per more earnestly than he w had; but he was not yettwenty-one yearsofal age and still bound as an apprentice to his is trade, and what could the young man do?-- t He was powerless, and yet felt as if he mi could not be happy without the society of m Louise. "O, mother, the evening is delightful, and ane I think I shall have a good day for my Ste journey to Portland, to-morrow,' said Louise ing as she entered the house, after having made yot some last calls upon her friends. rel 'The weather does promise to be fair but, Louise, I feel very reluctant to let you on go,' replied her mother. 'They say there wid are many wicked young men, and old ones, too, in the city who are constantly upon the too,' watch for country girls.' ' 'I think I understand that,' said Louis. tet myself.' I h ' You may think you do, and yet fail after I sh ail, said the mother. 'It is a great change ' I sh to go from this quiet little village to a large in the )} t the city like Boston. Thousands of girls have some gone from this State there, and been ruined, d in so deacon Marsten told me not two hours hints ago. And he says a good-looking girl is ose; always surrounded by many temptations in her'ss such a city. The deacon knows, for he 'has auty been there several times.' not ' I don't think my- beauty will injure me,' her said Louise. 'I wish I had more of it, and was then, perhaps, I might obtain a rich husband. vil- O, 1 wish I could become rich just to tor- lies ment those proud, haughty Sanford girls! I ers. should almost be tempted to marry a rich ave man, even if I didn't love him much, for the :d; sake of tormenting them.' I of 'I know'they are envious and haughty; h's but you must be cautious how you listen to ny rich men's promises of marriage,' replied the Ihe widow. 'They are often made and never lot intended to be fullfilJed, and you must be he ware of such snares. In such a city it is of almost impossible to tell who is rich and who lis is poor, especially among young men, for - they all dress well and may. appear to have he much money when they are as poor as church 3f mice, so deacon Marston says.' A knocking was now heard at..t e- toor,; d and Louise told her mother it was John y Stebbins, 'or she could distinguish his knbck. ), ing from all others. She was right, and the e young blacksmith entered. The compli- ments of the evening were passed. 'Well, John, I suppose Louise will start on her journey in the morning,' said the widow. ' So, I understand, and wish I was going too,' he replied. 'I wish you were, so that you might pro- tect Louise.,' replied the mother. ' O, I wish I was free!' he said. 'Well, I shall be in less than two months, and then I shall not setqe down in this little place; ' I shouldn't winder if I visited Boston early in the fall. Some say I can get more wages page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] there than I can here, and I think I shall try it.' 'I hope you will, John,' said Louise-- 'Boston is the place to make money, I hope. You will have your trade before you go, and I shall have to learn mine after I get there.' ' You'll soon learn,' replied the young blacksmith. 'You can work better now th than some of the Boston dress-makers, I dare tr say.' b 'Perhaps I can use the needle as well; al but then I must learn the fashions,' said pi Louise; 'If I have the faculty, I'm deter- L mined to be one of the most fashionable tl dress-makers in the city.' c ' You mustn't pitch your tune too high,' said the widow. I ' don't intend to pitch it higher than 1 , can sing it,' replied Louise, laughing. 'But t before another summer comes, I'll show the f Sandford girls that they knew nothing about the fashions.' r ' Well, well, Louise, you must not be too sanguine in your. expectations, lest you be disappointed,' said the mother. 'I hope you ..;1, An twpll and like the place; but after all, , come home again before all want to see home, but learn my trade thoroughly and make money,' replied Louise. The conversation continued for some time, and the young blacksmith took his leave with a heavy heart. It seemed to him that Louise never looked so beautiful before, nor interested him so deeply as she did at this time. There are some birds that look the most beautiful when they spread their plumage to take their flight. And so it was with Louise in the eyes of John Stebbins. He found himself decidedly in love, and longed for his ap prenticeship to expire. CHAPTER II. The stage coach ride. Incidents on the road. The aged couple. Their advice, and ad- monition. The dinner. A youleng man with glazed cap, 4fc. THE morning was bright and beautiful; the air was warm and bland, and the coun- try never looked more refreshing. Long before the sun was up, the widow Martin and her daughter were stirring and making preparation for the journey. The mind of Louise was fixed upon trying her tortunes in the Metropolis of New England, and she could not be moved from her purpose. But we must permit this young village belle re- late her own story. 'I rose very early than two hours soon for the stage coach l seven o'clock, but might as well be up a passed a restless night, and endevored o per- suade me not to go; -but I was ,ptrmorl upon striking out into a ne what I could do for myself. e fore the stage coach arrive made his appearance, and t somewhat excited about my leaving my na- Y tive village. I supposed I had taken iny last interview with him the evening previous, but e' it was evident that the young man loved me 7 more than he was aware of; for I saw a tear 5e in his eye as he assisted me into the carriage, !d and when he bid me farewell "his voice re trembled and its peculiar tones evinced the ul depth of his feelings. I confess his appear- ir ance at that moment very sensibly impressed he my heart; I was not conscious that he loved Bf me so deeply and ardently. It is quite pos- t sible that if he had made known his feelings a few weeks sooner, I might have given up the idea of seeking my fortunes in a distant city; but it was too late, and my mind was made up. The drivr cracked his whip, and away I was borne from my native home, and a kind mother whom I loved most dearly In the stage there was an old gentleman and his wife who were bound for Portland. They were strangers to me, but we soon formed a stage-coach acquaintance, and con. versed freely upon a variety of subjects.- Much time did not elapse before the old lady found out who it was, where was I going, and the object I had in view.' 'Going to Boston, eh?' she said, ad n justing her spectacles, and looking me full r in the face. I told her I was, and hoped I should have i good luck in my endeavors to make money, for my mother was poor, and I intended to help her as well as myself. And going all the way alone?' she asked still gazing upon me with much apparent in- interest, while the husband sat listening; for he appeared to have quite as much curiosity as she had. - All alone,' I replied; ' I think I can find WI the way there, if can't, I will return home.' mO She remained silent for some minutes, and tru still Ulooked at me as if she would read in we tne,:expression of my countenance the in- most feelings oft my heart. Her husband, the too, kept his eyes fastened upon me as if he sa something out of joint. At any rate, the he appeared so to me. 'Have you ever been in Boston?' he he asked. men I told him I had never been twenty miles not from home in my life, which seemed to sur- filthy prise him very much. 'Boston is a great city,' he added. 'All Ithe ' sorts of people there, some good, and some My bad,' aappe 'Yes, and I fear quite as many bad ones "ever as there are good according to all I can hear,' bou" said the old lady. 'One of our neighbor's in P darters went there a few years ago, and she became very wicked -and almost bioke the about As ,and heart of her poor mother! I knew her very and well before- she left home, and she was not early. half so handsome as you are.' eman ' Ah, you flatter me,' I replied, smiling. land. 'Not half so much as the young men soon I will flatter you,' added the good old man. con- 'Let me tell you, young woman, I once s.-- lived in Boston, and know how full the city old is of temptations. I fear you are carrying as I your beauty to a dangerous market. Be- ware of men's flattering tongues. Believe ad- not a tithe they may say to you; I'm old full now, and have been reading men's hearts a for nearly four score years.' 'And do you find them more wicked ey, than you once supposed ' I asked. Ah, young woman, a great deal more d so, he replied. 'Avarice and appetite are ; formidable foes to humanity. They assume '4 rI all sorts of shapes, and however fair they i may seem, still there's sin at the bottom.-. We are told from high authority that the d whole world lieth in wickedness, and the more years pass over our heads the more d truth we find in the remark. I wish you n. well-hope you will succeed in your. enter. - prize; but permit me to caution you against i the wiles of wicked men.' if 'Yes, and of wicked women, too,' adled , the good old lady. ' My wife has well added such a remark,', he replied. 'There are, indeed, sinful wo. men, as well as sinful men, and they will not hesitate to lead their own sex astray for filthy lucre.' "ook out for the avarice of women, and the appetites of men,' said the good old wife. My husband has well said. Avarice and appetite are terrible foes to humanity! I never was in the city to which you are bound, but when I was a girl I resided in Portland. It was a smaller place then than it is now, and yet wickedness did abound. I knew a poor widow there, who page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] had two handsome darters, and both of 'em died miserable deaths in the Almshouse.- ar The mother lived to follow them to un- ' timely and dishonorable graves They were ar once beautiful, innocent gals; but the de- stroyer came, and they fell from that virtue which we ought to prize almost above every other virtue. My old heart bleeds when I think of such things!' Y I was so much affected by this aged th couple's conversation that I knew not what fa to say, and remained silent and thoughtful. fi My strongest sympathies were awakened; b for I saw fears running down the furrowed n cheeks of the old lady. The stage now stopped at a small village and took a team' of fresh horses. We had i ridden about twelve miles; but the time seemed very short to me. I was glad no i other passengers weie taken at this stopping a place; for I desired to hear more from my r aged companions and religious friends. In h a few-minutes we were under way again. ' We are having a fine ride,' said the old man. ' I was afraid the stage would be ful as it is sometimes.' 'We mnv be crowded before we reach led the wife. shall not,' I replied. 'I wish ig to take the boat this eve- ,npany me to Boston.' We have been talking of going there for a year or two past, but I think we shall give it up, we are so old,' he replied.- ' The prospect now is that you will have a pleasant night for your steamboat ride.' 'I never saw a steamboat,' I replied.- ' Such a sight will be a great novelty to me. I hope I shall not be frightened.' 'You must look out for the rowdies on board the boat,' he said. ' Steamboats carry all sorts of passengers, and among them are some very wicked ones.* You must have an eye upon the villains, if any should be on board.' 'I will endeavor to heed all your kind and friendly admonitions,' I answered.- 'You have given me some excellent advice, and I trust I shall profit by it.' 'May the Lord in his mercy help you to do so,' added the old lady. ' We have said nothing but what we believe to be true.' 'Indeed, you have not, and I can assure you I feel under very great obligations for the interest you have manifested in my well- fare,' I answered. 'As you say I shall find all kinds ot characters on board the boat; but if they stealfa rse they will not find quite so much in it as they could wish.' 'They may not seek your purse so anx- iously as something else,' he said. 'Your dark eyes may be more att"' little gold you may possess are thousands who would r money, if they had an opp i of your age always think mo being married. It is all nm d should think so, and men go' 1 accordingly. It is easy for very strong declarations of h many solemn promises of ma declarations and promises bee h to effect their vile purposes. i- you open your ears to such f 'I will endeavor to do so,' e shall study well the heart of "addresses me in the character 'Beware of those who process to tall in a love at first sight,' said the shrewd old lady. ' Such a thing may happen as really - falling in love at first sight, but it does not e. often occur.' The stage was now driven up to a very on respectable looking public house where they ry 'changed horses' again. There were quite re a number of young men standing ,on the an piazza, smoking cigars, talking, laughing, on and watching us as we stepped from the carriage. I heard one of them say as I was passing through the carriage door, 'there's a devilish handsome girl.' Isaw the young man who made the remark. He had upon his head a glazed cap and a cigar in his mouth. In person he was rather tall, and handsomely formed. He had in his hand a fishing-rod, and a kind of basket hanging by his side. I can assure the, reader that his remark did not flatter me in the least degree, but rather disgusted me than otherwise. The aged couple and myself passed into a sitting-room, and waited a few minutes for dinner and the extcange of horses. It was not my purpose to dine, but my aged com- panions insisted upon my taking dinner with them, and I yielded to their request. In a re invited into the dining as we were seated at the 1 ang and quite a number them was the young man sp, who 'took his seat di- me. He was a fine look- id eyed me very sharply.-- long at the table before he to of wine which a waiter lik m. There was a kind of exc tim which did not at all of 'iends. It seemed that my teted the attention of this age kept his eyes upon me cor he did upon the food he ma3 --. - . . not remove my bonnet, but sat with it on. My hair was of a dark old chestnut color, and hung down beside my mer cheeks in large curls; I always wore it in with that fashion. I frankly confess I was proud To, of my hair, for it was very fine and curled spec very naturally. .My complexion, too, was co very clear, but not white. It was rather grea brunette; my eyes were very dark. I think quit I can safely say I was not very proud of hew the little beauty I possessed; still I was dinn not willing to part with any of it for love or 'A money. The young man, I knew from the for a door, expression of his countenance, was anxious saw to say something to me; but. good manners, k.- or, a fear of my old friends, forbid him. He nd a supposed I might be their grandaughter.- ther The old gentleman's eyes were upon him, I in and watched every motion he made. He sket drank his wine freely and shared a portion the, of it with the young men who dined,there. me They seemed to be somewhat acquainted me with each 'other. I was fearful he might offer me some of his wine, but to my joy he ito did not. Heand his companions were very for lively, and had much to say about trout- catching and such matters. ith a ng CHAPTER III. he The aged couple give salutary advice. The er journey continues. The young receives' an council from the lips of age. The part- i Zng. The emotions of a young lady, 4'c. AFTER dinner the old gentleman remarked e to me in the sitting-room that he did not nr like the cut of that young fellew's jib, as he ,f expressed it. The old lady gave some hints "of her dislike. y 'I don't like to see a young fellow of his s age call for his bottle of wine,' said my old companion. 'Such a practice at his age may lead to more dangerous habits.' 'Yes, to the drunkard's grave,' replied the old lady. 'I have kIlown 'several young men who begun their career to such a grave with their bottles of wine at the dinner table. To see a young man drunk is a very sad spectacle for my eyes. The chances of be. coming an useful member of society are greatly against that young fellow. He feels quite big now, but the time may come when he will wish he had not drank wine with his dinner., 'Ah, it is, indeed, a dangerous practice for a young man,' said the husband. 'The page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] stomach is a peculiar organ. When it is fed with stimulating drinks, it continually t criesdfor deeper and stronger potations.- m Like the horse leech it cries for more, and will'.ft be satisfied until it becomes diseased cl andthejnan drops into a premature grave.- Let me say to you, young woman, beware co of these wine-bibbing young men. Ten it chances to one they will become drunkards. And what more miserable condition can a n woman be placed in than to have a drunken husband?' ' t I cordially agreed with the remarks of t these aged people, and told ihem I would be E on my guard against forming such a connec- 8 tion. Word now came to us that the ' stage's y ready.' We all got on board, and much to my surprise the young man also got into the * sage and sat fronting me. He now felt y more at liberty than he did at the dinner s table, and began to converse, first with the y old gentleman and then with me. The first remark he made to me was about th t ,weather. I wondered where he could be a going, and had some curiosity to know.-- There was an impression upon my mind that - nd was-bound for that impression came upon T hoped the old gentle- , here he was going, ith is, the old gen- tleman was r sable with him; but the young 1 more talkative the farther we i -r. The old lady spoke but a very lltutc. She disliked the young man more than her husband did, if that were possible. His conversation was principally directed to me, Especially after we had ridden a few miles. I endeavored to keep back as much as I could conveniently and not he too impolite. I knew very well that my old companions were not at all pleased to have me converse with him, and on that account I felt under severe' con- straint, 'I have had some rare sport angling for trout for the last few weeks,' said the young man, addressing me. I answered that I thought it was rather cruel to hook and kill' the beautiful trout.- He perfectly agreed with me, but said he could not resist the temptation however cruel it might be. 'That is too often the case with young men of the present age,' said the old gentle- man. ' They don't resist temptation; but they ought to do so when they are young, or their old age will be miserable and unhappy. Begin in season to say, "get behind me Satan," and depend upon it young man, you'll find the current of your life to flow more smoothly and pleasantly.' ' That may be so; but you know, sir, the young men do not view things through the same medium as the old do,' replied the young, man. ' True, but the question is, who sees mat- , ters in the truer light, the old or the young?' asked my old friend. 'The old have ex- - perience which is said to be the best school- tmaster. I know that when I was of your t age I committed many errors, and jir.- many i mistakes which have proved sources of much - trouble to me, and hence I see the propriety , and even necessity of warning y( men - of the great dangers that lie in tii paths. t I noticed that you took wine with your e dinner.' y I 'did, sir; but I trust you do not deem e that a sin,' answered the young man. if 'If not absolutely a sin, it is a dangerous Is practice for a young person to say the least \r of it," replied the good old gentleman.-- d ' The stomach is a wonderful organ in the y human system, and may be trained to either "good or bad habits. We must be careful "how we tamper with it, lest it gain. the id mastery over us. The time may come when your stomach will not be satisfied with wine at dinner, but cry aloud for a beverage much stronger than wine, and at other periods off the twenty hours. Thousands upon thou- sands whose bodies now lie mouldering in the drunkard's grave began their career by even the moderate use of wine. Touch not, taste not, handle not, ought to be the maxim I of all, and then the awful sin of drunkenness will be avoided. You understand me, I trust.' ' I think I do, sir,' replied the young man. ' Your doctrine may be correct; but I feel as if 1 could govern myself.' 'Govern yourself ' repeated tho sage old man. 'Govern yourself! I fear, young man, that you are not aware of the difficulty of the task. You have often heard of the fame of some great general who has led armies through oceans of blood to conquest and victory.' ' I have, sir, and what is the inference you would draw from that ' inquired the young man, smiling, and looking at me. ' The Book of Books says, he that con- quereth himse'f is greater than he who taketh a city,' replied the old counsellor. -, , an made no immediate reply; ; eyes fastened upon me, and ;what thoughtful. It was not words the old man spoke, r in which he uttered them that seemed to effect the person to whom they were addressed. The old man's face was much furrowed by the ploughshare of time; his locks were as white as snow, and hung in scattered curls over his neck and shoulders. His com- plexion was clear, and every lineament of his countenance manifested love and benevo- lence. His eyes were once a deep blue, but time had somewhat faded them; yet with- out materially diminishing their expression. He was a fine specimen of a good old age, and I can never forget him. His aged part- ner, too, was a fine looking, old lady. We all sat in silence for some minutes, and no one seemed disposed to break it. I noticed that the young man kept staring at me with his black, lustrous eyes, and seemed to be highly gratified, if not charmed with 'my looks. Now experience has taught me that no young lady can remain perfectly indif- ferent when she is conscious that a young man of-genteel appearance is in love with her. No matter how suddenly that love may spring up in his heart, if she believes it is there, her nerves will be more or less af-, fected, and she cannot remain lindifferent.- But I willnot-at this stage of my narrative attempt to give a description of the workings of my own -heart. It is true, the young man was handsome, easy in his manners, ready in conversation, and appeared to be the son of a rich man. I here confess that the latter consideration made quite an im- pression upon my heart; for I longed to be the wife of a wealthy husband, and go with him to my native village, and torment those young ladies who felt so much above me.- This was one of my most 'easily besetting sins. They might, and probably did envy my beauty' (what little It possessed,) and I envied their parents wealth, and their fine dresses. The roads grew better and the horses in- creased their speed. The weather was very pleasant and I very much enjoyed the ride. We had ridden more than a mile in silence, and at last the old man broke the silence by another quotation trom the Scriptures, ad- dressed to the young man. He said in a distinct and even musical voice. ' Look not thou upon therine when it is red, when it giveth his color in the cup, when it moveth itself aright. At the last, it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder. Yea, thou shalt be as he that lieth upon the top of a mast.' , He said no more at the moment, but gazed upon the young man as if he anxiously , desired his reformation, while the latter page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] looked as if he knew not what reply to make. I began to feel quite a strong curiosity to know how far the young man was trv- eling, where he belonged, and who were his relatives; but my mother had taught me too much politeness to ask him any questions touching such subjects. I hoped, however, the old gentleman would ask him; but he seemed more anxious for the young man's reformation than he did to learn any thing respecting his temporal affairs. At last the young man said, 'I confess, sir, that you have got the better of me in argument. We are all prone, especially in our yonnger days, to do things that will not bear a very search- ing scrutiny.' I became more interested in the young man from the fact of his listening to the old counsellor with so much respect and atten- tion. It seelned to me that the young fel- low's moral principles were not so bad after all;. And I think the old gentleman enter- tailed a more favorable opinion of him than he did at the dinner table. He and the old man conversed freely together; but their conversation was upon moral and religious -ot a word was said by either upon subject; and it seemed as if my was destined to disappointment m fore nightfall we reached Portland. gentleman and his wife left the stage coach in front of a fine looking house, b and the rest of us were hurried down to the steamboat wharf, as there was no time to lose,; ,My old friends bid me an affectionate farewei:1:[ confess I was pleased that the young iid not leave the carriage, but kept on t( ie boat. Although we had not conversed together ifor several miles back; yet his eyes were frstened upon me, and spolehe ti feelings of his heart. At least, so it seemed to me. to CHAPTER IV. ity av- Our heroine discovers many novelties. The his attention of her gallant. The Steamboat. oo The thunder shower. The efects of elec- ns tricity upon love afairs. The progress. er, 4. e I HAD never seen a steamboat, and was anxious to see one. As the carriage was ng driven down the wharf I heard a terrible The noise which at first gave my nerves a shock. )U The young man noticed that I was some- e what startled and said they were blowing off ' the steam to keep the boilers from bursting. - I knew nothing about that kind of philosophy, but his remarks quieted my nerves, and he I assisted me from the carriage. 'You are going to Boston, I suppose,' he said, as I stepped from the carriage. I told him such was my destination. He appeared to be very glad, and told me he was bound for the same city. This was the first inti- d mation I had from him that he was going to Boston. My heart rejoiced at it; and yet my mother's warnings and the old man's ad- monitions were fresh in my memory, and cautioned me to beware how [ suffered my- self to become familiar with a strange young man. But he seemed to be a sortef an acquaintance, and I felt as if I was really' among strangers. Hundreds of faces I saw, but not one I had ever seen before, and the young man was very attentive to me, and see that my trunk was safely on board the boat. The truth is, he was very kind, and seemed to be the only friend I had with me. When the wheels were put in motion and the boat moved off, I was much excited, but the young man was by my side and even offered me his arm, which in my excitement I accepted. The evening was delightful, and the ocean in the light of . full moon was the most magnificent spectacle I ever beheld. I have since been convinced that it was a most pro- pitious evening for love-making; but I must not anticipate, but let my narrative proceed according to the order of events. As we stood upon the promenade deck, first looking at the moonbeams playing upon the Ocean waves, and then at the bespangled firmament which was hung like a gorgeous curtain over our heads; we gazed towards the west, and saw a dark cloud occasionally fringed with brilliant and momentary light, bat no thunder was heard. The cloud was distant, and the wheels of the boat made such a noise that we could not have heard the rolling of the thundet even had the murky and threatening cloud been nearer to us. The lightning was very sharp, and al- most incessant, and the cloud appeared to be fast nearing our boat. We stood silent and gazed upon this beautiful pyrotechnic display of the heavens. It seemed to me I, never saw the electric fluid more vivid and frequent than on this occasion. ' Think we shall have a shower?' I asked, in a subdued tone of voice; for I was some- what alarmed at the black and threatening aspect of -he heavens. 'It may reach us,' he replied. '/But I think it will pass to the South. The cloud is very black and highly charged with rain and electricity.' ' And I fear with wind, too, for it seems to be coming up very fast,' I added, while he pressed my arm more closely to his side, and seemed really to manifest some anxiety for my safety. 'It may blow some; but our boat is very staunch and can ride out a very severe gale,' he answered. 'Your'e not afraid of thunder and lightning, are you?' I replied that I was not particularly cow- ardly, but always felt some degree of alarm on such occasions, even on the land, and how I should feel on the water in the midst E of a thunder-shower I could not tell, as I had no experience. '0, there's no more danger on the water than on the land,' he said; still pressing my arm, and placing the palm of his hand upon the back of mine.' I suffered it to remain a short time; but a moment's reflection convinced me that I ought not to. encourage his familiarity, how- ever innocent his motives might be, and withdrew my hand from under his. He did not attempt to detain it, and appeared not to notice it particularly. I told him I did not know as there was more danger on the water than on the land, unless the wind should blow violently. He assured me that the steamboat could ride out almost any gale. We now changed our position to a place from which we could more distinctly see the thunder-cloud., 'Dear me!' I said. ' How fast it comes. It will soon be over our heads At that moment a brilliant flash of lightning darted , from the cloud and shot over the water in a zigzag form, making many angles and seem- ing to rest a moment over the bosom of the waters before it went out. It was soon fol- lowed by a loud peal of thunder which was distinctly heard above all other noises .n board the boat. I remarked that that must be very heavy thund^f ^ , 'It is, indeed,' i feplied' iHow beau- tiful the lightning displayed itself.' 'More terrible than beautiful,' I added. 'Such flashes always make .o,tremble. I never before saw such a sub teIIjplay.' 'I confess it was very ygand,' he re- marled. ' But there's no danger. We are just as safe here as we should be in the stage-coach.' Another flash darted out from the edge of the cloud more vivid and terrible than the first, followed -by 'a tremendous crash of thunder. I was really alarmed and proposed page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] going below; but he prevailed upon me to remain, assuring me there was no- more danger in one place than in another. The cloud kept rising and the lightning increasing 'in splendor and frequency. Soon we felt a change of wind, and a few scattering rain drops fell upon the water. The wind in- creased and sounded mournfully to me as it swept over the ocean and through the boat. It seemed to me I never felt the wind blow more violently; but the boat kept on its course, and skimmed over the foaming bil- lows like a thing of life. The young man kept close at my side and seemed to press harder the more the storm raged. I have no doubt he sought that op- portunity to become more familiar with me. The violence of the storm absorbed all my attention, and I hardly noticed that he held my hand in his and pressed it as often as the lightnings flashed and the thunders rolled. * The wind and rain increased, and I be- came quite alarmed. The boat began to, reel and dance upon the waves; and no doubt I should have been quite seasick, if I been so much frightened. I have ondered if electricity has any con- agency in making love. And I have the question whether the human neart is more susceptible of love-impressions in a thunder-shower ttainwat any other time. My readers may discuss that question at their leisure, for I cannot dwell upon it at this stage of my narrative. The wind now mad. a dreadful sweep over tl'steaiboat and shrieked mournfully amidst the iron rods or chains that sustained ( the smoke-pipes, accompanied by brilliant and incessant flashes of lightning, loud peals of thunder and floods of rain. It seemed to me that we must all go to the bottom of the sea and become food for the sharks and other voracious monsters ot the great deep. Being so much alarmed I unconsciously 3 clung to the young man for a support, and e found myself soon after in his arms. Im. 3 mediately I roused up and disengaged myself , from his- embrace. He seemed perfectly t willing to protect me, and did all he could to guard me against the violence of the - storm. t The wind began to abate, and we could see some clear sky at the west between the cloud and the horizon. The rain also ceased in a good degree, and the lightnings now came from the other edge of the cloud. Much time did not elapse before the silver moon made her appearance, looking more bright and beautiful from her transient ob- scurity. Her beams again played upon the waters whose recently lashed billows began to fall away into peace and quietness, and the bosom of the ocean to assu paratively smooth surface. My fright was over, and the m 'ters looked more beautiful than tl fore the shower. My gallant v ,ingly attentive; but since I have to believe that he wished the store tinued much longer than it did; very fond of protecting me and , nerves. After the shower had passed beautiful moon and the bright sta. peared in the heavens, my companion tioned me in a very polite and even cun- ning manner, about my family relations and the objects I had in view in visiting the Metropolis of New England. I frankly told him all, and kept nothing back. I began to feel interested in him and cherished a desire to question him in relation to his situation and circumstances; but I was cau- tious, if not diffident. He seemed to have an instinctive impression that I cherished such a desire; for after I had told him the simple story of my life, he remarked that he ought to be as frank and as communicative as I had been. I told him he must act his own pleasure. ' My pleasure is, he continued, 'to give you as much information about myself as you have given me in relation to yourself. I am the only son of a merchant of Boston who has retired from mercantile pursuits and lives upon the income of his estates. I do not wish to boast of my father's wealth.' 'I shall not consider such a relation as boasting,' I replied; feeling quite anxious for him to continue his story. He continued--'I generally go down to Maine, once and sometimes twice a year to see to a large tract of wild land which my father owns in the town where I took the stage-coach for Portland. I always take my fishing-rod with me and enjoy the sport of angling of'which I am very fond. My father has wealth enough; but he yet very keenly fuels the loss of my mother, who died about I have but one sister, who younger than I am.' she is a very beautiful and ac? rung lady,' I said. ,' he replied; while the light revealed a pleasant smile on his ;o imagine that you have the ne beautiful girl in your heart, cpect to wed ere long,' I added, feeling a strange interest in the .,... night give to my uestion. I hope my female readers will pardon me for cherishing- such an interest on so short an acquaintance with this young man, but 1 did feel it, and thus frankly confess it. '0, no,' he replied, smiling, and playing with one of the ringlets of my hair upon which the moonbeams were shining and adding new lustre to it. ;I have never seen the girl whom I am willing to make my wife, unless the beams of yonder bright moon now reveals her lo my eyes.' 'Pardon me,' I quickly added,' if I pro- npunce that flattery.' I; ' * 'You have my pardon; but I did not in- tend it as flattery,' he answered; seizing my hand, and pressing it to his lips. I suddenly withdrew my hand, and told him not only his words but his acts spoke of flattery. 'Excuse me,' he said, ' I intend no wrong, but I feel a deeper interest in you than I have ever felt in any young lady before.' The evening was now far advanced, and after some conversation, we separated for the night. I went to the ladies' cabin and got into my berth; but my mind was dis- quieted, and it was a long time before sleep came to my relief. I had not yet learned his name; but I dreamed of him, of his father's wealth and of being married. But I will not relate dreams, for there are real incidents in my life which are enough to fill a volume without having recourse to the wild vagaries of a sleeping mind, CHAPTER V. A delightful morning upon the ocean.- Oceanic scenery. A new character. Wie temptations of the heroine. The cunning of an old libertine, 4rc. THE morning dawned bright and beauti- ful, and I arose at an early hour that I might see the ocean and the land, if any was within the range of my vision. During the night the boat had been delayed on her passage by the breaking of some'portion of the machinery connected with the engine, but it had been repaired, and the boat was now skimming over the smooth bright waters like a big wa- ter fowl. Not a breath of air disturbed the smooth surface of the sea, and all the objects in sight greatly interested me. I began to feel as if I wished I had been a y6ung man and could follow the sea, so fascinating was the ocean and its scenery. page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] I went to the same spot where I was the evening previous during the thunder shower and gazed upon the bright expanse of wates and the green islands and distant shore. The sun rose, and it seemed to me that it arose out of the ' deep, deep sea.' I never before beheld such a beautiful and magnifi- cent sun-rise. The king of day, too, looked like a large ball of fire coming up from the depths of the ocean, and it seemed to me that his bright beams must have been extin- guished in a bed so wet; but his face was as bright and beautiful as when I had seen it coming up from the hills of Maine. I saw several fishes or other creatures disporting themselves in the calm waters. O, how I wished my good mother could have been with me to enjoy such glorious sights!- And excuse me, dear reader, when I say I wished the son of the rich merchant would c rise from his couch and talk of the beautiful scenery that every where met ny astonished p eyes. I felt as if such sights would give me h more pleasure, if I could but enjoy them ,;,ih some friend or acquaintance. I was a ger in a strange vessel, and but one n )n on board whom I knew, and with to I had but a slight acquaintance, I t d the aged couple were with me that hi I might hear their remarks upon the ocean and its sublime and interesting scenes. I thought of the proud and haughty girls of my native village, and my return home at some future day with a rich husband. A thousand thoughts crowded upon my mind, and my nerves were much excited, but I was not destined to remain long alone; for an elderly, well-dressed gentleman came along, walking backward and forward, and occa- m sionally bestowing a glance upon me. He h was a fine looking man, and seemed to feel as if he would like to address me; at least, so he seemed to me. I did not know but wa my vanity gave such thoughts; but I soon found, however, that my conjectures were right. sp( the After passing me several times, and oc- ver, casionally fixing his eyes upon me, he came ers up ard said, 'A very beautiful morning we have. I have never seen the Atlantic lat dressed in more gorgeous robes, and I have ver sailed many thousands of miles on the oceans fi- of different parts of the globe.' h I remarked to him that I had fiever seen the ocean before, and never a larger collec- n tion of water than some of the small lakes of my native State. it 'Indeed!' he added. 'You have chosen w a fine time for your first trip. True, we had a violent thunder storm last evening, but I that only added sublimity to the scene.' n 'It seemed to me it was the grandest I ever witnessed,' I answered I 'Such storms always appear more sublime d on the water than on the land,' he added, 'I think I noticed you last evening in comr d pany with a young man; your brother, per- e haps, or it may be your husband.' '0, no, sir,' I replied, smiling. 'The 1 young gentleman is a stranger to me. I never saw him before yesteryv. We rode i together in a stage coach, and he very kindly took care of my trunk. I don't even know his name.' 'Indeed!' he said. ' Then you are jour. neying alone to the city! I suppose you have some relatives or friends there whom you are going to visit.' 'I have not,' I answered. 'There's to) living person in Boston whom I know. I am going to seek employment.' He remained silent and thoughtful a few moments, and seemed somewhat surprised that I should be thus alone. I knew from the expression of his countenance that he was surprised, {or that some other feeling was at work in his heart. At last he spoke. 'Going to seek employment,' he repeated, after quite a long pause. ' And what, may'I ask, do you propose to do?' "earn dressmaking,' I replied. 'I have now some knowledge of the trade; but wish to learn it better so that I can work and earn money.' 'There are a great many dressmakers in the city,' he said, looking as if he thought I had better engage in some other employ- ment. 'I suppose,' I replied. ' There may be room for me, especially if I excel in, the business.' '0, yes,' he added. 'You may do well; but there are other situations that might be more agreeable to you. How should you like to get' married to a man who has mo- ney enough to support you like a lady.?' He smiled, chucked me under the chin, and acted as though he was quite a young man. I also smiled, and he seemed to be very much pleased. 1 told him I was not old enough to think of marriage. 'Sufficieutly old,' he replied. ' I should never want a wife older than you are.' 'I suppose you have one much older,' I said, smiling, and feeling as if he was a jolly old man, and excellent company. 'Indeed I have none at all,' he replied. 'But I assure you I have recently been thinking of hunting up one.' 'You can find enough of them either in the city or country,' I said. 'rTrue, there are women enough; but then I must have one who fits my eye. I have traveled over all the world and have never yet seen one whom I should be will- ing to wed. This may seem strange to you, but such is the fact. Old bachelors are generally called very particular, and so far as. I am concerned, I frankly acknowledge the charge; I am particular, especially. in the choice of a partner for life.' 'You are so nice in your notions, and so exacting in your demands, I fear you will never find a woman who will suit you,' I answered. 'I don't see but you must al- ways remain in single blessedness.' 'I have indulged the same fears,' he an- swered, gently tossing on his fore-finger one of the curls of my hair, and smiling most graciously. He was a fine-looking, portly'man. His face was smooth and pleasant, and he seemed to possess much good humor. I was pleased with him, and never once dreamed that he was actuated by vicious motives. His age prevented me from harboring any suspicions against his character. The young man who had made my acquaintance the day previous had not that redeeming quality. Although I was pleased with him, yet I entertained some suspicions of his motives. 'I think you have reason to indulge in such fears,' I answered, smiling. 'Perhaps I have,' he replied, taking my' hand in his, and gently pressing it. ' But I frankly confess I have never seen a girl whose expression of countenance pleases one so much as yours. It seems as if 1 had been long acquainted with you, and I suppose the reason is, because you approach so near the image of a woman my fancy has formed in my heart. Men will always love some- thing in the form of a woman, whether that form be an imaginary or a mal one. A thousand times I have imagined what kind of a looking girl I should be willing to make my wife, but never have seen one, unless my eyes now behold her. The more I look 'at you the more I am convinced that you more resemble my fancy-formed idol than any other girl I have ever seen.' During these remarks he held and pressed my hand, smiled sweetly, appeared honest- and sincere; so much so, that I could not suspect him of any bad motives at the time. He was a gentleman who had lived more than a half a century, and yet he did not page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] look old in many respects. His hair and whiskers were; somewhat silvered by age; yet there were no wrinkles in his face, his form was symmetrical, and his motions easy and graceful. 'I hope, 'sir, you are no flatterer,' I re- marked, gently withdrawing my hand from his warm grasp. 'My age' must protect me from such a charge, he added. 'If a young man had said as much, perhaps, you would have been justified in being suspicious of him; but you ought not to charge me with flattery, for I plead not guilty to such a charge. I assure you that your face, form, tone of voice, manners, motions, every thing in fact, im- press my heart with a deep interest for you, and I ask the privilege of a further ac- quaintance. Will you permit me to con- duct you to a boarding house when we ar- rive in the city. The boat will reach the wharf in the course of three hours. I know of a boarding house kept by a very respecta- ble lady of my acquaintance who will treat you very kindly. She is an excellent woman, and will assist you in getting employment, if you should desire it. She is well ac- quainted with many of the most respectable and fashionable dress-makers in the city.- But after all I may give you a better home than any other you can find in Boston. I have a splendid house, very handsomely fur- nished, and if the impressions continue which your person has made upon my heart I will wed you and make you the mistress of my establishment.' I told him the young man whom he saw with me last evening had made me promise to accompany him to a boarding house he had selected, and that I supposed I was un- der obligations to him. A change came over the expression of his countenance, and he seemed' really to be very much disap- pointed. He looked so sorrowful that I felt my sympthies drawn out in his behalf, and regretted I had made any promises to the young man. It seemed to me that my beauty was never so highly appreciated before; and I began to fancy that I did really look better and- possessed more personal charms than I had ever dreamed of. Even before I had reached the city I had two lovers, both of whom were apparently rich, and could give me a splendid home. Under such circum- stances it is not strange that I was some- what bewildered, and hardly knew what course to pursue. After a short pause, he broke the silence. 'Heaven forbid that I should injure the character or reputation of any person,' he said, in a tone of voice full of sympathy and kindness. 'But the duty I owe myself and you, compels me '" -^^ ;^ tnl norainst the young men of th are very corrupt and not say any thing. a whose acquaintance entreat you to be c the addresses of yc may yet prove you I thanked him f( tested in my beht would be on my hand, and would L1... operation upon my lips, if some persons had not been a short distance from us who were looking at us. The man seemed to be really in love with me, and I frankly acknowledge I could not feel indifferent.- I do not say that I reciprocated his appa- rent love and affection. Yet, he seemed to be a friend in whom I might repose the greatest confidence. 'Then you feel as if you ought to go to the boarding house the young man has se- lected?' he asked, manifesting considerable anxiety. ' I suppose I ought to do so,' I replied.- He has been very kind to me, and has my promise which I dare not break.' 'Very well, but be cautious how you make him any more promises until we have had another interview,' he said. He then took out his pencil and wrote on a blank card the name of Capt. William Dunmore. Handing me the card he had written upon, he continued. 'There's 'my name, and I wish you would drop a letter into the post office directed to me after you arrive in the city, informing me where I-can find you. Keep the whole matter a secret from the young man, and look sharp about the house to which he may conduct you. He may be actuated by honorable motives; nevertheless, it is well for you to be on the lookout. I have a large amount of money, and if my feelings do not change I am willing to share it all with you. I now feel as if your society would make me happy through life. Don't forget to write me as soon as to-morrow, for I shall be exceedingly anxious to have an inter- view with you.' I assured him I would write according to his request. He then endeavored to prevail upon me to discard the young man and take him as my guide after we reached the city; but I declined, and yet felt almost willing to do so; for his conversation had a charm in it which I have not the power to describe. His love, sudden as it was, appeared much deeper and stronger than that of the young man. The love of both was of a very sud- den growth; but I was inexperienced and fully resolved to have a rich man for a hus- band. Although my mother had warned me to be cautious how ;I permitted men to address me in the character of lovers; yet she was anxious that I should marry a rich man, and hesitated not to express such an opinion. She had felt the evils and incon- veniences of poverty, and therefore did not wish me to be' placed in such embarrassing circumstances. The gentleman hung round me ana' was loth topart company. He was as pleasant as the lovely morning, and seemed to pos- sess some excellent moral principles. While he was thus conversing with me, the young man had arisen and made his appearance in the saloon where I was. My elder com- panion cautioned me to' keep all a secret, and carelessly walked away. CHAPTER VI. The rival lovers. The spirit of jealousy.- Birds of passage. The breakfast. The heroine between two fires. Progress of the voyage. The approach to the wharf, Sc. As the young man approached me I saw much anxiety depicted upon his countenance, and was satisfied that seeing the elderly gentleman conversing with me had aroused the spirit of jealousy in his heart. That circumstance furnished evidence to my un- sophisticated mind that he loved me; and yet I could not help believing that Captain Dunmore's affection was the stronger and more sincere. He approached me arid cordially shook my hand, and 'somewhat nervously pressed it. It seemed to me that both young and elderly gentlemen had quite a habit of squeezing my hand and playing with the ringlets of my hair. .I had never before witnessed such performances, and did not know but it might be one of the charac- teristics of fashionable society. The young blacksmith was never prone to such prac- tices, and I very sagely concluded that it was because he moved in the humble walks of life. After a few inquiries after my health, page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] and how I rested during the night, he said. 'It is but right that I should give you my name.' He then handed me a beautiful glossy card with the name Carolus Cunard printed upon it. As an offset, I gave him my name, with which he appeared to be highly pleased. "Louise Martin!' he repeated, smiling. "Louise Martin! a beautiful name. I have always understood that Martins are birds of passage, and now I have proof of it.' 'Yes,' I replied. But at this season of the year those birds usually migrate to the North, while I am taking a flight to the South.' ' True, he answered, laughing; ' but never mind. I hope and trust, you will find the change a pleasant one. By the way, what old man was that conversing with you a few moments ogo?' 'You don't call him an old man, do you?, I asked smiling. 'I thought his hair and whiskers looked as gray as a badger,' Ihe added. 'True, but then I should not judge him over fifty, and surely you do not call that ge.' e was more than sixty, else my eyes ved me,' he replied. ' Depend upon it, nan is even older than he appears to be. But who is he? I noticed him last evening, and confess I did n6t like his looks. There was an expression in his eyes that looked evil' 'Indeed I know not who he is from Adam,' I replied. ' But I confess I did not discover any thing very evil in the expression of his eyes. They are of a blue color, and not very dark and piercing. For my part I thought he was, rather pleasant-looking than 1 otherwise.' f 'Wel, there's no diputing about matters I of taste,' he said, manifesting a little impa- \ tience. 'What did he say?' ! , / i. O, he spoke of the beauty of -b' but y before I could finish the sentence, he inter- rupted rme, and said, with considerable earn- d estness. 'There, just as I expected-the n old libertine! He began to praise your h beauty about the first thing, he said!' '0, no, not my beauty, but the beauty of this lovely morning,' I replied, smiling at his jealous spirit. f ' The beauty of the morning!' he re- peated. 'Well, I confess that alters the f case very materially.' i ' It does, indeed, I r replied 'Such beauty is worthy of remark, while mine is scarcely worth thinking of. I think the gentleman showed his good sense in speaking of this glorious morning instead of bestowing any rema '- ,l with cons spol wor city pie; hin wi at all, Ullt:;3o j I asked him what employments they were engaged in; but at first he hesitated to an- swer my question. At last, however, he said. ' I believe they are sewing-girls, but I'm not certain, as I have no acquaintance with them.' 'Are any of them dress-makers?' I ased, hoping that they were) that I might make some inquiries about the business I was in- tending to follow. 'Indeed, I cannot answer that question,' he replied. 'But you may depend upon finding it a very pleasant boarding place. I have been long acquainted with the lady who keeps it She once lived at my father's house and superintended our domestic affairs while my mother was sick. Thinking she could make more money in keeping a house for boarders, she concluded to engage in that employment, and has succeeded very well indeed.' I was thankful that I had found a friend to guide me in a strange city. When I started from home, I thought a good deal of how I should pass the first night in Boston. My mother told me I had better find a boarding house, if I could, and not stop it a public hotel; and now all that anticipated difficulty seemed to be obviated. He was exceedingly attentive and had not apparently lost any of that tone which he seemed to have for me the evening previous. The truth is, he seemed more loving than ever, and mani- fested more attachment to me than the hand- some Captain did a short time before. The breakfast bell now rang, and he invited me to take- breakfast. I took his arm and was conducted to the cabin. It sohappened that Captain Dunmore took a seat directly oppo- site to us. That circumstance I very much regretted; for it placed me in an unplesant situation, as it were between two fires.. Yung Cunard was exceedingly polite and attentive, which greatly annoyed Captain Dunmore, opposite. I could see the glances he cast upon me and the frowns that dark- ened his brow when he turned his eyes upon my young handsome, and attentive gallant. Many eyes, I noticed were upon me, for the table was well lined, with passengers. My bright hair hung in ringlets over my neck and shoulders, and' I felt the red blood rushing to my face. Whether that circum- stance added to my beauty or not, is more than I know; but one thing was certain, I should have felt more happy if my blood had kept more closely withirf my veins and arteries. My position was more unpleasant than any I had found since I left the parental roof. There was a declared lover before me, and one at my side, and both of them possessing wealth and rank as I had reason to believe. I appeal to any one of my sex, and ask her if she would not have felt much embarrassed under the same pressure of cir- cumstances in which-I was placed? I was not naturally diffident, so far from it, that some might have called me bold; and yet I think I not only prized, but practiced the virtue, modesty, as much as most, young ladies of my age. But I really felt em- barrassed and could hardly act myself.- Capt. Dunmore often gazed upon me, and once smiled, which Carolus noticed with ap- parent regret, if not with a more harrassing emotion. My professed lovers also occasionally gazed upon each other, and when their eyes tnet, frowns were sure to cloud and darken their brows. Here were two gentlemen, per- feet strangers, and yet it was evident they hated each other! And I was the innocent cause of that ill-natured feeling between them. Duling-the time occupied in partaking of our morning meal, I was really unhappy, more so than I had been since I started on my journey.' I began to debate seriously in my own mind, which of the -two I should prefer for a husband; for be it known to the reader, that I fancied myself into the belief that I could have either of them. Both were handsome men, and possessed oqf wealth; but one was nearly twice as old as the other. There was a charm about the Captain which the young man did not possess; but that charm I have no language to describe. I knew, or at least had reason to believe, that my older lover was in possession of, and hbd full control over his wealth, while. the younger must abide his time, and be patient until his father's death before he would dome into possession of his property. Carolus was good-looking, pleasant, and agreeable in 'his manners; but some how or other, I had page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] not so much confidence in his love as I had in Captain Dunmore's; besides, I reasoned myself into the belief that the young man might see a new face which would please him more than mine did; but I had no such fears of the Captain. He had lived many years and now for the first time felt the magic power of love, if his own declara- tions were to be believed. I felt justified in coming to the conclusion that he would not be so likely to change his mind as the young man might; and yet I wished he had not seen so many winters. One possessed a house already splendidly furnished, while the other was dependent upon his father for all he would need in a state of marriage.- And the Captain seemed to be more fond of me than Carolus. The truth is, I felt as if the elder lover was more td be depended on. I could cling to him, and he would support and protect me, while the other might give me the slip.-. But after all, the Captain's age was a source of much trouble to me. The idea of be- coming the wife of a man who was old enough to be my father was very disa- ble, and yet his very age gave me con- ace in him. ly reflections were so strange and so are that my appetite for breakfast was ,y far from being sharp, as it probably would have been under other circumstances. My kind and attentive gallant urged me to partake of several viands, for which I had no a appetite.; but to please him, I nibbled a little of every thing he presented me. It seemed to me that we sat at the table much longer s than was necessary. I longed to rise and t go on deck, but said nothing. Y The Captain still kept gazing upon his se rival. I could very easily see that Carolus was quite as much disturbed as the Captain p] was; yet he strove to appear quiet, and assumed quite an air of independence and dc even hauteur. Glad was I when we arose hi , * H ad from the table and repaired to the saloon. ed upon deck. We left the Captain at the in table. se 'I don't know how you may feel, but I ,h confess, the more I see of that man, the more iy I dislike him,' said Carolus. 'He looks dag- ie gers at me, but why he should thus frown is a- more than I can tell. I have never injured n him, and have no desire to cultivate his ac- )t quaintance. My opinion is, that he is a g wicked man. His whole manner and looks )t show it.' a Perhaps you are too much governed by e your prejudices,' remarked. ' Last evening ,r you did not discover in him so many evi- - dences of guilt as you now do.' f' II had no occasion to notice him last evening,' he replied.. r 'And whr -,-- ... .. .... , , ? notice him? ' , question drov immediate a . knowledged Captain con have entertai now seated r side, somewl his flattering most and apl his love for .... '1 can never be happy to live without you in this world,' he said. 'Wealth, honor, and distinction are all nothing without your society.' ' I fear your emotions come upon you too suddenly, and they appear to be too'violent to last long,' I added. 'In a few weeks you may change your mind. (Young men see too many new faces to love one long.' 'I never shall change my mind!' he re- plied. ' You are the idol of my soul' ' And yet your worship may be of short duration,' I added, smiling in my skleve at his apparent great earnestness and zeal. I used to read in my school-book when I was a little girl, " hot love is soon cold." I really fear that you will soon become sick of me, and wonder how you come to have such feelings.' 'Never! never!' he emphatically replied, and in a tone of voice that carried convic- tion to my soul that he was sincere; and yet I felt as if it were quite possible that his feelings might undergo a change. He was yet a young man, and apparently had a very susceptible heart. ' Your love has been so' sudden, and ap- pears so violent that another face better looking than mine may awaken new feelings in your heart, and utterly drive my image from your memory,' I said. ' I never shall see another face I love to gaze upon so well as 1 do upon yours,' he replied, seizing my hand and covering it with kisses. t hatmnoment Captain Dunmore entered the aloon, and saw him in the act of almost eating up my hand. The Captain's face gathered dark clouds, and he looked as if he would like to throw "the young man over- board into the depths of the sea. "'-iVhen I saw him I withdrew my hand from my ardent lover's lips, and gently rebuked him for taking such liberties. The Captain promenaded back and forth, and seemed to be absorbed in his own thoughts. The young man was highly provoked at this intrusion of the Captain; but he said nothing to him, and continued his conversa- tion withme; changing, however, the sub- ject, and talking loud enough for his rival to hear him. 'In less than an hour we shall reach the city,' he said. ' Saving the thunder shower, we have had delightful weather for our passage.' I' assented to all he said, but did not feel much disposed to conversation. I sincerely regretted that the Captain had seen Carolus. kissing my hand; and yet he had been guilty of the same performance His presence awed me, and I felt re- buked as a daughter might be in the pres- ence of her father under similar circum- stances. The Captain continued his walking, and occasionally cast a glance at us, and a very significant one, too. He was anxious for the young man th leave me that he might have a brief interview with me; but Carolus was not to be caught in that trap. He did not leave ine for a moment, and the Cap- tain's ardent desire could not be gratified.- ,We remained in the saloon until many more passengers came in, when we went below. The boat was now nearing the wharf, and the city appeared glorious to me in the rays of the morning sun. I was highly excited, and on several accounts, I felt as if I should like to exchange a few words with the Cap- tain before we landed; but my young and ardent lover gave me no such opportunity.- The boat came up to the whart which was covered with people, and hackmen were loud in praises of several city hotels. It was a scene I shall never forget. All was bustle and confusion. We were in a great and apparently excited crowd. I could hardly tell what my thoughts were on the occa- sion. But my young lover was close at my side. CHAPTER VII. New scenesfor the heroine. The landing. The crowd. The elder lover watches all the movements of the younger. The board- ing house, and its Mistress, T4c. 'A CARRIAGE, sir,' a score of voices cried, as my young gallant conducted me from the; page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] boat upon the wharf. I was almost fright. ened at seeing such a crowdI of persons of all descriptions. I had never seen any thing like it; but Carolus pressed through the crowd, dragging me after him, and hurrying along as fast as circumstances would permit. At last I was safely seated in a carriage, and my lover went back to look after my trunk and his own luggage. While he was absent Captain Dunmore came up to the door of the carriage, seized my hand, pressed it, and looked exceedingly anxious. 'May heaven protect you, my dear,' he said. ' Be sure to drop me a line, and be- ware of that young man. Suffer him not even to kiss your hand. There's poison on his lips.' He immediately left the carriage and be- spoke another. I saw him enter one, but it remained. But before he entered I saw him talking anxiously with the driver. At once I mistrusted that he intended to follow and mark the house where I stopped. My sus- picions were correct; for when our luggage was fastened upon the carriage and we were driven off, I saw the same carriage the Cap- tain entered follow us; but I mentioned not he circumstance to my gallant. I was glad he Captain had taken such a course, for I lesired he should know the house at which ! stopped. He was too old a bird to e a caught with chaff, and did not entirely de- pend upon the letter which I promised to write for information. He wished to see Y with his own eyes. 'I'm glad we have got out of that crowd, a said. my lover. a 'You cannot be more rejoiced than I am,' b was my reply. 'I never witnessed such con- I fusion in my life.' t 'It is always so when the steamboats ar- p rive,' he answered, Now we shall be at in your boarding house. I rejoice that it so su happened that I have the pleasure of protect- a ihg you here among strangers.' a It- ' It is a fortunate circumstance, for I hardly of knew what II should have done without your ig assistance,' I replied. ie Perhaps that old man would have given g you his aid,' he answered. t. I told him the gentleman might have done d so, but that I was satisfied as it was. He k appeared to be rejoiced at my remark, and t attempted to place his arm about my waist, f but I suffered him to take no such liberties. t, He was not very well pleased with my re- sistance to his wishes, but he made no com- plaint in words. We rode on, turning sev- eral corners and passing through what ap- t peared to me to be a wilderness of houses. The carriage which the Captain occupied was close behind us, but Carolus knew nothing about that; if he had he would un- doubtedly hai to a public house to' wh . time 1 suppose At last we . looking house ..- . me from the c luggage, and . , . into the house . driven past, I ; When I entere attired females scamper up stairs, while the woman received us very politely. She was a large, fat woman apparently about fifty. years of age. Her face was 'round and red, and full of smiles. She was evidently well- acquainted with my lover, and greeted him cordially. I was 'politely introduced to her by Carolus. Her name was called Mrs. Topway, or rather the widow Topway. I thought the name was an odd one, but I ex- pected to hear many odd names pronounced in so large a city, and the fact did not much surprise me at the time. I was glad to find a resting place; for I was greatly fatigued, and needed some repose. 'I suppose, Mrs. Topway, you have room for another boarder,' said Carolus. '0, yes, I have a very nice room, unoccu- pied,' she replied, 'I can accommodate your friend.' 'I am very glad of it, for I did not know but your house might be full,' he said. 'It was full a few days ago, but some of my boarders have gone into the country,' she answered. 'Please walk into the parlor.' 'We did so, and I was seated on an ele- gant sofa. The house was more splendidly furnished than any one I had ever seen be- fore, and began to fear the price of my board in such an establishment would exceed the limitsof my purse. It looked to me like a palace, and the keeper had the appearance of a queen. She was elegantly dressed, and did not seem to me likesa poor woman whose poverty drove her to keep a boarding house for a living; but I reasoned myself into the belief that every body dressed richly in the city, and therefore, my surprise was not so great as it otherwise might have been. The woman made herself very agreeable, and was very kind. I had not been long seated in the parlor be6&re the young man and the widow Top- way went out, and I heard them talking in another room in a low voice, but could not hear what they said. They were not absent but a few minutes. When Carolus came in he told me that the widow wotld be resona- ble in her charges. I was glad to hear that, for mother had told me 1 must -get boarded as cheap as possible, and appear respectable. 'There Miss Martin, I have been as good as my word' he said. ' I have brought you I to an excellent boarding place where I trust you will be happy for the present. I must now leave you, but will call again this even- ing and see how you get along.' I thanked him heartily for his kindness and attention. We shook hands and he took his leave. The widow sat upon the 4 /l 9JLa h o i sofa with me, and asked several questions concerning my life, and what I expected to do. I frankly told her all, and kept nothing back. She now called a negro servant, whose nanre was Jim, and ordered him to take my trunk to the room I was to oc- cupy. Soon the widow conducted me to my room which was very richly furnished. It was a front room and quite spacious. I was aston- ished when I was introduced into such an apartment. I could hardly believe my own eyes that I was to occupy such a room.- The windows and bed were handsomely curtained, a marble:topped bureau, with a large mirror, upon it, stood in front between the windows, and other articles of furniture corresponded with it. 'Think this room will suit you?' she asked, smiling very graciously. 'O, madam, I fear the room will suit me better than the price,' I replied. 'I'm not able to occupy such an apartment.' '1 shall let you have it very cheap, for I. have a great respect for Mr. Cunard,' she re- plied. 'I once lived with his father. It 'is an excellent family, and they are very wealthy. And this young man is the best person in the world.' 'But that is no reason why you should board me cheaper than you would any other person,' I replied. 'Ah, my good girl, she added, smiling. 'I judge from what the young man told me that he intends to make you his wife. Should that event take place, I shall loge nothing by Boarding you cheap, or even for nothing, for he and his father, too, are very generous, and would'make me valuable presents. 1 hope you will not borrow any trouble on my account.' 'I have not thought of being married,' I replied. I came to the city to learn a dressmaker's trade' , 1, page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] 'A dressmaker's trade!' repeated the wo- man. 'Carolus Cunard will never consent to a girl's learning such a trade whom he intends to marry. You may as well give up that idea first as last. All the dresses you will ever make won't cover much nakedness Im thinking. No, no, my dear; your lover will never consent to that. Instead of manufacturing dresses for others, the most fashionable dressmakers in the city will be employed for you; in making your bridal dress. I consider you a very fortunate young lady in winning the heart of such a young man as Carolus Cunard. There's not a girl in the city who would not jump at the chance of having him for a husband. He's an only son, and his father is im- mensely rich. He has oceans of money.- I'm glad he has at last found a girl whom he loves; for he will be very much the happier for it. Such a good-hearted young man, and so rich as he is, ought to have a wife. You are a stranger to me, but I hope you will not deem me a flatterer when I say I think he has shown his good taste in the choice he has made.' 'I'm a poor country girl, and ought not to think of forming a connection so much above my rank and condition in life,' I re- plie PNever mind that,' she replied. 'You have personal beauty enough to sustain you in the very highest ranks of fashionable society. Beauty is every thing here, and you will outshine any of the city ladies.' 'I confess, you lay on the battery quite thick,' I replied; beginning to think my beauty was brought to a good market. This woman appeared so kind, and spoke so pleasantly, that I was inclined to believe all she said. There was an apparent sincerity in her tone of voice and manner; and I felt as if I should be doing her injustice if I doubted her honesty. She insisted upon it, that my beauty was far above almost any s other lady's in the city. I confess I was possessed of some personal vanity, and also ; listened to her flattering tales with pleasure. She did not remain long, but soon left me to my own reflections CHAPTER VIIL, Our heroine's trouble to make a choice of her lovers. Making a toilette. Reflec- tions on city life. The contrast, 4sc. HiERte I was in a splendidly furnished room; but no articles in my wardrobe cor- responded with it. I began to feel ashamed of my dresses. I had one blue silk dress, which my mother made' from her wedding gown. It was an excellent fabric, but then it was not made in the fashion, and if it had been, I had nothing i If I had the money expended quite a sur had but a small sum, duty to reserve to paj got in a situation to e The widow Topwa; my philosophy and be Before I saw her,. anm ...... stories about young Cunard, I had almost come to the conclusion to throw myself upon the love and protection of Captain Dunmore, but now I did not know what to do. [ had promised to write him; but that did not seem necessary since he knew the house where I boarded. I reclined upon the tied and endeavored to calm my nerves with a little sleep; but no slumber came to my eyelids. I was restless and uneasy, and thought of what my mother would say if she could see me lying upon such a bed under such splendid curtains. The widow had almost driven the idea 6f dressmaking rom my mind. Finally I came to the conclu- sion, after long and even painful reflection, that I would marry either young Cunard or Captain Dunmore. At this time I inclined to accept the offer of the former. His age was more suitable, and the widow had given him a fine character; but after all, I could scarcely indulge the thought of giving up the pleasant, smiling Captain. There was some- thing about him to which my heart clung, something which I did not discover in young Cunard. True, the latter appeared like a genuine lover, but the former seemed not only like a true lover, but also a protector. I felt as if he was a pillar I could safely lean against and be supported. O, how I longed for mother's advice in this emergency. I thought if she could see them both I would willingly take the one she might select. 'I concluded to write to her soon, and acquaint her with the character and ages of my two lovers, and request her opinion. While I lay upon the bed and such thoughts rapidly coursing through my mind, 1 heard the laughing and giggling of girls in a room over my head. They appeared to be in high glee; but I could not distinctly hear any thing they said. I listened attentively, but heard nothing but loud laughing. Once "T- .o&ight i U'Ieard an oath; but finally con- cluded I must be mistaken. I was unwilling to believe that young ladies, would swear, and y et I did not know but it might be more "o unable in the city than in the country ?for -females to use such language. The laughing continued for some time, and at last heard them leave the room and go down stairs. I was glad to get rid of the disturbance, for I did not feel like laughing, or hearing any thing like giddy mirth. My reflections were serious and sober. I was in a strange city and among strangers. Some- times I imagined that both my lovers might prove false; for I had often heard of false- hearted lovers. Mother had cautioned me to beware of them, and the old gentleman and lady who rode with me in the stage- 1 coach the day previous had given me much advice which wasfresh in my memory; and yet I would not believe that Cunard or the Captain were false-hearted until I had some proof of their deception. I never knew much about love affairs. True, like other young girls; I had often thought of such matters, but had no well-settled opinions upon the subject. It seemed somewhat strange to me that two gentlemen should fall in love with me so suddenly, and especially when there was such a disparity in their ages; but I was romantic enough to believe that love knew no age or condition, but would go wherever it was sent. The Captain's talk upon love was more pleasing to me than Cunard's, for he seemed to go deeper into the subject, and to ex- plain it more satisfactorily, He appeared calm and philosophical, and yet warm and ardent His seemed to be a love upon which I could rely, whereas Cunard was more en- thusiastic, and apparently less to be trusted. I viewed the subject in all its phases, and catechised my own heart according to all the knowledge and light afforded me. I asked myself the question which of the two I loved the most; but that question I could not answer. I had serious doubts whether I really loved either, but imagined I could love them. I wondered within myself if men were more apt to fall suddenly in love than women. From the -last few hour's ob- servation and experience, I came to the con- clusion that the gentlemen were more sus- ceptible than the ladies. Never before had I reflected so seriously upon the affairs of the human heart. :i now studied then as one would a book; but the more I studied the more bewildered was: my mind; I was really perplexed with my theme. Dressmaking hardly occurred to me, page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] for I had mounted into a region far above that, and the higher I ascended the more giddy I became. The all-absorbing question with me was to marry a man of wealth, and go with him to my native village and excite the envy of those girls who had always treated me with scorn and contempt. If I could do that I thought I should be happy. It was strange that I suffered such matters to occupy so much of my mind; but they had for some few years, and I could not rid myself of them. I remained upon the bed nearly an hour, but had found no rest. I seriously reflected upon my condition. A great change had taken place in my cir- cumstances. A few days ago I left my humble home, and my dear mother, and now am in an elegantly furnished room, with nothing to do, and a negro to wait upon me. However flattering such a change might be to my pride and ambition, it did not exactly meet the approval of my con- science. I could not make it seem. right to become all at once such a lady. As yet I had seen nothing of city life, and could not whether I should like it or not. I arose n my mahogany chair covered with hair- th, and looked, at the reflection of my Don in the mirror; but I could not per- w ve that, coming to the city had improved my beauty; and wondered how it had made such impressions on two wealthy gentlemen. Tears came into my eyes. CHAPTER IX. The first dinner. The mistress makes some good impressions upon the heroine. A new character. Mystery, doubt, and mis- giving, 4-c. THE negro servant came and called me to dinner. I went down and was much sur- prised to find myself seated at a private table with the mistress of the establishment, when e. I expected to see a public table and a large number of boarders of both sexes. The s widow noticed my surprise in the expression i of my countenance, and said: 'You will f take your meals with me. I have orders from your kind lover not to consider or treat you as a common boarder, and so you will i take your meals with me.' It struck me that such a movement was very singular, and so expressed myself to the widow. There wras something about it I could not understand. ' Mr. Cunard does not like to have you sit at a public table to be gazed upon,' con- tinued this cunning woman ' Besides, he does not wish to have you mingle in the society of common sewing-girls and me- chanics. In good time h will nuin f von in the rank for which i you.' 'I fear the young man pride,' I replied, believing said. 'I am nothing- bt myself'.' 'True, but persons -of . always keep 'themselves. laboring classes,' she answ . a class by themselves, and their money ena- bles them to live just as they please; while the lower classes of the community .re obliged to cut their coat according to theit't.-; cloth.. In a city like this such wide distinc- tions will. always exist. The two classes would not enjoy themselves so weil otherr as they do to be separate. Even in the country such distinctions are often found.' 'I can' bear witness to that,' I replied, with some earnestness; for the Sandford girls were fresh in my recollection. ' Money ' has a wonderful power in this world.' 'Yes, and you will soon have enough of it,' she added, smiling, and handing me a nice piece of roast beef, while the negrd, Jim, stood near his mistress, ready to answe- any of her calls. 'You 'have remarked that you thought my house splendidly furnished; but, you will see the difference when you become Mrs. Cunard, and the mistress of your own establishment. Your house will be furnished vastly richer than this-is. My furniture will look quite mean in the com- parison.' I began to see that my young lover had selected an excellent woman to have the care of me, and felt grateful to him for' his kind- ness in that regard. But it seemed to me after all that I was too much flattered, and ought to have been placed in a less splendid house. It was reasonable to suppose that my lover intended to pay 'my expenses, al- though the widow had not said so. But if Carolus intended to marry me, it didn't look so strange; still I should have liked to be more independent until I was married.- Our dinner was now finished, and the widow conducted me into a small private parlor, which was very neatly furnished, and every thing wore the air of comfort and even luxury, according to my country notions. ,I heard the door-bell frequently ring, and o^, JI th^ voices of men and girls; but I had seen but two or three girls and no gentlemen, unless the negro servant may be reckoned in that category. The widow now questioned me more par- ticularly about my mother, the people, and my native village. I answered all her ques- tions frankly and without reserve. The more I became acquainted with her the better I liked her. She appeared to be a very intelr ligent and kind-hearted woman; but as yet she was comparatively a stranger to me.- Much of her conversation was upon the sub- ject of my marriage withY young Cunard.- That seemed to occupy her thoughts more than any thing else; in fact, it absorbed *more of her mind than it did mine; for my heart was yet in some good degree divided between my lovers. It is true, since I came to this house my mind had rather inclined towards young Cunard. I began to perceive, that it was quite as troublesome to have two lovers as it was to have none at all. After a long'conversation, the widow left me to my own thoughts. Now the young blacksmith appeared in my imagination. When I left home, he was the subject of my thoughts. I knew he loved me sincerely, and in some good degree I reciprocated his affections. He was a very industrious young man, persevering, honest, energetic, and good-looking. I entertained a very favorable opinion of him. He had made me promise to write to him and inform him where he could find me in case he came to the city, and he engaged to write to me also. These promises were mutual, and I felt bound to fulfil my part of the obliga- tion; but what to write to him was a very troublesome question. I repaired to my chamber, and, on the way met a very gaudily dressed young lady. She was dressed in the most fashionable style, at least, I supposed she was, for I noticed that her dress was cut quite different froin mine. Having come to ,the city to follow dressmaking, it was quite natural that I should particularly notice the cut and fashion of the ladies' dresses. This girl seemed disposed to converse with me'; and yet there seemed to be an air of caution about her that I could not fully comprehend or appreciate. Hearing the front door open, she went to the window and looked out into the street. The widow had walked out, and then the girl seemed to be less cautious and embarrassed. 'She first spoke of the weather, and called it ' a splendiferous day.' That was a new word to me, but found no diffi- culty in comprehending its meaning, and answered her, confirming her remark in re- lation to the weather. page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] 'Is this your first appearance on these boards?' she asked, throwing her head upon one side, and trying to appear very grace- ful. I at first hesitated, and then told her that I did not know as I fully understood her question. '0, I mean, were you ever in the city be- fore?' she said, smiling at my verdancy. "'I never was,' I replied. 'This is my first appearance, as you say.' 'That is a phrase the theatre folks use when a new actor or actress appears,' she added. '0, I love toattend the theatres.' I told her I never was in a theatre in my life. She appeared somewhat surprised, and said the performances would please me very much. She then asked me my name, and where I came from, all which I told her. 'Good gracious!' she exclaimed. 'From Maine! I came from that State, and not twenty miles from the village where you lived. How queer! I have not been in Maine since I left there, which was four years ago.' She told me her name was Josephine Melville. 1 thought it was quite a romantic name; and told her my object in coming to the city. 'To learn to be a dressmaker!' she re- peated, laughing. 'Guess the young man who brought you here will nor let you work much at that trade.' ' What makes you think so?' I asked. '0, the needle will prick your fingers, and make them rough,' she replied, laughing quite heartily, and gazing upon my curls.-- 'Good gracious! I wish my hair would curl as finely as yours does, and I wish it was of the same color. My hair is rather light, and it won't curl worth a cent; I may keep e it in papers all day or night, and then it will come out almost as straight as flax.' 'I think your hair is very pretty,' I re. marked. 'And like the fashion in which you wear it. I think it looks quite as well as it would curled.' 'So it does, and better too; but then if it would curl as naturally as yours does I should never wear it as I do now,' she re- plied. I asked her if she was acquainted with Carolus Cunard. '0, I have occasionally seen him, and know him by reputation,' she answered.- ' le is quite a fast young man, and his father is rich.' ' Fast young man!' I repeated. 'What do you mean by that?' ' Why, don't you know?' she asked, laugh- ing. 'It means he keeps - --- . . .. to ride, go to the theatres, and spend his money free we call a fast young man I'm aware there are but fe because they havn't got the common saying down in M .. . makes the mare go; and b lieve it, and so will you seen more of the city. Cu . fellow.' 1 told her I had but a sl with him, having never seei day. 'Well, you will probably become better acquainted, with him before long,' she said, smiling. I remarked I did not know whether I should or not; but she smiled, and told me she knew better than that. I noticed she had several gold rings upon her fingers, and a gold chain about her neck, and her dress admirably fitted her genteel and graceful form. I concluded she must have money enough; and indulged some curiosity to know how she obtained it. I did not know but her father might be rich. She did not look to me as if she labored much, for her hands were very delicate, and her forefingers not made rough enough with the needle as she expressed it. Her eyes were of a light blue, but quite bright and sparkling, and her features regular. Her complexion was light, but there was a pale look in her face which did not denote good health, as I thought.- She noticed that I closely examined her face. 'I wish my eyes were as dark as yours,' she said. ' Your eyes are well enough,' was my re- ply. 'Very dark eyes would not become your complexion so well as your own now do.' 'Biut I can change the color of my com- plexion, but cannot that of my eyes,' she said, laughing, and showing a very hand- some set) of teeth. 'How so?' I asked, in the simplicity of my heart. '0, rouge will do it,' she replied, ' And I would use more of it if my eyes were as dark as yours;' I understood her, but it did not occur to me that she painted. I told her I never saw any body use paint. J .'. , beftr I came to the city,' she added. 'There's no need of your painting, ior nature has done that for you better than you could do it yourself.' The more I conversed with her, the greater mystery I found her. I was really per- plexed to read her character. I then told her I supposed she was going to be married. I made such a remark because she had inti- mated to me that I was soon to become the wife of young Cunard. 'I hate promises,' she replied, while a shade came over her countenance, and she seemed to have some serious reflections. ' And have you doubts about their being fulfilled?' I asked, feeling quite an interest in the question; for I had often heard of false-hearted lovers, and broken promises. ' God only knows whether men will keep their promises or not,' she replied, in a tone of voice that told that she really felt what she said. 'Men ought to hold such promises sacred,' I added. ' Good God!' she exclaimed. 'Indeed, they. ought; but they do not always perform what they promise!' I was startled by her exclamation, and trembled in every muscle. Her countenance assumed a wild look, and her lips quivered. I dared not make any reply, and" in fact knew not what to say. She stood a moment with her eyes fastened upon the floor and her hands clenched. 'I don't often cry of late,' she said.- ' Ask me not the cause of my tears, but take- care of yourself. All is not gold that glitters. The city and country are quite different places. Some folks may yet learn that a female heart can feel the spirit of revenge as well as that of love. I have one request to make. Say not one word that has passed between us to the widow.' I promised her I would not. She seized my hand, nervously pressed it, gazed into my eyes, turned away, and hurried up stairs. I entered my room, sat down, and seriously reflected on what 1 had witnessed. My sympathies were strongly enlisted in her behalf, and I longed to hear more of the story of her life. What I heard was a severe admonition to me. 'Take care of yourself!' kept ringing in my ears, and I fully resolved to heed the advice. I began to witness some of the aspects of city life; and almost wished myself back again under the parental roof. page: 36 (Illustration) -37[View Page 36 (Illustration) -37] "OUIs8 AND, JOSEP1EIN CHAPTER X. The new dress. The surprise. The art oj a cunning woman. The progress of events The heroine more hnd more bewildered.- High words, and listening, C4c. I remained in my room until the afternoon was far advanced, and saw no one. My re. flections were any thing but agreeable That girl's looks and tears were before my mental eyes continually, and I could not keep her out of my thoughts. Her case was a great mystery to me. At last it seemed to me that she might have been seduced by some smooth, false-hearted scoundrel who had promised, most solemnly, to marry her.- -That thought filled me with keener anguish than all mwy other thoughts; but I was loth to believe such was the case. The more I thought of the subject the more bewildered I became, until I endeavored to drive the whole affair from my mind ; but 1 could not do that. I indulged the hope that she would on some future occasion tell me more, and give a full history of her case. At last a carriage was driven up, and the widow Topway alighted and entered the house. She had been gone some hours, promenading and shopping. She immebdi- ately came to my room, bearing in her hand a snmll bundle. 'There,' she sfid, handing me the bundle, open that and see how you like it.' I -i ,led the package, and found a very beautiful pink muslin dress. It was very fine and handsome. I told her I admired ' I am glad to hear it,' she answered. ' didn't know as I could suit you. I had some idea of asking you to accompany me; but you were so fatigued with your journey that I concluded to go alone and make the pur- chase.' 'I did not fully comprehend what she meant; she noticed that I was somewhat taken by surprise. 'That dress is for you,' she continued.- ' Your lover gave me the money and ordered me to purchase it for you.. This is barely a beginning of his generous deeds. Richer and more costly dresses than this you will wear. This is an every day dress for the warm season.' 'For me?' I asked,ffeeling much sur- prised. 'Yes, for you,' she answered. 'I shall have a dressmaker here in the morning, and have it made up immediately. qThe text dress you will have will be a rich and costly brocade.' 'I am really sorry that he has ordered you I to make this purchase,' I said, feeling just as - I said. t ' And why so?' she- asked, gazing upon I me in apparent astonishment, 'It is nothing for him to purchase you forty dresses, and t dare say your wardrobe will contain that t number before a year has elapsed. You 9 may consider yourself a very fortunate girl. I No one in the city is more so. Young * Cunard is determined that your wardrobe shall correspond with your beauty.' i '0, madam, you flatter me altogether too much,' I replied. 'It is more than I can bear. I'm not used to such things.' ' It is not my intention to flatter you at all,' she added. ' I am only repealing what he has told me this very day. Tomorrow the dressmaker will come, and then you will have an opportunity to commence learning the trade you have spoken of. You will probably have several opportunities of the same kind before many weeks have passed.' She now laughed quite heartily, while I watconfused and bewildered, and knew not what reply to make. t was taken by surprise. ' Cunard is ambitious, and he intends that you shall create quite a sensation when he takes you to the theatre or any public place,' she continued.' 'He 'says your beauty will call out many inquiries where you came from, what is your name and who you are. He knows how to do up things. The rich young men of the city are always striving to see who can marry the handsomest wives. It is quite different in the country. I once lived in the country myself. Beauty there is not so much thought of as it is here. The rich have a good many splendid parties, and the gentleman who has the most beautiful wife always carries off the palm. AhN my dear,you will learn all aboutit one of these days. Rich men's wives have nothing to do but make a show in the world. Well; nien have a right thus to spend their money 'and enjoy themselves.' "'I am not at all calculated for such ex- hibitions,' I replied. 'I have never been used to mingle in'such society, and' should appear awkward.' page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] Not a bit of it,' she answered. 'You have the personal beauty, and that is' the main qualification. Having that, you will soon accustom yourself to move among the aristocratic and wealthy. Your face and form will carry you any where. It is im- possible for a lady to be awkward who has such a genteel form as yours. You will find every thing I tell you to be true. I say, again, you are a very fortunate young lady. Learn a dressmaker's art! I cannot help laughing when I think of it. Just before young Cunard left this morning, he laughed about your learning that trade, and said he would give you several opportunities to learn how the dressmakers fitted you before you had been in the city many weeks.' The widow left me after spinning out a very long yarn, and I heard her voice in another room; I could not distinguish what was said, but it seemed to me that there was some trouble, for it seemed a good deal like scolding. Josephine stood on her tiptoes and listened very attentively, and apparently with' a good deal of interest. I didn't know what to make of such an exhibition.. At last the words grew less, and were uttered in lower tones when Josephine came softly towards me, and whispered, 'I guess, the widow has got a splinter under her finger-nail.' 'What is the trouble?' I anxiously in- quired in a whisper. 'Some trouble with one of the girls, I presume,' she replied. '0 God, I wish I was under some other roof!' ' But what is it?' I asked, holding her by the arm, and trembling. I can't tell you more now,' she answered. ' We must not be seen together. Take care of yourself.' She instantly left me and stole up stairs as stealthily as a cat, and was soon out of my sight. I went to my room and threw myself into a chair. All was shrouded in mystery, and I began to feel the same desire as the girl expressed, that. is, to be under some other roof. ' Take care of yourself,' again rung, more loudly in my ears than ever before. What could that girl mean by such an admonition! That question 1 kept asking myself; but I could get no satisfactory an- swer. ' The widow has a splinter under her finger-nail!' That was a new phrase to me, and I did not understand its full meaning. That girl was a singular character, and I could not comprehend it. O, how I longed to have a serious conversation with her! I became much interested' in her. She was evidently in. trouble at times, if not con- stantly; bat of the cause I was ignorant.- Having been born in the same State, and not many miles from where I first saw the light, she greatly interested me, and perhaps more deeply on that account. My new dress lay on the bed where I had spread it out in order to have a better view of it; and although it was more beautiful than any I had ever seen, yet I looked upon it with a certain undefined and indefinable suspicion; but why I could not tell. Since my interview with the mysterious Josephine Melville, i suspected almost every thing. I tried to calm my mind, and drive these sus. picions from me; but they would haunt me like ghosts in spite of my efforts to keep them down. Suspicions of what, or whom? That question I often asked myself;, but could obtain no definite answer. Thus was I embarrassed tapping was he; Jim very polite The widow I nity and care, t attention and make herself w was motherly, I agreeable. CHAPTER XI. Another change of feeling.. Learning hzu- man nature in all its aspects. The inter- view. A severe trial. Virtue triumphant, : c. AFTER tea I sought my room. 1 confess the widow's kind treatment and harmonious remarks had somewhat quieted my nerves. Having seen but a little of human life, and that little confined to a quiet village in the country, I began to think that all my vague suspicions were unfounded, and that the more I might see of the different aspects of human conduct, the less would be my sur- prise at any demonstration. True, Josephine Melville, appeared very singular, and I had heard some very high words; but after all I concluded, or endeavored to persuade my- self into the belief that all would come. out well in the end. If I could have consulted my mother, I should have been happy; but I started from home with the knowledge that I must depend upon my own strength and resources. Expecting Carolus Cunard to visit me, I adjusted my ringlets, and made myself look as well as I could with the few means I had at command. Although I had not fully de- termined to accept him as a suitor in pref- erence to Captain Dunmore; yet I was un- willing to do any thing to induce Carolus to love me less. That was all natural enough. No woman is often willing to be loved less; for that is a kind of worship from the other sex which is not desirable to see diminished. I had every reason to believe that my lover possessed a good character, was rich, and loved me more than he ever did any other girl, To tell the truth I was anxious th see him, and waited with some degree of impatience until he came. It was some time after night- fall before he came, but he did come and I was rejoiced to see him. My female readers must not infer from this that I really loved him, for if I knew my own heart, I believe I did not; and yet I felt an interest in him which approximated towards love, but it was not true love, as since I have found outi by experience. 1' heard the door-bell ring, and hurried down into the little private parlor. As I passed along the hall, I saw a young gentle- man talking with a girl, and soon they went up stairs together. I found Carolus and the widow talking very busily as I entered the room. He received me cordially; but I thought the widow looked us if she felt I had come down from my room too soon.- And such was the fact; foC she told me Carolus would have gone to my room to see me, it I had not come down. I didn't very s well like the looks of that, still I didn't know but city fashions and customs would justify a young man in visiting a young lady in her own room. However, it did not seem ex- actly right to me, and Iwas glad I had come down. We conversed some time upon sev- eral subjects, and the widow performed her part of the conversation with much skill and tact. At last she remarked that as she expected -I company that evening perhaps it would be as t well for me and my lover to go to my own d chamber. The red blushes came into my t cheeks, and I made no answer. She knew t well enough that 1 was embarrassed; but I her consummate tact soon made me believe there could be no great harm in the move- [ ment, and I conducted my lover to my chamber. He seemed very willing to go. I i had but a single lamp burning there; but Jim soon came up with a larger one, which shed a brilliant light over the room. My new dress was still lying spread upon the bed, which he noticed. Ah, then the widow has purchased you the dress I ordered,' he said, smiling. I told him she had, and thanked him for the present. 'It is a very pretty one,' he continued.- I knew her good taste, and thought I would surprise you. How do you like it?' 'Very well, indeed,' I replied. ' But I'm sorry to have you be at so much expense for me. I shall never be able to pay you for all your kindness and generosity.' 'I am already more than paid,' he replied, taking my hand, and gently pressing it.- ' What is a single dress? Why, my dear Louise, I shall esteem it a pleasure to pur- chase you a hundred, and expect to do so before you die.' I could not find words to make a reply.- In fact I hardly knew what to say. He still held my hand, and seemed somewhat nervous. At last he said he had another present for me, and took 'from his pocket a beautiful ring which he placed upon my finger. The ring sparkled in the light of the lamp, and excited strange emotions in my heart; I -hardly knew whether to be glad or soriy.- However, I thanked him, and endeavored to be cheerful. I felt he was fast bringing me under obligations to him, and that was a source of regret to me. ' There, your hand now begins to look like a lady's,' he said, kissing it, and smiling most graciously.', I intend to have all your ornaments to correspond with your natural beauty.' page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] 'I fear your ornaments will outshine every thing else,' I replied, gently withdrawing my hand from his lips. ' No danger of that, unless there are more skilful jewelers than the world has ever yet produced,' he answered. ' Soon as I have fitted you out with a suitable dress and orna- ments I intend to take you to the theatre.' I hardly know what a theatre is,' was my reply. 'I suppose not; but I intend you shall know before many days shall pass,' he said. 'I shall engage a private box, and you must not be surprised if many eyes and glasses are turned towards you.' ' How did you find your folks?' I asked, wishing to change the subject, and avoid his flattery; for there was rather too much of it, . '0, very well, indeed, I thank you,' he replied, ' My sister was exceedingly glad to see me. I told her I had seen a girl in Maine much more beautiful than she was; and she is considered one of the most beauti- ful girls in Boston. But did not tell her who she was, or that she had come to the city.- One of these days I intend to surprise her.' ' Perhaps she may be very much surprised in not finding the girl from Maine, half so beautiful as you have represented her,' I an- swered. 'Perhaps'she may; but I don't believe it,' he said, laughing. 'I profess to be a judge of female beauty, and am not often mistaken in my judgment. I'm bold to say, that there is no young lady in Boston whose face and form are so beautiful as yours. Call it flat- tery or any thing you please. I shall insist upon it, and do not intend to be beaten out of it. I know it, and if it were not so, I should not be here this evening. I have often told my' friends in the city that I was fully determined to have the handsomest wife to be found in this Metropolis of New Eng- land, if such an one could be found.- And by heavens, I think I have found her at last.' With that exclamation, he thrust his arm round my waist, and drew my face to his; but, before he had time to kiss me I released myself from his grasp, and seated myself in another chair. T felt as if that was making too much of an advance; and. accordingly resisted him in such a manner that he felt rebuked, and even apologized for his rude- ness. The words of Josephine Melvile, ' take care of yourself,' came to my memory at the moment he thus embraced me, and obeyed the impulse they suggested without. thinking whether he might be displeased or not. 'You must pardon me, my dear Louise,' he said, looking rather disturbed in his self- complacency, and gazing anxiously upon me as I sat in a chair al him. 'CI 'Intended no 1 to an honest impulse. to know by this time, 1 and thus loving, it is n. wish to embrace you. have done any thing a 'insult you in the least your pardon.' ' I can't think you intended to insult me, an unprotected female, and a stranger in a strange city,' I replied; feeling very sorry that I sprang from him sosuddenly, and with so much force. 'Indeed, I did not, he said, moving his chair near mine, and fondly gazing in my face. ' My dear Louise, you are the last person in this world whom I would insult.- No! God forbid, that I should do any thing that may look like an insult. O, my dear Louise, if you knew how deeply, and ar- dently I. love you, I know you would find thousands of excuses for the seeming rude- ness of my conduct. Is it strange that I should wish to seal my love with a kiss? It seems to me it is the most reasonable as well as natural thingsin the world. I don't know much about country life, nor country cus- toms; but fashionable society would not re- strain one from doing what I attempted to do a moment ago. No, no, my dear girl, you have many things yet to learn before you can know much about fashionable life and city customs; but I intend that you shall learn them, and become one of the leaders in the fashionable world. You have beauty, and I have money enough to accomplish that, and we will do it. You must not be too re- served, and every thing will end gloriously. We have a happy career before us. We will visit the fashionable watering-places, ride about the country, go down and see your mother, and ring her to the city to live with us.' I listened attentively while he was thus earnestly speaking, and Ifelt strange emotions agitating my heart; but I was resolved not to permit him to take any liberties with me. The remark he made atout my mother was exceedingly agreeable to me at that time. I O"n;I I it ever married it would be my strongest wish to have my mother live'with me; but made no reply to him. He again took my hand, which I suffered him to hold a few moments, and then withdrew it. EIe did not appear to be very well pleased with the act, although he made no further com- plaint in words. I could see, however, that he was greatly disappointed; for he imagined that his remarks had produced the effect upon me which he desired. He remained some time, and at last toot his leave, promising to call again, soon. He went below and had a long talk with the widow but what was said I did not know. I was glad when he de- parted; and yet, I felt afraid I had offended him, and almost regretted that I did not let, him kiss me, he seemed to be so anxious, and argued the case so well, I hardly knew whether I had done wrong or not, under all the circumstances, but my conscience ac- quitted me. CHAPTER XII. The dream which was all a dream. Con- flicting emotions. The dressmaker. Mat- ters of taste. The French. Another change #Sfeeling. Art and cunning. I HAD a dream, but it was all a dream.- Soon after-iy lover took his leave of me, I retired and sought that repose I so much needed. Being much fatigued in body and mind, I soon fell into a sound sleep, and dreamed that I was the wife of Carolus Cunard, and lived in the greatest splendor.- A few weeks after we were married we took a splendid private carriage, and traveled to my native home, in Maine. I had a maid- servant to wait upon me, and my husband engaged Jim the negro servant of the widow Topway, who accompanied us on the journey. We drove into my native village in the after- noon of a fine summer's day, and went di- rectly to the little public hotel. People in the street stared at us, and many heads were at the windows of the houses. There was much excitement in the village; for the news had arrived that we were coming. I felt as if-I had obtained the object of my highest ambi- tion. The young ladies who had scorned my society now were anxious to see and be introduced to my husband. Jim acted as the master of ceremonies, and a, great display he made in the exercise of his official func- tions. He and the driver of our carriage were dressed in livery, and my waidrobe was exceedingly rich and splendid. I lad brought new dresses for my mother, in which she appeared, and greatly astonished the na- tives. page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] Never had there been before such a great excitement in this little village. Even busi ness was almost entirely suspended; and scores of persons were hanging about the tavern, examining out' horses and carriage, and trying to catch glimpses of me and my husband. Jim, too, was the subject of great curiosity, and many children came to see him. My maid-servant was more richly dressed than any girl in the village. But, alas! The excitement was more th'n I could bear, and sleep soundly. I awoke, and the morning sun was shining through the windows of my room. Drops of perspi- ration stood upon my brow, and the excite- ment of the dream had somewhat exhausted my physical energies. I arose and made my toilet; and the dream still haunted my im- agination. However, I soon shook offthese strange feelings, and opened my eyes to, the realities of my existence. Here I was a stranger in a strange city, arnd God only knew what my fate would be! I thought of my two lovers, and really felt anxious to see Captain Dunmore. It seemed to me that he could, protect me better than young Cunard, and that I could lean upon him for support with more confidence. He had made an impression upon me which his absence seemed to deepen. J examined my own heart, and endeavored to ascertain the true state of my feelings; but the more I studied myself, the more I was confused and i bewildered. I was convinced that Cunard E had not made any advances in the conquest i of my heart. Last evening's interview had x not made a favorable impression upon me; I at least, so it seemed to me. And yet I did not know but I should yield to his wishes, q and become the partner of his life. But strange as it may appear to the reader, I was s more anxious that morning to see the Cap- t tain than I had been the day previous. Why it was so, I could not tell. The fact was a it strange to me, yet it was a fact. I finally i concluded I would write to him that day, if d I could do so, and not be detected. I knew e not how to find the post office; but "onclud. ed I could make the negro servant a friend, and get him to put the letter into the post office, and also one for my mother; for I had promised to write to her as soon as I had arrived in the city, and secured a board. ing place. Having dressed myself, I stepped from my room into the hall, and saw Josephine looking out of one of the front windows into the street. As I came out she turned her head and cautiously beckoned me to her. I was glad to see her, and hurried towards her. ' Go into my room,' I whispered. But she shook her head for answer. I noticed her j eyes wer ' been wee ' You I in a low being bv . - I rema know wh 'No m care of y 'I did, indeed,' I replied. 'And thank you for your good admonition.' 'I hope it was a timely one,' sheadded.- 'Somenow I feel an interest in you, and suppose the reason is because we both came from the same State, and almost from the same neighborhood. We must not talk long, for the widow will soon be up. She usually rises before this tine ; ltt she had company last night.' ' 'Has she a prospect of marriage?' I in- quired. The girl looked at me, and a peculiar smile passed over her sad features. It was the only answer she made to my inquiry.- At that moment foosteps were heard below, and she tripped up stairs, leaving me in wonder and surprise at her strange conduct. There was a mystery in her character I could not penetrate. Why it should so hap- pen that she always left me at the very mo- ment when I was about to ask her questions that greatly interested me, I could not con- jecture; but so it was, and I was destined to disappointment. Soon after, I was called to breakfast, and the widow Topway was more pleasant and full of smiles than ever. We partook of an excellent breakfast, and she made the time pass very agreeably. She exercised a strange power over me, and could change the current of, my thoughts and feelings at any time. As she handed me a cup of coffee, she remarked with a smile: ' I suppose the day may not be far distant when you will set, at the head of a table more richly and splendidly furnished than this.' 'Indeed, madam,' I replied, 'I fear that day is very far distant, for I do not feel at all qualified for such a position.' ' ualified?she repeat( d with qpe'of her most pleasant smiles - 'Qualified! You have all th, power necessary to grace any establishment, however rich and splendid. Those very curls now hanging brightly over your neck and shoulders will pass you in any place, and your lover, and my generous friend, Cunard, knows it. I can assure you he is a young man of most excellent taste and judgment, and knows what he is about. He told me last evening after he came from a your room, that the more he became ac c quainted with you the more he prized your t beauty, and the more deeply he loved you, t Ah, my dear girl, you have mede a com- plete conquest of his heart. I have never ] known a young man love more deeply and ardently than he loves you. I can see you f are destined to be a happy couple.' Heaven only knows how happy we may a t. be,' I replied. 'I feel that I ought to con- I suit my mother before I consent to become a- the wife of any gentleman.' - As a general rule that is right; but I s think your case forms an exception,' she - cunningly answered. 'It is seldom in this j world that a poor girl has such' a brilliant offer as you have. I should accept it, and ] one of these days agreeably surprise your d mother.' f I thought of writing to her to-day,' I replied. 'That is well,' she added. ' Write to her that she must not be surprised if she hears by your next letter that you are married to one of the finest young men of the city, who has money enough to live in the most fashionable style. I know that your good mother will rejoice at such news. It would be passing strange if she does not. But, my dear, I don't know as you will have time to write to-day, as I expect you will commence learning the dressmaker's trade.' The last remark she uttered with a hu- morous look, and laughed very heartily, so much so that I could not resist the tempta. tion to laugh too. For the time I forgot all my troubles, and began to think that my own marriage was not far distant. But how sudden are th'e changes of feeling in ithe human heart!- Soon after I reached my room a change came over the spirit of my dream, and sombre clouds seemed to hover over my prespects. The 'words and strange looks and actions of that girl, Josephine Melville, came up fresh in my memory, and changed the whole current of my thoughts and emo- tions. What could she mean by such de- monstrations? What was her condition?* Had she fallen from that virtue-which my sex prize so highly? Had her lover proved false? Was she still virtuous, or was she a wanton? These questions occupied my agitated mind,. and, especially, did the last page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] question sink deep into my heart, and spread a kind of sickness over my soul! But I would not believe such could be her con- dition. A wanton and board with such a fine lady as the widow Topway seemed to be! No! no! Such could not be the fact And yet something whispered my soul that it might be possible. Why was she afraid to let the widow know that she conversed with me? That question gorati troubled me, and I could not solve it satisfactorily to my own mind. I was much disquieted whenever I thought of that girl. But I must ' hasten on with my narrative. Soon after breakfast the dressmaker came, her iame was Catharine Cabbott; she was of French origin, but spake English well. When I came down from my chamber she and the widow were in the small private parlor. I was introduced to her, and she immediately began to examine my form, and run her hands over my waist and shoulders. ' 'You have a beautiful form, and one easily fitted,' said Kate, as the widow fa- miliarly called her. ' Your shoulders have -a graceful slope, and your bust and waist are very fine. I ,love to fit dresses to such forms. Your form very much resembles the French.' '0,' yes, and 'that's what makes you like it so well, said the widow, laughing.- 'Nothing like French forms and fashions in your opinion. 'Very true,' replied Kate. ' The French have the most beautiful forms in the world, and surely their fashions prevail over all others.' 'Well, this young lady is a real Yankee, "born and bred in the State of Maine,' said the widow. 'I go for the Yankees, for I'm a native of good old Connecticut.' She now proceeded to take my measure, and worked as if she was perfectly at home in her business. 'Now you will have a fine opportunity to steal Kate's art,' said the widow, laugh- ing, and addressing me. 'I think I should be obliged to see more than one dress fitted, before I could steal all the art,' 1 replied. 'I could learn you in, a few weeks so that you could fit nicely,' said Kate. ' I know by your looks that you have a natu- ral taste for such things.' Thus the conversation continued for some time, until the widow was summoned by the negro Jim to another room, where a gentleman wished to see her. I was glad of the opportunity of talking with the dress- maker alone. I admired the skill and taste she manifested in her business, but there were some things about her which I did not like, and yet I cot" -- -" I told her I came to t pose of learning the ar a' Yes, my dear, so I widow Topway; but I . dresses you will ever . ; : to a tithe of those you - replied, assuming a sly 'I reckon Mrs. Cunar, stand making dresses' 'I know no such lady as Mrs. Cunard,' I replied. 'Perhaps not just now, but I'n thinking you will make her acquaintance in a few weeks,' she added. 'Your'e a very fortu- nate young lady, indeed. But few girls have brighter prospects before them than ydu have. The Cunards are very wealthy and move in the highest circle. There is French blood in that family.' She ran on, and her tongue seemed to be hung in the middle, while her long slender fingers were busily engaged on the dress.-- Her motions were quick, and the work pro- ceeded fast under her management. I offered to assist in sewing, but she assured me Mr. Cunard would not be pleased if I sewed a stitch on the dress. ' Boston people,' she said, were full of notions, and some of them were very proud notions, too. Hearing so many favorable reports about the Cunards, I con- eluded not to write to Captain Dunmore at present, but would wait a short time; I found time, however, during the day to write to my mother, and gave her a brief history of my voyage to the city. CHAPTER XIII. The appearance of the strange girl. Her ominous words, and their effect upon the heroi The widow's discourse upon love. 7Te-h erview. Its results, A4c. WHLE I was engaged in writing a letter to my mother, and the widow was busily talking with the dressmaker, that strange git,-iJosephine, softly opened my room door, and looked in. ' Come in,' I said, glad to see her. She shook her head. 'Writing to your mother,' she said, in a I low voice. 'I am,' was py reply. ' Come in a few r minutes.' 'No, no,' she replied. 'Tell your mother t that you have thus far taken care of yourself, p and that you intend to do so.' I assured her I would do so, and again le urged her to come in, but she refused. o j Can you keep a secret?' she anxiously sh ; :Indeed I can,' I replied, feeling very b desirous of hearing what she had to say. in ' Be on your guard,' she said. 'The city T is full of temptations. The widow Topway- all No, I will say nothing about her; but, re- be member, all is not gold that glitters!' [ Saying that, the girl closed the door, and me stole softly away, leaving me to reflectupon tif her strange actions. I had nearly closed my wi \ a letter. If I had not, I'm sure I could not id, have written it, I was so excited and be- re wildered by what the girl said, and tHe man- ny ner of her saying it. She appeared to me n- to be my guardian angel. It was evident that at she intended to caution me against the arts of I the widow Topway; but why she did so was te entirely beyond my comprehension. The ry thought B for the first time occurred to me thatie'as suffering some mental de. rangemeni The more I reflected upon her strange conduct, the more convinced I was that she was laboring under a species of in- sanity. I almost settled down into that be- lief, and yet I feared I was mistaken I longed to converse with the widow about her, but dared not do it. , The singular actions of r the girl, and her more singular remarks im: Y posed a restraint upon me from which I dared e not break away. Her power over my mind , seemed to increase every hour. The day broke away, and sometimes I was cheerful and sometimes sorrowful. I gave the negro servant the letter I had written t my mother, and he carried it to the post office. In my letter I stated that 1 had ar- rived safely in the city and found a good boarding place. I did,not write that I had two lovers; but that she must not be sur- prised, if my next letter informed her that I was the happy wife of a rich husband. I left it so that she could consider it a joke or not, just as she pleased, but presuming she would not take me in earnest. The widow assisted in making my dress, but she would not suffer me to take one stitch a in it for the same reason the dressmaker gave. They seemed to agree perfectly, and to have an excellent understanding together. Just before night-fall my dress was finished and I put it on. It was a perfect fit, and made me look very genteel. It was the most beau- tiful dress I ever wore.. By the advice of the widow I kept it on, as I expected my lover page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] in the evening. She said he would expect me to wear it, and I did 'not wish to dis- appoint him. He had given it to me, and I was disposed to please him .by wearing it in his presence. After tea the dressmaker / took her leave, and the widow undertook to give me some advice in regard to my con- duct while I was with my lover. ' No doubt he will be here evening, she said. 'And you must be ari not to displease him. You must rem er that he is very ardently in love with you, and should he desire to kiss you, be cautious not to resist him too much. The customs here are quite different from the customs in the country.- In fashionable life, kissing is quite common, and there is not so rhuch reserve as there is in the country.' I told her what was wrong there would be wrong here, in my opinion. ' , no,' she replied. 'Custom regulates all these affairs. You must expect your lover to exhibit evidences of his strong attachment. It would seem very strange to him to pass an evening with a girl he loved and whom he expected to marry, and not be permitted to kiss her. Very modest and bashful young men in the country, might behave very dif- ferently; but I assure you that youmust not expect such reserve here. I tell you this for your good. Depend upon it your lover will do nothing but what the customs of the high circles in which he moves will justify.' 'Your advice and my mother's do not agree at all, I said, remembering well the lessons she gave me the evening before I left home. / 'Very likely it is so,' she answered.- 'Your mother lives back in the country, and I reside-in this great city. That fact alone is enough to account for the difference in our opinions.' You know or ought to know that I would not advise you to do any thing t t wrong any more than your good mother - would. O, no; heaven forbid!, But I feel 1 an interest in your welfare, and desire to see t you the happy wife of the rich, and good- r hearted Cunard. I know he loves you very ) deeply and ardently, and I also know him to be one of the most excellent young men in the city. He has mingled in the society of thousands of beautiful and accomplished young ladies; but you are the first one that ever made a conquest of his heart, and I would not now have him disappointed for worlds. I think I have never seen a young man so deeply in love as he is. His is the most remarkable instance of love at first sight. I have often heard it, but I think I have never seen- such a ra'akable case of it as he has exhibited. I have heard him ridicule the . . . . sight; but being alway: doctrine, I told him he opinions one of these frankly confessed that I the first time his eyes in the stage coach, he what he ever did before the female countenance thing in the expression struck a chord in his heart that was never touched before. He felt it like a shock of electricity, and the more he gazed upon you the more strong did that feeling become, until he waslabsolutely convinced' that love had made him its victim. He said-he thou of me at the time and of what I hbad4ste told him. Have you not, my dear, hea that matches were made in Heaven?'* 'I have heard mother say so a good many times,' I replied. 'No doubt of it, and yet how little people seem to think of it,' she said. ' Now love, in my estimation, is a very solemn thing.- What is it? That is an important question. Where does it come from? That is another important question. Ah, my dear, love ema- nates from Heaven, and we must treat it as a very sacred thing.' ' But suppose I cannot 'ove him? I said. ' Not love him!' she repeated, smiling.-- ' Depend upon it, Heaven has never made a Jack without a Jill. A spark from Heaven would never have touched his 'heart, unless it had been designed to kindle a flame in yours also. No, no, my dear Louise, Heaven never makes such mistakes! You will love him, and warmly too.' Thus she conversed for a long time, and fairly bewildered my mind. I went to my chamber'nd on my way met Josephine.- She n ly grasped my hand, and I was almost afraid of her. It was twilight, and the hall lamps had not been lighted. 'A beautiful new dress,' she said, running her hand over my sleeve, and looking me fult in the -face. 'A good fit on a fine form; but take care of yourself, and not hear a baby cry that has no one it can call father!' Before I had time to reply she had glided from my sight. I stood upon the floor as motionless as a statue. An indescribable feeling came over my soul, and it seemed as I if I was fixed to the spot, and almost im. movably fixed.' Never did words uttered by- mortal lips produce such an effect upon me as those fe i rds . did. The last thought I indulged about this girl was that she was Lazy, and now I began to think she was not 1 : rtal, but a spirit who appeared to me in t nan form, for the express purpose of aring me of the dangers that beset my a l path. I stood some minutes before I could move from the spot where she left me and r glided so swiftly away. It was some time before I could gather my scattered thoughts 1 and command my feelings. The twilight, the grasp of her hand, and the peculiar tones of her voice, the words 1 she uttered; all seemed to overpower me' '"s and paralyze all my physical strength. How- ever, at last I rallied my powers, and en- tered my room. Had my lover then ap- peared he yould have found me in a sad condition.' 'Hear a baby cry that has no one it can call father!' These words kept ringing in my ears, and stirring the very depths of my soul. A few utes after, a gentle rapping was heard i if door, and 1 trembled lest that girl mighf fome in and again appear to me, but my fears were groundless, for the negro servant appeared with a lamp. 'Missus tdld me to bring up de big lamp, as you would want it dis evening,' he said, grinning, and looking very sly. I thanked him, and was glad to hear a voice that sounded as if it came from a mortal. 'I put your letter in de post office, and he will go to-morrow morning,' he said. ' I'm very much obliged to you,' I said, while he placed the lamp. on a small centre table. 'Dare, dat will give a bright light so the gem'an can see de new dress,' he added, laughing, in true negro style. 'How do you like it?' I asked, smiling, and beginning to feel as if 1 was really upon the earth once more among flesh and blood. ' Fus rate,' he replied. ' It make you look beautiful. Dat French woman knows how to fit a handsome form.' 'I think she understands her business,' I added. 'By the way, what young lady was that I saw when I was coming to tny room?' 'There be several young ladies in de house, and I couldn't say what one of 'em you might see,', he replied, smiling. 'You are right,' I said. 'But I think I heard some one call her Josephine.' 'Ah, yes Josephine,' be repeated. ' ThSre page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] be'one Josephine under dis roof. She came here to board, a few weeks ago, and I do not know much about her.' ' Nor I, for I have only hai a glimpse of her,' I answered, not wishing him to think that I ever heard her speak. 'Can you keep a secret?' he asked in a low voice; putting his fore-finger upon his thick lips, as a token of secret: I assured him any thing A tight say would be safe with me. ' Dat young lady has a baby, but no hus- band,' he whispered, placing his lips quite near my ear, as if he might be overheard. ' Mum is de word,' he continued. 'A gem'an pays her board, and sometimes comes to visit her. They may be married one of dese days, but I guesses not. Mum is de word.' 'Is the child here?' I asked, feeling anx- ious to hear more about this girl. '0, yes, in de third story back room,' he replied. 'It's a .beauty of a baby; but mum is de word.' I told him his secret was perfectly safe in my keeping, but I could get no more from him, and he left the room. I now began to see more light, and could understand why I that girl gave me such admonitions. My feelings were such that I hoped: my lover f would not make his appearance that evening, I but was destined to disappointment, for he c came in a short time after Jim brought up a the lamps. He appeared exceedingly glad d to see me, and complimented my new dress very highly. a But for what Josephine and the negro had said, I might have received my lover r more cordially than I did. The widow had prepared my mind to treat Carolus leniently, a but what I had heard since completely de- stroyed all the influence of the widow's elo- quent appeal and forcible reasoning. I was c in no mood to receive a lover, and desired o ne more than ever to have an interview with lo Captain Dunmore. It seemed strange how that man's image haunted my imagination..- of When my mind was troubled and my spirit k disquieted, my thoughts were on him, but at other times he was not so much present in a my heart. I now felt as if I wished I could s see him-and hear his advice. I determined I would not let another day pass without y writing to him. Such was the state of my feelings when my lover entered my chamber. - No doubt the widow had related to him the conversation she had with me, and greatly encouraged him, at least, I judged so from his actions. . S ' That French dressmaker h ed your I form admirably,' said my lover, placing his hand upon my shoulder, and gazing fondly into my face. I made no reply move his hand f some motions to tially understood. 'I have never he continued, d circling my waist I felt a sudder ; resist, however r. . appear to him, from him with a bound that placed me quite beyond his reach. I saw by-- expression of his countenance that he felt some anger as well as love, but I felt as though I. d done my duty, and nothing more. He sat in silence a few moments, then and addressed me. ^ 'I confess you have treated me. morei rudely than I had reason to expect,' he said. 'I have yet to learn that putting an arm round a lady's waist is a crime.' 'I hope you will excuse me,' I replied ' I'm young and a stranger to the customs of city life. I may have done wrong, but have only obeyed my mother's instructions, and surely that cannot be very far from right.- It is the duty of a daughter to obey her mo- ther; Heaven knows I have no wish to treat you ill. You have, indeed, been very kind to me; but I cannot disobey the earnest inr- struciions of my good mother which she urged upon me the night previous to my starting for this city. You certainly will excuse me on that account, if for no other.' 'If your mother were here she would ad- vise you differently,' he replied. 'It might be so,' I added. ' But in her absence I must do as she bade me.' 'It seems to me you have but a sorry no- tion of the power of love,' he said. 'I al- ways thought love sought to be near its ob- ject, and not to be kept at such a distance as you deem proper. Such love as that I pro- fess to know nothing about. O, my dear Louise, your conduct grieves me to the heart! I did fondly hope that I had found a girl with whom I could enjoy life and all its charms; but you have struck a severe blow upon me, and almost blasted my hopes forever. O, if you could form. any concep- tion of the depth of my love, it seems to me'- that you would not thus suddenly spring frio-ffiy embrae, .and leave me in this un- happy and awkward position.' 'I have no desire to make you unhappy,' I replied. 'But I cannot do that which my conscience tells me is wrong.' ' But do you not reciprocate my affection?' he anxiously inquired. i : ' I have not yet known you long enough to love,' I replied. 'I cannot say what my feelings and emotions may be; but I cannot say that I really love you as you profess to love me. You asked me a civil question, and I have answered you honestly and sin- cerely.' , : 'O, God ' he exclaimed. 'I wish I ha'd never been born into this world of tempta- tion and sorrow!' He really appeared to be much affected, and I pitied him; but some how or other, I was suspicious that he did not feel so much as he pretended to feel. It seemed to me like what I had heard' of acting in thb thea- tres, and, consequently, did not feel so much sympathy as I might have felt under other circumstances. The truth is, neither my mind nor spirit were prepared to receive a lover. He jd not remain long after he be. came convil'cAd that I would not suffer him to snatch even a kiss, which he seemed so anxious to obtain. CHAPTER XIV. The human heart is a book, but not yet fully understood. Thoughts of native home.-- The letter. More of the strange girl,- Tlhe course of love not smooth. Troubles thicken, 4^c. I TooKl off my new dress, and O, how anxiously I wished it had never been pur- chased or made! I threw myself upon the bed and wept like a child. My reflections were bitter, and my spirit was troubled. I began to learn something of my own heart. the more I saw of this young man the less I liked him. So far as he was concerned my hopes of a splendid marriage was dashed to the ground, and my thoughts run upon Capt.. Dunmnre. I thought if I could see him, he would support me under my present trials and afflictions. I wondered he had not called to see me, for he knew where I boarded.- But why should I wonder? Did I not promise to write to him? I finally concluded that the reason he did not call was because I had not fulfilled my promise to write. He supposed I did not wish to see him. How that thought wrung my heart I made a solemn promise to. myself, that another sun should not set before I wrote him. I tried to compose myself to sleep, but not only the page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] image of Josephine Melville haunted my imagination, but her singular words rung in my ears. Did Carolus Cunard wish to place me in a condition similar to that in which she had been placed by! some false-hearted man? The question almost .froze the blood in my veins! Could he be such a cruel, false-hearted man? I was reluctant to be- lieve it, and yet strange impressions had fastened themselves upon my soul! It was long past midnight before I even slumbered, and when I did, my spirit was so troubled that I kept waking every half hour. My night was, indeed, a restless one, if not ab- solutely a sleepless one. The sun rose bright and clear, and I arose with it. O, how I wished I was at home in my mother's house, or walking among the few flowers which my own hands had planted in our little garden! It was my first wish for home since I left it. But the thought of Captain Dunmore somewhat reconciled me, and kept alive those ambitious hopes which I had so long indulged. Soon as I had dressed myself, I sat down and wrote Capt. Dunmore the following brief note: DEAR SIR: Pardon me for not writing you sooner; I intended to do so, but circum- stances prevented. I hope you will call as soon as you receive this, unless you have { entirely forgotten me. But O, sir, that ; thought distresses me and I will dismiss it a ,from my mind! You have too much kind- ness to forget me so soon! at least, I indulge i that flattering hope. I frankly confess and y wish to leave this house, and need your a council and advice under present circum- stances. Do call soon and relieve me from i the weight that now presses so heavily upon h my heart. LouisE MARTIN. i After writing the letter I thrust it into my bosom, intending to give it to the negro ser- a vant to be carried to the post office immedi- i ately after breakfast. I left my room and ti ly walked into the hall, where I saw Josephine in just as she had placed her foot upon the first se step to ascend the stairs, and beckoned to 'h her, and she stopped. She looked anxious d and even sorrowful. d ' Be quick,' she said, in a low voice. 1, I hurried towards her, and asked if I could ,- trust the negro servant with a letter; for I d had suspicions that he might show it to the s widow Topway. , No, no,' she replied. ' Every letter will d be opened that you give to that cunning negro. He and his mistress have a perfect understanding together. Give me the letter, and I will put it into the post office for e you.' I gave her the letter. superscription, and said; one man's acquaintance that young Cunard.' She said no more, I now felt as if this s! friend I had in the hi that I had not given servant; for I was . been opened, read, a into the post office. What a change ha . in a few hours! I v fast, and found the i agreeable as ever. She treated me as kindly and even more so than she had previously. And I asked myself the question, seriously, if she could be bad enough to open and read my letter? When looking at herfair, round, and even jolly face, and hearing her pleasant words, I feared that I had done her great injustice by harboring a suspicion of her honesty, and that Josephine Melville might have made unjust insinuations against her. 'I hope you and your lover passed an agreeable evening,' she said, looking me full in the face, as if she would read my inmost thoughts. ' O, my dear, he is a most ex- cellent young man. I know hundreds of young ladies belonging to the first families in the city who would bless their stars if they could have h'im for a husband. You are, indeed, a fortunate girl, and I rejoice at your good fortune.' I could make no reply, for I knew not what to say, and remained silent. 'Why, my dear, you have not your new dress on.' she continued, apparently much surprised. 'It is intended for an every day dress, and you will soon have some much more costly and splendid. You must wear it.' ' I did not care about wearing it this morn- ing,' was my reply. 'I feel better in one of my old ones.' 'I suppose it feels rather close, but you will soon get used to it, and like it,' she said. 'It makes your form look so genteel that I can't bear to see you wear any other.' 'I must not attempt to become a city lady too soon," I replied. 'I am a poor country girl, and must govern myself accordingly.' Apoor country girl!' repeated the negro servant, laughing, in his peculiar manner.- 'A poor country girl! But young missus wi ,;Pon be at detop ob de ladder ob fashion! dat's a fact,.and I knows it.' ' 0; I don't feel much like becoming a fashionable lady,' I answered. 'I must not forget my poor mother, and the humble cot- tage in which I was born.' ' You need not forget those even after good fortune has raised you to the higher walks of life,' added the widow. 'How pleasant it would be to visit your mother in her humble home accompanied by a devoted and rich husband! How she would rejoice to see you under. such circumstances! I know what a mother's feelings are, for I had a daughter myself, but death took her away just as she was coming into full bloom! 'Ah, that was a sad blow upon my heart! But think you I should not have been pleased to f see her wedded to such a young man as s Carolus Cunard, if she had lived?' 'I suppose you would, as you so highly , esteem him,' I replied. r 'And, my dear; don't you highly esteem him?' she asked. t 'I have but a slight acquaintance with him,' I replied. But young missus will hab a better ac- quaintance wid him ion ob dese days, I Irlreckons,' said Jim, grinning, and showing his ivory. ' O, yes, no doubt of that, and then you will not only esteem him as I do, but love him deeply and sincerely,' added the widow, smiling. I was convinced that Josephine had stated one truth when she said the widow and the I negro had a perfect understanding with each other. I finished my breakfast and retired ! to my room to reflect upon the circumstances in which I was placed. Occasionally I walked into the hall to see if I could meet that girl again. O, I longed to have an un- disturbed interview with her, and hear the story of her life! But, .alas! I feared I should not be able to enjoy that privilege.- After going into the hall several times, at last I saw her coming down stairs with her bonnet and shawl on; I hastened towards her, but she motioned me back, and pointed her finger below, as much as to say,' it would not be safe for us to converse together.' She hurried down, the front door was opened, and she glided into the street. I now be- lieved my letter would be safely deposited in the post office, and so far was happy. Strange as this girl appeared, and fallen from virtue, as I had reason to believe she had; yet I had confidence in her, and fully believed she was my friend. I had more confidence in her than in any other person in the city, saving, perhaps, Captain Dun. Imore page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] The day passed and evening came, when I expected to receive another visit from my lover. I had hoped that Captain Dunmore had received my letter and would have called during the day; but I was disappointed.- He came not, neither had I seen Josephine since morning. Whether she had returned or not, I could not tell. I often listened, through the day to see if I could hear the cry of a child under that roof, but no such music fell upon my ears. I begun to enter- tain fearful apprehensions that she had aban- doned the house, and on that account I felt unusually sorrowful. To know that she was still in the house would have given me com- fort and support; but I knew not where she ,was. Twilight came, and in its faint shadows I stood before the hall was lighted, hoping that I might catch a glimpse of Josephine who now appeared really to be my guardian angel, I heard light foosteps, and she softly approached me. Grasping the sleeve of my dress with a trembling hand, she said, ' Your letter is safely deposited in the post office.- Take care of yourself. You understand.' And she glided away from my sight before I had time to make a reply or ask her a single question, which I should have been glad to do. I was rejoiced to know that she was in the house. In that knowledge there b was consolation and comfort, to my troubled soul. I entered my room, and soon the negro servant appeared with the big lamp which was to reveal my charms once more to my lover. O, how much 'I dreaded to see that- lamp! I had given him up, and his presence I dreaded. What a change in my feelings a few, short hours had made! I desired not to see him, but if he did come, I was resolved to obey the voice of my guardian angel.- b Upon that subject my mind was fully made n up. ib I To please the widow I had on my new y dress. The room was brilliantly lighted, and I threw myself into a chair, and thought of 1 home, and all its endearments, poor and -humble as it was. I had not sat -long be. X fore my lover entered the room, full of smiles, Iand appeared to be glad to see me. My i, conduct was rather more cold than usual.- He took a seat by my side, and. began to pour into my ear his flattering tales; but they had lost all their charms. I was deaf to the voice of love, so far as he was con- cerned, I now hated more than I loved him.. A great change, had come over me, and he noticed it, He threw his arm around my waist; but I flung him off with more muscu, lar strength than he supposed I possessed,-- He was angry, and threw out some threats, but soon recalled thpm and endeavored to apologize, saying I parent rudeness t for me.. I made r chair, and sat in si Again he attem] . many horrid word. : resisted all his atte and a determined - seemed to aid me the occasion. He tIli mu a v, .. used all the 'blandishments within his power; but without success. At last he took his leave, apparently disheartened. CHAPTER XV. Another change in the aspect of things.- Strange conduct at midnight. A man ar- rives with a letter Much excitement and some lying. The removal of the heroine. ANOTHER bright and beautiful morning broke upon the city, but it seemed to have no charms for me. I was summoned to breakfast; but there was a slight shadow on the countenance of the widow that convinced me she had been told all which occurred at my interview with Cunard last evening.- Her face was not so full of smiles as usual, and every moment I expected to hear some- thingfn the shape of a lecture. During the night I heard the voices of men, and the gig- gling of females. And I cautiously opened my door and heard in the hall, voices. It was past midnight. And O, how can I describe my emotions when I heard a female voice utter an oath and in the same breath laugh. I also smelt the smoke of a cigar.* The lamp burned dimly so that I could not dis- tinguish a person across the hall. 'Come, call for a bottle of Champaign,' said the female voice. ' I'm d- d thirsty.' 'Your'e drunk enough now,' replied a male voice. A sickness came over my soul, I gently closed the door, and got into bed- again.-- Light began to break upon my mind, and I feared I was in a bad house. I tried to sleep, but in vain. I was glad when the day dawned; for 1 believed I should see Captain Dunmore before the setting of the X sun. i r V- ,- 'I fear you did not rest well last night,' said the widow. 'You do not look quite so a bright as usual.' 'I did not sleep very well,' I replied. 'I I heard voices in the night which somewhat i disturbed me. I hope all is right, but I I must say I entertain some suspions that c greatly trouble me.' 'Suspicions of what?' she asked in a w tone of authority which she had never used before. 'That you 'have bad characters in your tr house,' I quickly replied. ' Iheard swearing, and by a female, too.' be '0, yes, I know,' she said. 'I have a an gentleman and his wife as boarders, whom I ke must send away. The wife drinks when- O i 3d ever she can get it. I pity her husband, for at he appears to be a very good sort of a man. -I presume you heard them, for the wife al, made some disturbance last evening.' e- O, yes, I heard 'em, too,' said Jim. ' She ie lubs liquor as she does her own eyes. It is g. a tousand pities, for she would be a good dd woman, but for drink.' is I made no reply; but did not fully be- ;e lieve what either of them said. My sus- :e picions were 'aroused, and every thing ap- h. peared in a different ;glit. The widow took e notice that I was much disquieted, and gov- s- erned herself accordingly. She was ex- ceedingly shrewd; but a jealous mind is not ,' easily quieted. The negro servant now left ' the room, and I thought he did so because a the widow gave him a sign. Of that, how- ever, I was not sure. 'I hope you will not let such things dis- - turb you,' she said. 'I must send away that I gentleman and his wife.' ' May there not be others whom you ought a to send away?' I asked, feeling more courage and resolution than I had ever before in her presence. A dark frown clouded her brow for a few moments, but she soon changed it to a smile, and said: ' Really, my dear, your mind seems to be filled with strange notions this morning. You must remember that we have to come in contact with all sorts of people in the city. It is very different from what it is in the country. And the boarding house keepers have a good many difficulties to contend with, more, it seems to me, than any body else. We are very often compelled to take boarders without being able to ascertain their true characters.' ' I remarked, that I supposed there might be a good deal of trouble in such business; and asked her if women did not sometimes keep bad houses.' ;I blush' for our sex, when I give you an page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] answer in the affirmative,'Ishe replied. 'I'm sorry to say it; but there are bad women in the city as well as bad men. But you need not be alarmed. I keep a respectable house, and turn away every one who does not prove to possess a good character.' 'I am glad to hear it; but I feel as if I must seek some other boarding house,' I said. 'I do not feel at home here.' 'O, -my dear, I expect you will change your residence ere many weeks shall have passed, and remove to a fine house with your husband.' 'I have not the most distant idea of mar- rying Mr. Cunard,' I replied. 'Never was I more astonished in my life!' she exclaimed, raising her hands, and gazing upon, me. 'Not marry him! Why, my dear, you must be decidedly crazy! Not marry him! 1 never heard any thing so strange!' ' Would you wed a man you didn't love?' I asked. ' You can't help loving such a good, smart, rich fellow,' she replied. 'Yes, yes, you will love him; he isdevoted to you. I know you will love him.' I assured her I saw not the least prospect of it, adding that the more I saw him the less I liked him. 'I have known young ladies to feel and talk just as you do who have married the men they once thought they almost hated, and loved them most ardently. Love fre- quently works in that way. It is a very peculiar passion of our nature. Why, my dear, I can speak from actual experience.- When I was courted by him who afterwards became my husband I thought I could never love him in the world. For months he grew less and less in my esteem; but all at once my heart changed and I loved him most sin- cerely. And a happier couple ever lived on earth. I shall never forget those days?' 'I shouldn't suppose you would,' I replied. 'But I don't feel as if I desired to cultivafe any further acquaintance with Cunard, and I wish yon would e1ll him so the first time you see him.' '0, no, I can never tell him of that, for it would fall with terrible weight upon his heart,' she replied. 'I esteem him highly, and he has been such a good friend to me that I cannot consent to be the bearer of such heart-rending news to him. And O, let me entreat you, my dear girl, to reflect seriously before you make such a declaration to him. Be patient, and heaven will order every thing for the best.' She said no more, and I left the table, hoping that heaven would so order events, that Captain Dunlmore miaht come that verv day. Its sent from to see hin. whether Ii to think I happy witl excited by never felt . blacksmit] to write. have been glad to see him. I concluded I would write as soon as I removed to another boarding place, which I was resolved to do whether I ever saw Captain Dunmore again, or not. But I felt an instinctive impression that he would call upon me, and take me from that house. Having ascended the stairs on the way to my room, I saw my guardian angel at the farther end of the hall, looking through a window into the street. She heard me coming, and turned' away from the window. We met about midway of the hall. Her eyes were wet with weeping, and her bosom heaved with violent emotions. Her coun- tenance had a wild look, and my blood ran cold in my veins, for she really seemed like a crazy person. '0, God!' she said, as she grasped my hand. ' Our troubles are somewhat alike, only you have not yet fallen. We both ex- pect men to see us. Your friend will come, but I fear I never shall see mine again!- Two weeks have now passed, and he has not come! When he saw me last, he said he should be absent from the city one week only, and then he would call'! But I must say no more!' And 'she glided away before I could say a word in reply. Ah! now all was plain to me. She had been seduced, and was for- saken by her false-hearted lover, at least, such were my conjectures. I entered my chamber, and gave myself up to the most bitter reflections. I almost forgot my own condition and circumstances in my reflec- tions upon this girl's situation. She looked wild, and fearfully desperate, I had not been long in my room, before I heard the door-bell ring. I hastened to the head of the stairs, and stood and listened. From my position I could hear what might be said, -Te negro went to the door, and a gentle- . man entered, I trembled with anxiety; for I hoped I should soon hear the voice of Capt. Dunmore. 'I have a letter fQr Miss Martin, who Jr boards-here,' said the man. 'No sich lady lib here,' replied the lying n servant. ' You must I tink hab mistaken Ae house.' 'No, this is the house, for the number is upon the letter,' the man replied. ri 'Ah, she did board here, but she went ha away todder day, to some house in anodder to street. It appears to me it. was Hanover th 'Street,' said Jim. ' Where's the mistress?' asked the man. At that moment the widow came along, and I was on the point of rushing dow4i, but thought I would listen a moment and hear if th she would also lie. the ke ' Who did you inquire for, sir? asked the widow. ny 'A girl by the name of Louise Martin,' :e, replied the man. x- ' She was here, but she went away yester- e, day, I think,' said the widow. ' I believe it was yesterday now I tink of ot it more,' said the deceitful servant. 'e 'I believe you both utter falsehoods,' said !k the man. st 'No white man shall accuse me of dat wid impunity,' said the negro, stepping to- wards the man, and brandishing his brawny fists. r The gentleman pulled a revolver from his t, pocket, and presented it to Jim s breast, Y saying, 'you are a dead nigger if you ap- it proach another step.' Jim stood inhis tracks, n and 1 rushed down stairs. 'My name is Louise Martin,'Iexclaimed, running towards the man, who gave me the letter, which U hurriedly opened. The man f then opened the door, and two other men stepped in whose presence together with the revolver, aforesaid, made the burly negro quiet as a lamb, and the widow hung her head. The letter was from Captain Dun- more, requesting me to accompany the bearer to a house prepared for me. It was most joyful news to me. 'I will go immediately,' I said. 'A few minutes will serve me to pack my trunk' ' I trust you will not depart until you have paid your board bill,' said the widow. ' How much is it?' I asked, taking the rings from my fingers which young Cunard had placed upon them, and presenting them to her. Here take these, and I thank heaven they are not the price of my shame. "Your bill is ten dollars,' said the widow, receiving the rings, and looking cross. I was amazed at such a price for two or three day's board, and the man who brought the letter saw my- astonishment, and said. page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] 'The young woman shall not pay that out. rageous bill.' 'How do you know, sir, the bill is out- rageous?' asked the widow, 'Keep quiet, and say nothing about the bill, or you may find quarters in a street not far distant,' said the man The words had the effect the man in- tended; for the widow hung her head, and made no reply. She feared the prison, and knowing her conduct rendered her liable to such a punishment. The negro had retreated back several steps, for he seemed to have great fear of the revolver which the man still held in his hand. 'I'm willing to pay a reasonable price for my board,' I said. ' Not a cent,' added the man. 'Let the young rascal pay it who conducted you here.' The widow was silent, and I hastened up stairs to pack my trunk. Soon as 1 reached the hall, I saw Josephine who had been listening. She seized my hand and said, 'God bless you'l A lucky day for you?- Write me, and direct your letter to Eliza- beth Moore, for that is my real name.' Slipping a piece of paper into my hand on which was written her real name, in pencil, she run up stairs and I saw her no more.- My trunk was soon ready, and one of the men brought it down. My new dress I had left in the chamber, for that I would not take for worlds. I hated the sight'of it, and yet it was very beautful. You can give that new dress to him who paid for it,' I said to the widow; 'It is in the chamber where you will find it, and I thank heaven I am never to wear it again.' 'But where is the gold watch and chain,' slhe said. In my excitement I had entirely forgotten that, and told her it was upon the bureau, for I had not worn them that day. ' Where they a present to you?' asked the man. 'The young man gave them to me; but I don't want them,' I replied. ' You must take them, 'or the widow will t keep them and say you ran away with them,' he replied. - I had rather not,' I said. ' I don't want such presents.' The negro now hastened up stairs, closely followed by the man with the revolver. The servant intended to secure the watch and chain for his mistress. 'Stop, you black rascal, or I'll put a bullet through your wooly head,' said the man.- ' I shall take these articles myself, and give them to the owner.' Jim stopped as st " against the .wall of I soon brought down them upon me; bul 'Keep them and villain who gave thi I reluctantly too: give them back, if. to do so. A carri waiting to take m house. I entered 1 ct;cunipaniea ny tne man who brought me the letter. He was a stout, burly looking man, with black whiskers almost covering the lover part of his face. He wore a snuff brown-colored coat, bright buttons, and fancy vest and pants. He smelt strong of rum, and I did not fancy him much, yet he treated me very kindly, and even politely. 'Captain Dunmore will be delighted to see you he said.' 'Why didn'the come himself?' I asked, wondering why he did not. 'He did not wish to be seen going to such a house as that widow keeps, and so hired me,' he answered. 'I will conduct you safely to a nice place, where you can live in peace and quietness. You are very fortunate in finding such a friend as the Captain.- He is a glorious fellow, and has money enough.' 'Glorious fellow!' I repeated to myself.- I thought that was a singular phrase to be applied to such a man as I considered the Captain, but I said nothing. 'The Captain has provided an excellent place for you; but I suppose he will give you a better one in the course of a few weeks,' he continued. ' I didn't once think he would ever be married; but I don't blame him now I have seen your face.' ' I believe this city is full of flatterers,' I remarked. 'You must not reckon me in that category,' he replied-smiling. 'I spoke but my honest sentiments. I should be somewhat inclined to marriage myself, if the State of Maine would send up another such a girt as you v are.' 'There, that will do,' I replied. 'I should i suppose that you are a married man. It is very strange, it you are not, when there are so many beautiful ladies in the city.' 'There are many ladies in the city, but few beautiful ones compared with the whole, number,' he replied. 'I always knew Capt. 'lDtwo re had an eye for beauty, and now I b have before me additional proof.' 'Don't lay it on so thick,' I said, feeling really sick of hearing such fulsome compli- ments. 'I'm not so easily flattered as you w may imagine. It is enough to say I look in better than some and not so well as others.' p 'I beg your pardon, young woman, but te that is not enough to say, for the truth re- a quires more,' he said. 'However, let that' pass. 'You have brought your beauty to'a'j glorious market. Capt. Dunmore will make co the kindest husband woman ever had, and ha he has got the money, too.' w 1 made no reply. The'carriage was driven along, and it seemed to me that we were sr going a great distance, and turning many ' corners. The streets seemed very crooked. bri te At last we stopped in front of a house in -Lincoln Street. The man assisted me to ey alight, and conducted me to the door, up a flight of steps. Le CHAPTER XVI. it The new home. The contrast. A singular e housekeeper. The effects of physical de- w formities. Another phase of human na- ture. The progress of events, 4-c. I AN elderly woman came to the door. Her age might have been fifty, and possibly more. ' Her face was quite thin, her skin somewhat t wrinkled, and her gray eyes, sharp and !ercing. Her form was far from being pleasing or symmetrical; for she was some- I what humpbacked, and quite low of stature. She was nearly a head shorter than women in general. Yet her motions were quick and her countenance expressive of much energy and perseverance. She wore a neat cap up- on her head and spectacles upon her nose, which was rather thin and sharp. At the first sight of her I was not very favorably impressed. After opening the door, and before she bid me walk in, she took a large pinch of snuff, which she seemed to relish remarkably well. 'Is this the yonrig lady Captain Dunmore wishes me to board?' she asked, peering full into my face through her spectacles, and placing her face close to mine as if she in- tended to see the particular color of my eyes and the texture of my skin. ' This is the young lady,' replied the man. 'And don't you think she'll do? Don't she come fully up to the description the Captain has given of her, even enthusiastic as lie was?' 'I 'reckon she does,' replied the woman, smiling, and taking another pinch of snuff. 'Walk in, young woman, and the driver will bring in your trunk.' page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] I followed her into a hall, and then up a flight of stairs, expecting every moment to meet my protector, Captain Dunmore, but he did not appear. This short, bright, ac- tive woman conducted me into a small, neatly furnished room. There was nothing gaudy or splendid about this snug apartment but every thing wore the aspect of neatness and comfort. It seemed to be a very dif- ferent order of affairs from that I had just left. Here was nothing for show, but every thing for comfort and convenience. My trunk was soon brought up, and deposited in the room designed for my occupation. This apartment was small, and a neat little bed, covered with a counterpane as white as snow, stood in one corner of the roomUj- There were three cane-bottomed chairs, a small dressing-table under a small gilt framed mirror, and a cherry-tree wood bureau on the opposite side. The floor was carpetted, and all seemed nice and convenient, and contrasted strangely with the spacious room I had been occupying. No gaudy curtains adorned the bed or hung at the windows-,- The apartments of the house reminded me of mother's humble dwelling, and I felt com- paratively happy. I regretted that the wo. man was hunch-backed, and wished she had been made taller, but nevertheless, she ap- peared exceedingly active and kind. When she conducted me to the room I was to oc- cupy, she told me her name was Beulah Tuttle, 'generally called Aunt Tuttle,' she said, smiling, and taking a pinch of snuff.-- i'm afraid you will think^your room is too small; but I'm not able to have a large one. We who live in the city are obliged to economize, rents and fuel come so high.' 'I like the room exceedingly well,' I re- plied. 'I would not wish for a larger one; and besides, every thing is neat and con- venient. I have always been accustomed to living in a small house.' ' Not recently,' said the woman, smiling, and taking another pinch of snuff. '0, I thank heaven, that I have escaped from that boarding house!' I said. 'And you may thank Capt. Dunmore, too,' added Aunt Tuttle. 'I do thank him,' was my reply, wishing to ask her if he would come there soon; but, feeling too modest and bashful to make the inquiry. ' Ah, the Captain is a worthy man, and a generous one too,' she added. ' He has al- ways been a good friend to me. I once lived in his father's family, but that was a good many years ago. His father has been dead several years; but he left a large estate which the Captain now owns. His father followed the seas, and so did the Captain, until he came into possession, of so much property on the death of his father.' 'It is very strange he has not married long ago,' I said; fe" - - ' more of his history. ' Well, I have all that he lived single find a woman wh replied, winking he assuming an arch 1( has found one now. Aunt Tuttle took looked me full in the .O, auu I reinmiuea silent. 'I don't wonder he is not suited,' she con- tinued, after a short pause. 'What beauti- ful curls your hair makes, and how handsome your eyes are! I used to have very long, fine hair; but the frosts of age are upon it now.' 'Time will have the same effect upon my locks,' I added) beginning to think it was an universal custom in the city to flatter. I had never witnessed so much of it in all my life as I had within a few days. Aunt. Tuttle now left me, and 1 arranged my things, wondering how long I should occupy that snug neat room, and conjecturing what might be my fate.. It is true, that Captain Dun- more now seemed to. be the greatest friend I had on earth, except my mother, and, per- haps, I might add except Stebbins, the young blacksmith, whose love for me I had reasons to believe was deep and ardent. In all my excitements I could not wholly forget him; for he was the first man who ever declared his love to me. Soon as I ascertained that I had a permanent boarding place, 1 intended to write him according to my promise.- After seriously reflecting upon my new situa- tion, and my prospects for the future, I re- p'aired to the sitting room, where I found the industrious woman doing up some caps and laces, which were very nice and expensive. She noticed that I was examining her work n very closely, and anticipated my feelings. i 'These are not my things,'she said.-- 'I'm not able to wear such costly articles.- 1 I do them up for several ladie's who pay me s well for it.' They are very nice, and I perceive you s know how to make them look still nicer,' I replied. 'I ought to know how, for I have practiced s long enough,' she added. 'I have received u a good deal of money for such work, and b expect to receive a good deal more before fl I die.' p ' Where you never married?' I modestly w inquired. a 'Don't you see the deformity on my back?' t she asked, while a cloud passed over her bE face, and her eyes were expressive of indig- el nant feelings. st 'I see a small hunch, but thal's nothing,' er I replied m 'Nothing, eh?' she repeated, gazing full ea into my face, and running her eyes over my in form. 'Suppose you had such an one on cc your back, think you that Captain Dunmore tw would feel such a deep interest for you as he wi now feels? O, no, he would have looked I at you but once, and then turned his eyes, H id away. Your handsome face and bright hair r- could not have saved you in his estimation. ig And the world is full of just such men.- is Married, forsooth! O, no, never married.- y No men, such as I would have. would have ; me, and those who would have me, the devil d wouldn't have. Excuse me for being thus, it earnest. The hunch upon my back, has d soured my mind, and gave nre' prejudices - which I cannot always conquer. No matter i- how handsome the face of a woman maybe, - no matter how bright her intellect, or good e her heart, if she hasja, physical deformity d upon her back, or elsewhere, no man fit for a husband will take her for a wife. And yet k deformed men don't hesitate to offer them- sees as candidates for women's favors, and - are often received. You must excuse me, -for my feelings are always embittered by such reflections.' 'Then I would not indulge in them,i I said. 'We can't always govern our feelings' she replied. 'My age ought to keep down such emotions; but what is bred in the bone will come out in the flesh. But my hunch- back is not the only source of embittered re- flections. I was an only daughter, and my parents quite wealthy. They died when I was eighteen years of age, leaving me with a snug fortune. Of course I had admirers then notwithstanding the deformity upon my back. O, yes, there are fortune-hunters enough in the city. Well, to make a long story short, one fine looking gentleman, sev- ,eral years my senior, paid his addresses to me, and expressed great love for me. My ears were open to his flattering tales. I drank in the sweet inusic, and placed ihe utmost confidence in him. Our courting lasted over twelve months, much' longer than some widows mourn the death of their husbands. I fancied I loved him, and I suppose I did. He was artful, smooth, and even fascinating page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] in his manners, and gained full control over me. He so managed that I gave him power over my estate, which he sold, converted into gold and silver, sailed for Europe, and that 'is the last I have ever heard of him. O, how bitterly have I reproached myself for being thus bewildered and led astray by an accompisbed scoundrel.' hestopped her woik, while Y-elating this brief story of her life, one hand nervously clenching a small flat iron and the other sup- plying her nose with snuff. Her eyps snap- ped, and almost emitted sparksj bf fire ; her bosom heaved, her lips quivered, and her voice was tremrlous. I shall never forget her appearance at that time. She was so agitated that stle raised herself upon her tip- toes, and seemed anxious to be tall enoohh to look over the -whole world. A few extra, pinebes' of snu&f seemed to quiett her nerves. There, it is of no use for me thus to live my life over again,' she continued, after quite a long pause. I But when I reflect upon the character of men I always feel deeply agitatedd' 'I trust you do not view all men as being alike, do you P' I inquired. OO no, there are a few honorable excep- tions, she replied. I Atnd I believe Captain Dunmore isone. He ha'salways been rich, been much over the world, seen ladies of all countries, and yet has never been married.- -Now I believe, if he ever marries, it will be from genuine love, and nothing else.' H fe is quite old to think of being married noW'.I said. I should rather have him if he were as old as Methusaleh, than to have any young m'an I know of in this city,' she replied.- I Almost all the young men here have bad habits of one kind or another. O, you have made a lucky escape from young Cunard.-- True, his father is rich, but his son is a gam- bler, and a libertine. Lot him have full swing with his father's mone', and it wouldn't last very long I canl assure yrou.' I I now fullv concurred in all this' woman Said in relation to young Cunard, and had reason to be thankful for my escape from his power. It seemed to me that a kind Provi- idence bad thus protected me, and sent Capt, Dunmore to guard me from all harm. I felt comparatively happy in' my new location.-- It is true that I wishedi Aunt Tuttle was ai different woman in somne Irespects. I felt a: sort of dread of her notwithstanding all her apparent kindness. She seemed to me to be a person of terrible temper, especially when her feelings were aroused. Already I bad seen one specimen of her temperament that made me tremble; and yet I could pardon her for such a demonstration when I reflected upon the wrongs she bad suffered at the bands of a pretended H-- 1%T - spirit could feel caln stances ; and I could i; to blame her for indulE, tion of feeling. And to exercise that calm ( 1 always witnessed in : suffered much on accoi my father, and the pin which wtas always u] would 'have been a g4 - -i r u husband, but for the, fascinating power of strongdrinks. They, made himwhat he was and hurried him into, a premature grave. My mother was an ambitious woman, and when she married, hier, prospects were bright and her hopes bouyant. 1Fo'r some years after marria, e my parents prospered, and acquired a snug little estatit for a country village-; but the Dernot of In- temperance came into our, windows like a destroying angel, and soon his bloody tracks were visible in our household. I was uite young when the Destroyer came ; but not too young to see his devastating work. True, I did not see it in that clear light in which my good mother viewed it, and could,not trlabeall its evil consequences as she did; yet I saw enough to make my young heart sad and sorrowful. A'as yet, Atint Tuttle had not said a word in relation to Captain Dunmore's calling, and I' began to feel a'nxious to know when I: might expect to see him ; but a sort of bash- ful spirit prevented me from asking her. It seemed strange that she did not speak 6f his coming, 'but Dot a word upon the subject escaped her lips. Sometimes I thou ght she purposely avoided, it ; and yet I could see no reason for it, and supposed I must be mistaken. I spent a portion of my time; alone until dinner was ready. There was no negro, servant to wait upon me, and sum- mons me to dinner, instead of being a source of disquietude to me, that was a relief; for V with servants to wait upon in , I fel" uc out of my eletnent. At a seasonable hour I was summoned to dinner., The table was neatly spread anda' the Viiands good. We had no luxuries, such a as I had been accustomed to while atmyS other boarding house, and I was glad of it.- i Plain.) -sim'pl fare suited me best, for. it best i corresponded with my condition in life. II dot, know'as you will like my dinner, said Aunt Tuttle. But I can asuey PS of one thing, a slattern didn't cook it.) pi 'I, like your dinner much' I replied, if , ' And your last remrark wzis quite needless, h for I fiav'e already seen enough to satisfy in I that neatness characterizes all the affairs of d your household.1 cl Well, I hope ',you won't accuse -me of O' vanity when I say I profess to be cleanly in si my, house,' she replied. si "Indieed I shall n 1, I was my ready and hari truthf, answer. 'You remind me of my mother.' I I topesbe has not a hunch on her back,' she added' with some feeling. "eh Whenever she alluded to that deformity, not her mind seemed to be agitated and her id ; spirit-troubled. art I shouldn't think of that unless you spoke of it,' I replied, hoping she would never )rd mention it again' in my hearing; for when 19i she did', the expression of her face was far I-from beiug; agreeable. Lwas almost willing 7-to take that hunch upon my own backr and Ithear the burden for the sake of relieving her 'is from such an' annoyance, if the thing bad 'et been possible., ie Ab, Ifeel very sore on that point, but !e never mind,' 'She answered. I I won't annoy )e you and myself, too. 1v'e seen a good devil ie of human life, and perhaps, I don't think so ShBblyIJ of human nature as some do who "htebeen more prosperous. I have had 'a e a hard life, and seen a good deal of trouble, Lwhich, no doubt,' has embittered my heart h -ad soured my feelings. But there is a great deal of wicktedness in the world., mbeh more than you dream of. Men, and women, too, are selfish. The selfish principle is the main. spring of' human actions.' I told her I hoped there Cvas 'some virtue in the world, even pure virtanloydb tthat selfish principle to which -she alluded. 'There may be, but I have seen but a few specimens of it since I have been on the stage of action,.' she replied, taking a large pinch of snuf andt drawing; irr-her breath as if she intended the article should be sent to the most remote pQaris of her nose. We finished our dinners, and I assisted in clearing oir the table to which she did not object, but seemed to be 'pleased with my help. She commendpd. my industry, and said I must have a god mother, I waq so Als handrry in such do Umestie work. page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] o , , CHAPTER XVII. ,I, Suspicions haunt the heroine. Mystery upon mystery. The power of custom and habit. The midnight murder. Gambling. The conflagration, d4c. AFTER I had assisted Aunt Tuttle in ar- ranging her domestic affairs, I retired to my little room to commune with my own thoughts, and to wonder what would next happen to me. I thought it strange that the Captain did not call, and began to fear that his love for me had cooled. Yes, I feared that; for then I felt as if I could only look up to him for protection. His image was impressed upon my heart, and I could not disguise or conceal the fact from mys even if I had been thus disposed. I re- membered young Cunard, only to hate him, and feel grateful that I had been thus for- tunately rescued from his power. But I re- membered that strange girl, Josephine Mel- ville, or Elizabeth Moore, whatever might be her real name, with far different feelings and emotions. I was anxious to learn more about the story of her life. I had just heard enough to make me exceedingly anxious for more. 'Hers was a character I could not comprehend. There was yet a mystery hanging over her which I was anxious to penetrate, and resolved to write to her very soon. Should I write, she might call and see me, and then we could have an unin- terrupted interview. I longed to see her al- most as much as I did to see Captain Dun- more, but for quite different reasons. I also endeavored to study the character of the wo- man in whose care I was placed. Many traits which she had developed during our brief acquaintance were shrouded in mystery, and I could not fathom them. I confess I indulged some suspicions; .and yet she did not appear to be that smooth hypocrite which the widow Topway had turned out to be.- Her character was totally different from that deceitful and wicked woman's; but after all, there was a mystery about her which my mental accumen could not penetrate; conse- quently, I was somewhat troubled in mind and spirit. Aunt Tuttle, having a few leisure moments, 'came into my room and sat down. She was then in good humor, and very pleasant.- The burden upon her back did not seem to haunt her imagination, nor awaken, those torturing and corroding feelings of her heart which at other moments troubled her. ' Well, my dear, how do you enjoy your- self in your new home?' she asked, smiling, and taking an enormous pinch of snuff. 'Very well, indeed,' I replied. 'I feel much happier than I did a few hours ago, when I was in that bad house.' 'I should think me her large snuff-Y pinch? It is excell, place where I purce I thanked her, at I was not accustom 'Well, your'e ri don't think snuff and they say it inju 'and voice. But m;y . . ..v v.. z , beauty, and my voice its music, so I don't care. Once, my skin was very smooth and fair, and my hair was dark and shining as yours; but time has wrinkled the one and frosted the other.' I assured her she looked well then not- withstanding the ravages of time. ' If time had worn down the hunch on my back as well as the furrow on my cheeks and blanched my hair, I might have been better satisfied; but let that pass,' she said. 'I wish not to make you a partaker of my sor- rows. It is enough for me to bear them my- self. I suppose you feel somewhat-anxious to see your devoted Captain. He told me he was obliged to leave town on business of importance and might not be back until to- morrow, so you must not be disappointed if ,you don't see him to-day. Soon as he re turns he will be here without fail. I. could not help laughing to see how anxious he was when engaging your board with me. He told me I must be prepared to see the most beautiful girl my eyes ever beheld.' I regret that he prepared your mind for such a disappointment as you must have felt when you first saw. me,' I said. 'And how do you know I was disappoint- ed?' she asked, adjusting her spectacles taking a pinch of snuff, and peering into my face. ' Because I think by the aid of your glasses you must perceive that you have seen hundreds of more beautiful girls than I am.' She shook her head, put another pinch to her nose, run her hand over my shoulders, felt of my waist, and examined me as closely as a slave-holder would a quadroon he was bout to purchase, or a jockey a horse in the market. I remained silent, and let her go through with her examination; but I could not helpsmiling at her manifestations, for she seemed to be determined to know whether I was flesh or blood, or not. 'I say the Captain was right, and I am not disappointed,' she said. 'You are, taking f every thing into consideration just about the handsomest girl I ever saw. And I like you all the better because you know how to do I house-work. I don't suppose, however, the Captain will let you do much work, neither pI do I. want you to do much, but once in be a while you can help me a little if you It please.' th ' I had rather help you than not,'I replied. th 'I have always bedl used to work, and. enjoy it. An idle 1e is a very miserable sn one.' 'So it is,' she added. If I had money enough to load a ship, as the Captain has, u, I should not be happy in idleness. No, no, i industry of some kind is essential to human happiness.' I Id ' I believe all that to be perfectly true,' as I replied. I came to this city for the pur- [e pose of working, and am willing to work.' st 'I like your disposition,' she said. 'But' you may depend upon 'it the Captain will )r not suffer you to soil your hands with much It work. When you are married and become the mistress of his splendidly furnished t- house, your time will be employed in di- s, recting your servants, and seeing that every Y thing is in place, and that every thing has a place. You and he will also journey to r fashionable places, and no doubt you will go a east and see your mother. And you must not be surprised if the Captain insists in brining her to the city to live with you.- /Pl a brilliant career is before you, and ' many happy days are in store for you.' 'I didn't think of being married when I started on my journey to this city, I replied.; feeling flattered with the prospects painted by this queer woman. 'I suppose not; but you are mortgaged now, and no mistake,' she replied, laughing, and cramming more snuff into her thin nose. I think all the dressmaking you will ever learn will be learned by seeing your own fine dresses rpade. The Captain really smiled when you spoke of your learning such an art. I told him I would learn you to do up laces, caps, and muslins.' ' I should like to learn very well,' I re- plied. ' The time may come when I shall' be glad to engage in such an employment. It is always best to know how to work so that if wants come upon us we can supply them by our labor.' 'You talk like a sensible girl,' she said, smiling, and chucking me under the chin in a, very familiar and good-natured manner.-A- 'Young ladies who are beautiful do not usually think much bf work, especially those in the city. They think more of standing before a looking-glass than they do of wash. ing dishes.' page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] I told her it might be so, and lamented the fact. Soon she went out, and left me to my own reflections. That interview had raised her in my estination, and still there was a mystery hanging over her. She ap- peared to be very frank and sincere in all she said; but I had been thus praised by one woman who had proved a hypocrite, and felt a degree of suspicion when those praises were- renewed by another woman.- And what made me the more suspicious was the fact that this woman seemed to follow in the tracks which the widow Topway had made. The same praises which Aunt Tuttle be- stowed so, lavishly upon the Captain, the widow had bespattered young Cunar dth. But after all, I was unwilling to belielat Aunt Tuttle was really such a wicked, de- ceitful woman as the widow turned out to be. Their situation and circumstances were to- tally different. Here this woman lived alone and occupied but a part of a house, cheaply, but neatly furnished, while the other lived in grand style, occupying a spacious house, h and having many inmates. A' burnt child dreads the fire, and it is not strange that 1 f should be Qn the look-out for breakers as I was now on the ocean of city life, navigating t alone, and without the advice and direction t of my natural guardian, the mother who gave " me birth. The day passed, and evening came, but p no Captain Dunmore made his appearance. r I was got greatly disappointed, because I jI knew the cause of his absence. I thanked c my stars when twilight fell upon the city, that no negro servant was to bring a 'large t lamp into my room and place it on a centre se table to show my, person to a young liber- si tine. From such an annoyance I had made so my escape, and most cheerfully did I pass the evening with the hunch-backed woman; yes,. cheerfully, when compared with the m evening previous. d At an early hour I retired, for I was much O fatigued, and needed rest. My room was a d front one, and the windows opened upon the e street. There were green blinds upon the '" outside of the windows, and plain white "muslin curtains upon the inside. The room, Y though small, waS a pleasant one. I slept , soundly the first'part of the night; but just after midnight, I heard the report of a pistol, - and the cry of murder in the street under s the windows of my room. Soon many voices were heard as if several people had collected. I arose, threw open the window and saw a group of men standing upon the sidewalk, and a person lying down, apparently in much distress. I was alarmed, and yet desired to know what the trouble was. The group stood near a lamp-post, and the light of the lamp over their heads enabled me to see them quite distinctly., Soon, Aunt Tuttle came running i stood at the open 'I reckon one he can well beai report of the pist for him.' 'I heard the thinking it strange ter so lightly. '] murdered?' 'Nothing more likely,' she replied, ap- parently indifferent. There's a parcel of rowdies and gamblers who are in a house just below here every night, Sundays not ex- cepted.' ' I guess the fellow will live,' said one of the men below. *te deserved a pretty severe shot, for heeheated a man most shamefully at the sar i table where I was sitting. I saw the trick at the time, and as soon as the one cheated found it out he swore he would shoot him, and followed him out.' 'Who is the man shot?' inquired another man in a grum voice, as hef(ame up to the crowd. 'Carolus Cunard,' replied the first speaker. But I guess' the fellow won't die.' '0, gracious heavens!' I mentally ex- claimed. 'Who did he say it was?' asked my housekeeper. 'I could hardly speak at first, but finally told her who the wounded man was. 'Well, you would have been compelled to have served him just so, if you had not thus luckily escaped from his power. He's a great gambler and libertine. Iv'e often heard of the young rascal,' she said. We now heard the groans of the wounded man while two men were raising him up, and a third called a carriage. 'The scoundrel hasn't killed me yet,' said ( Cunard. 'Where is he? Let me have one shot at him before you take me away.' s 'He's good grit,' said one who stood at a short distance from the crowd that had li collected. 'It does not take long to gather s a crowd here, even at midnight.' h 'Yes, but if the bullet had gone two a inches farther to the right, he would have packed up for the other world before this b time,' answered a voice. af 'A miss is as good as a mile,' said an w other, laughing. la ' Not exactly this time,' said Aunt Tuttle; T 'for the fellow is badly wounded and may th yet bleed to death.' CI My blood was almost frozen in my veins, cc and I could scarcely speak I was so much co agitated. I had never witnessed such an ex- W hibition before, and desired not to witness mi another. But Aunt Tuttle seemed to take fr the iole affair as cooly as though it wasI i but an6ifery day occurrence. m 'What a dreadful. thing it is!' I said, in A a voice' of trembling. he 'Well, it is a bad business, but if the ant gamblers will shoot each other, let 'em,' she I a replied. 'The more they kill each other, the better it will be for the community.' aft( er. There might be truth in the remark, but it seemed strange to me that a woman could x- speak of such a tragedy with such cold in- difference. While I trembled in every Oy muscle, she looked calmly on and thought no more of it than she would the shooting y of a dog in the street. Such indifference appeared strange to me. The wounded Cunard was placed in a carrriage and driven off. a 'He'll not gamble again very seon,' said d Aunt Tuttle. 'He needs a doctor now more than he does a woman.' d 'I hope his wound is not mortal,' I ', said. 'Why not?' she asked. 'He does more d haltalive than he could if he was dead.' 3 He's not fit to die,' I replied, feeling strange emotions agitating my heart. t- 'There's truth in that; but the longer h9 I lives the more unfit to die he will become,' r she said. 'I think it is about as well to have such fellows killed off, and' then there's an end of them.' She turned away and sought her own bed, leaving me to ponder on the tragical affair alone.- I did ponder upon it, and wished I was at home in my own quiet vil- lage, where such scenes seldom occur.- Thanking heaven for my deliverance from the power of such a young man as Carolus Cunard, I threw myself upon the bed and courted sleep ;but hours passed before I could again close my eyes in slumber.-. When I did drowse, the fancied cry of murder would arouse me, and drive sleep far from my eyes. Towards morning, however, I fell into a slun'ber which greatly calmed: ,my nerves. I arose early, but not before Aunt Tuttle was up and busying herself in her house affairs. Shewas an early riser, and even took several pinches of snuff before I awoke. ; 'Well, young woman, how did you sleep after witnessing the scene last night?' she page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] asked, while she was placing her tea-kettle in the stove, and preparing for our frugal morning meal. ' Not well,' I replied. ' I could not drive the horrid scene from my thoughts.' 'I suppose not, but you will soon become accustomed to city life,' she said. But not to murders I trust,' was my an- swer. ' Yes, to murders, fires, rows, and all sorts of things1' she replied. 'Large cities con- tain the offscourings of all creation, and you must expect such scenes among such actors. The drama of human life is full of strange scenes. And you mustn't be surprised at any thing.* If the rascals don't kill n I shall not cry at their murdering each olr. The bells now rung for fire, and large crowds soon collected in the street. ' By heavens, the fire is near ' exclaimed this woman, running to the window and lookingvout. . lefoioloa e ot r as fast as I could; but aged as slsas she could outrun me in spite of all iicould do. 'Yes, see there,' she said, pointing to the opposite side of the street several doors be- low. 'The fire is in that house, and the flames are bursting from the roof!' 'Andare we not in danger?' I anxiously inquired.,- !? O0 no,' she. replied. ' he air is still, and the engines will soon get the flames un- der; . It may burn only that building, and no matter if it burns that.' 'Why so?' I asked, gazing upon the flames as they angrily shot up from the roof. 'That is the house where they gambled last night, she replied. 'Good luck! Let it burn! It is a bad house in other respects, bad women live there as well as bad men. I say, let it burn. I'm glad of it. -Now the water flies, and I'm really afraid they will put out the flames ' She went back, and I remained gazing up. on the crowd, hearing the noise and feeling , much alarmed. The house burnt down, but the adjoining buildings were saved, and but slightly injured. It was the first building on fire I had ever seen, and I did not desire to see another. CHAPTER XVIII. Impatience at the absence of a lover. Think- ing of love makes it. The happy inter- view. Its results faintly shadowed forth. Tle ride. Prospects ahead, 4'c. I PASSED another day, and the Captain did not come. In a penny paper which Aunt Tuttle bought of a newsboy, I read the account of the shot The affair was desc and all, if not more bear was paraded in per, and headed by rogation points. N, nessed 'was fully c gambling and cheati Cunard was sever wounded. The man who perpetrated the deed could not be found, and a reward was offered for his apprehension. Several times I read over the account until I could almost repeat every word of it. The watch and chain belonging to Cunard I had kept in my trunk, and Aunt Tuttle knew not that I was in possession of such articles. My only wish was that he had them; for I would have as soon worn ser. pent round my neck as that watch :i I placed it at the bottom of my trunk lo that I could not see it. The curtains of night were drawn over the city. The lamps were turning , and thousands were hurrying to and fro in the streets. The evening was pleasant and every body seemed to be out enjoying themselves I sat at an open window watching the tides of humanity as they flowed along the side- walks. It seemed to me that I saw several gentlemen in the light of the street lamps who looked very much like Capt. Dunmore, and my heart beat violently. I saw more than a hundred who I fancied would stop in front of the house and come in; but they 'hurried along to other places of destination, and the man whom of all others I hoped to see did not come. I began to fear some ac- cident had happened to him. I said within myself, that he, too, might be shot, and even murdered. It 'seemed to me the city was not a safe place for any one. My nerves were exceedingly agitated, more so than they ever had been before. 1 feared and trembled. Were these symptomps of love? I could not 'tell. I was so bewildered I scarcely knew where I was. At one time I almost imagined I was in a dream. At that moment Aunt Tuttle brought a small lamp into the room whose feeble rays revealed my agitated countenance to the keen eyes of the house- keeper. 'He has not come yet,' I said, involunta- rily, scarcely knowing what I did say. 'Ah, my dear, thet sound of your voice convinces me more than any thing I have seen that you love the Captain,' she said, smiling, and placing the lamp upon a small round table covered with a red cloth. ,' I hardly know what I did say,' was my reply. ';Ah, that is the very thing,' she said, chucking me under the chin, and taking a fresh pinch of snuff. ' It was your heart that spake and not your lips.' I almost believed what she said; for I had thought so much of him that I could not keep. him out of my mind. I remained silent and thoughtful. 'I'm glad your heart is thus occupied,' s. she continued. 'It will all be the more s pleasant when he does come.' ' i- 'He may be shot,' I replied, speaking 1 again from the impulse of the moment. s 'Another and yet a more favorable symp- , tom,' she said. ' Well do I remember of e indulging just such thoughts and apprehen- n sions in relation to my lover, who treated y me so cruelly, and who I hope is in torments , everlasting!' ' You absolutely frighten me,' was my sud- den exclamation. 'Ah, you need not be frightened, for you i will never have cause to utter such a wish,' she said, smiling, and endeavoring to calm my agitated feelings. mI hope and pray not,' I replied, feeling somewhat quieted by her smile and man- ner. 'No, no, my dear, Capt. Dunmore is one of a thousand,' she said. 'He will surely come, He has been all over the world, and knows how to avoid dangers. Besides, he is a very brave man and can defend himself. He will certainly come. . He may have been detained longer by his business than he ex- pected; but he will come. Nothing but death will keep him away from you.' 'And, perhaps, he is dead!' I replied, wiping a tear from my eve. She noticed the tear, smiled, took an ex- tra pinch of snuff, and gazed silently upon me for a few moments. I felt strangely, and could not speak;, or if I could, I knew not 'what to say. ' Yes, the case is plain,' she continued, adjusting her spectacles and wiping some scattered snuff from her upper-lip that had not found its way into her nose. ' I remem- ber of sheding tears where I was just about your age. These tears are tell-tales from the heart. Ah, they are precious jewels, more to be prized than gold or rubies. The Captain will come. Hark! I now hear foot- steps on the door-stone. Yes, that is his /' page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] knocking. Three times and I let him in.- Yes! knock! knock! knock!' She ran down stairs and my heart leaped into my mouth. Strange what an excitement. 1 was under. I heard his voice when he asked,' Is she here?' I knew that voice well. Strange how we remember voices when we cannot recognize faces! The tones seemed to be as familiar to my ears as if I had been accustomed to hear them from infancy. 'Yes, she is here,' replied Aunt Tuttle. 'God be praised, then!' he answered.- And now what sweet music that was to my ears! I attempt to rise and run and meet him'; but I had not sufficient command of my muscles to rise upon my feet.' Soon l entered the room and rushed towards me with open arms. 'Heaven be praised for this meeting!' he said, folding me in his arms and pressing me to his bosom. I thought I felt his heart beat, and mine answered its pulsations. Yes, heart seemed I to answer to heart! T felt his warm lips upon a mine! I had no power to resist, and if I a had, the will was absent. I felt as if he sur- 1 rounded and defended me from all dangers. a Yes, I had found a protector who made. me s feel safe in his arms in a city which I im- t aginedwas full of dangers. I had been so a long expecting him, had witnessed such ex- r citing scenes, escaped from, such danger, n and thought so much of him that I loved him c that moment. Yes, he had won my heart! c No he had not won it, but I had given it to a him while he was absent and could not win 1 it. The French have a maxim, that 'talking i3 about love, makes it,' but I can assure my tl female readers that thinking about love will ff make it also. I have often thought when a these exciting scenes were all past that I t should not have loved him so deeply, so sud- ra denly,.:if I had ret.;ainded with him instead i - of accompanying young Cunard from the steamboat. I had seen just enough of him to d make me think seriously of him. The pe- t. culiar circumstances in which I was placed, e my imagination, my thoughts, his absence e from me, all combined to excite within me i the passion of deep, ardent, enthusiastic love. 3 Sometimes I look back upon that evening, f and am almost persuaded that human love is nothing but the creature of circumstances.- But I must turn from this digression to my narrative. My head laid upon his breast several minutes, and I seemed to be in a sort of dreamy, unconscious state. However, in a short time I awoke to a consciousness of my situation; yet I gazed upon him as I never gazed upon any other human being. In his character were united lover and protector.- Hie seemed to me li . a lover. How differ when Cunard attel There was an instin me to spring from h at his touch. And an instinctive impu had not thought so and had not drear sence, and did not iooK up 1o mna uu a piv tector. My imagination had not done its full work, and the lessons my mother had given me were fresh in my memory. He was near my age,.and I felt as if he might be aw ;de- ceiver and a destroyer. My time had 1not come, and a combination of circumstances and excitement had not prepared my heart to love. In brief, I had not thought myself into love. That is a key which may open the secrets of many female hearts. Let my. female readers ponder upon these matters and draw instruction from them. Tempta- tations are round about them, and calm reason, and cool judgment must be exercised. Besides, the occurrence of strange circum- stances, and startling accidents made me be lieve that a kind Providence had sent me a protector, friend and lover in whom I could place the most implicit confidence. Hecame to me in just the nick of time. Had he come sooner or later, the case might have Peen somewhat different. The ambition to wed a. rich husband might have lurked at the bottom and formed a basis upon which imagination could form her superstructure, and, especially, when aided by favoring cir- cumstances and singular and' exciting acci- dents. - 'I am sorry my business detained me so long,' he said, smoothing back the hair from my perspiring forehead, and speaking in tones of voice that inspired me with full confidence in him in the three-fold character of pro- tector and lover. The wise man has said that a three-fold cord is not easily broken, and I found I was bound to him by a chain I could not breaks, and would not if I could. 'I told her you would come,' said Aunt Tuttle, speaking before I had time to make a reply. She sat a short distance from us, and seemed to be living her life over again.- She took snuff almost incessantly, smiled, trotted her right foot, moved her spectacles up on her forehead, and then down over her eyes, gazed upon us and seemed to be as well-pleased as a child with a rattle. Why she was thus apparently so pleased, passed my. power of comprehension, That secret I could not fathom. It was securely locked in her own bosom. 'I was impatient to see you; there have ' been such terrible scenes and excitements,' t I said. 'Yes, she was afraid some body had shot ^ you,' said Beulah Tuttle. t '0, no one is inclined to point a' revolver at me,' he replied. ' I have not injured u any one, and don't herd with gamblers, t pickpockets and libertines.' f 'Indeed, you do not,' said Beulah; 'If a you did I should be afraid to have you come d into my house.' e ' How remarkable it is that young Cunard e should be shot on the same day that you e were rescued from his power!' he said, o pressing my hand,and playing with one of t my ringlets. 'Ah, these beautiful curls h have been in my mind ever since I first , saw them on board the steamboat.' 'I don't wonder at that, said Aunt Tuttle, thumping 'her snuff-box, and trotting her foot. 'You told me the truth, Captain, when you came to engage board for this young lady. I didn't fully believe you then, but have since; I thought you were wild any enthusiastic.' "Wild, and enthusiastic!' he repeated, smiling. 'Yes, old bachelors are apt to be when they fall in love,' she replied. 'And how is it with single ladies?' he good-naturedly inquired. 'They don't fall in love at all,' she re- plied, laughing. 'There may be a very good reason for that,' he added. 'And what is hat?' she asked, throwing back her spectacles upon her forehead, as if she could hear better for that movement. 'Because no one will first love them,' he replied. 'Ydur'e an old joker, Captain,' she said, putting back her' spectacles, and taking as much snuff as she could grab between her thumb and finger. 'It seems to me, some Yankee might in- vent a machine which would facilitate the taking snuff,' he said. 'A box might be made with springs in it so -arranged that when the box was opened they would flirt the snuff up into the nose.' 'Yes, and fill the eyes with the same motion,' she replied. ' No no, Captain, my thumb and finger is a machine good enough for me.' page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] 'I perceive they are well used to the busi- ness, and work rather nimbly;' he added, laughing, and at the same time pressing my hand to give emphasis to his remarks, or for some other reason. After cracking a few more jokes and taking a few more pinches of snuff the housekeeper retired, leaving me and the Captain alone.- I draw a curtain between myself and the reader. The night passed, and I heard no. report of a revolver, cry of murder, or ringing of fire-bells. The sun rose bright, and shed its beams upon the just and upon the unjust.- I arose at an early hour, and thought of my mother, and her humble home, and how much she would be surprised to hear of my marriage with a man old enough to be my father. I thought, too, how much the envy of some girls in my native village would be excited, when I visited home with a husband having money enough to purchase the whole village. I had every reason to believe the Captain had oceans of money. He looked- acted like it; and Beulah Tuttle was well- informed and eloquent upon that subject.-- Such a belief flattered my pride and ambi- tion, and I loved him too. What more could a poor village girl ask? My cup of bliss seemed to be full and running over; and I did not once even dream of its being dashed from my lips. My lover had age, and that gave me confidence. Hadhe been a young man, I might have had less confidence in him, and been filled with more fearful appre- hensions for the future. He had made the most solemn promises of marriage; and it was not in my heart to suspect him of infi- delity. No man could appear more sincere and devoted to woman than he was to me.- I believed his words, and doubted not his actions proceeded from the purest love and affection. Not long after breakfast the Captain called with a carriage, and we rode over many portions of the city, and into Roxbury. I was well delighted with the ride, and O, how I wished my mother could have been with us. He assured me the tirne would come when we would visit her at her humble home in Maine, and bring her to the city with us. How I longed for that time to come when 1 could enter my native village and show the proud and haughty girls there my rich and handsome husband! that was a day which I anticipated with the most en- thusiastic pleasure. It seemed to me it would be one of the happiest days of my life. As we were riding round the Common and gazing upon the green grass and beautiful and majestic trees, he took my hand in his, and said in a humorous manner: ' We passed a short t;..^ - 41 * . ' "? fashionable dre now about leari ' Perhaps it ^ learn it, and t dresses.' 'Yes,' he ad ikiss," and you c ladies, and help ,when we go to a good many A..., , C La my ,l , si money.' I assured him I had no doubt but I could learn to be a very fashionable dressmaker, and make money by it. He remarked that he believed I had skill enough; but thought I might wait a few years until all his money was gone, and then engage in the business, and he would go to sawing wood. Thus he ridiculed the idea of my ever becoming en- gaged in that employment. I confess I be: gan to look upon that business with some 'degree of contempt. His influence over me had become so great that he could mould me at his pleasure into almost any shape as the potter does his vessel. Strange how soon our habits may be changed! We rode back to my boarding house, and Beulah came to e door with her sharp features wreathed in smiles. ;She was now satisfied that I was bound to my lover by cords that could not well be Broken And alas! her opinion was but too well-founded in truth. I had the promise of going to the theatre which was highly gratiftyng. CHAPTER XIX The power of love. A night not to be men- tioned. The theatre. The efect of the play. The appearance of the mysterious girl. Her ominous words. A lover's agi- tation, 4c. I PASSED another evening with my lover. And O, my God, pardon me! How strange is the talismanic power of love! How it changes opinions, feelings and habits! I was disquieted; but I looked forward to my bridal day with a solicitude that cannot be described. My housekeeper grew more and more pleas- ant and good-natured, and lavished her praises upon my lover. I concluded that he had made her some generous present. My con- S clusion was correct. He had given her a silk dress, and also one for me, but I did a not know it until sometime after breakfast.- c It was a beautiful olive-colored silk. It was tp, be maoe up immediately. Beulah ac- companied me to a fashionable dressmaker, and the lady promised to have, it done in a three days. Three days passed and I ap- h peared in my olive silk-yes, dressed for the u theatre! My life of dissipation had com- P menced; but I looked forward to my bridati day that would atone for all crimes and make' I me a fashionable woman, and the wife or c him whom I loved. c Bulah complimented me highly on my ap- cc pearance. My dress did most admirably a, :k become me. I began to prize my beauty to and charms more than I had ever prized n them before. That keen moral sense which is once passed a righteous judgment upon all )t my actions begun to to be blunted, and my is conscience to have some of its stings. The e carriage was driven up, and my lover re- s ceived me kindly. Soon we were sealed in the theatre. The house was full, and the curtain rose; I was in extacies. The play commenced and I listened with breathless attention. The play was the Stranger; and the part of Mrs. Haller was performed with great power. My feelings were wrought up to the highest pitch of excitement. Ere I knew it my eyes were filled with tears, and my heart was beating as if it disdained to be confined within such narrow bounds. The play so absorbed my attention at first that I scarcely noticed any thing but the actors. A gentle- man sat behind us who seemed to be ac- quainted with the Captain. I overheard him whisper to the Captain; ' a devilish fine girl,! Who is she?' 'A niece of mine,' replied the Captain. I iTell that to the marines,' said the man, smiling. Now I noticed several opera glasses pointed at me, and asked the Captain why it was done. 'To see your beauty more plainly,' he replied, smiling. I remarked that I didn't like to be gazed at quite so much; but he told me I must hide my curls and veil my face if I did not wish to be seen. 1 was flattered by his re- ply. Between the acts I happened to look upon the other side of the theatre and there I sqw the widow Topway dressed in magnifi- cent style, and pointing her glass at me. A chill came over me, and the blood crept coldly about my heart. I was 'very much agitated. page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] 'There's that woman I boarded with be- fore you rescued me from her,' I whispered. ' Very likely,' he replied, apparently quite indifferent. Almost every body goes to the theatre.' '0, I hate the sight of her!' I answered. ' She's a very wicked woman ' - ' Yes, the city contains all sorts of peop.' he replied, seeming to me as if he wislihA to avoid the subject; but why was a mystery to me. ' The certain rose, and the play went on My whole soul was again absorbed in the deep interest I felt for the character I felt for Mrs. Haller.. O, how I pitied that much- abused woman. My tears flowed freely.- Another act passed, and I had a breathing ' spell. '0, what a terrible play!' I said, as the curtain went down, and my eyes were full of tears. 'A very affecting piece when well per- formed,' he replied, apparently indifferent. ,At that moment I happened to cast my eyes above and saw that Josephine whose image had haunted me so- much and whose, words had produced such strange effects np- on my mind. She was bending over and gazing upon me. Several other gaily dressed females were near her. 'Good heavens!' I whispered into the ear of my lover. 'I see a girl above who boarded at the same house with me.' He turned his eyes up, but soon looked ,in another direction, and for a moment he seemed to be somewhat agitated. He made no reply. 'Why do the girls sit away up there?' I asked. ' Perhaps they think they can see better,' he replied. Before I had time to ask another question the curtain rose, and my attention was drawn to thh play. Although the acting was in- tensely interesting to me, yet I could not re- frain from occasionally looking up at that girl Whose eyes seemed to be constantI fixed upon me. 'The widow Topway, too, gazed upon me quite often. What with the play, and these woman gazing, I was very much agitated. O, how I wanted to speak with Josephine! I regretted that she had taken a seat so far from me. I told the Captain I was anxious to speak with her, and asked him if I could not do so after the play was over. He told me there would be such a crowd that it would not be convenient to speak with her, 'besides,' he continued,' I advise you not to cultivate the acquaintance of any girls who board with that woman.' ' But that girl seemed to be in great dis- tress and acted strangely,' I' replied. 'Such characters are always in distress, or pretend to be indifference that veins. But notwithstani coldness, I felt a for she had manife welfare. But hea ' monitions may hav to meet another a ' As soon as this play is through, we will, go,' he said. 'The farce to be acted after- wards is a silly one, and not worth hearing. I consented of course; but still I was very anxious not only to see all the plays, but also to seek an opportunity to speak with Josephine. And if I did not seek such an opportunity I felt quite sure she would; for she could steal through the crowd and whisper a few Words in my ears and no one be the wiser for it. Most deeply were my feelings excited by the play, the last part enlisting my synipa- thies more than the first, if that were possi- ble. And yet I found time to look up and see that girl. The Captain noticed that she engaged a portion of my time, and whispered t me not to look up into the ' third row,' as e called it, saying it was not respectable. I hardly knew what he meant, but refrained from looking in that direction so often as I had before: yet I occasionally got a glimpse of the girl in' spite of his admonitions. : seemed to me that I had never seen him when he appeared to be so restless and un- eas. There, was a mystery about it which I'could not solve, and which I dared not ask him to explain. In a short time he said.- 'There this play is about over, and we will go now so as to get rid of the crowd, for many will be going.' Reluctantly I rose and followed him out. Just as I started, I saw Josephine gaze in- tently'a moment upon us, and then leave the front seat which she occupied. I hoped she was going out and would meet us. We passed out and stood Upon the outside. He. left me a moment to bespeak a carriage, when I felt some one gently touch me on my shoulder. I turned round, and as I did so, Josephine said in a low but anxious voice. ^ ' My God, are you with him!' Before I had time to utter a single word, she glided round a corner and was out of my sight. It seemed as if my heart would sink within me. So quick and sudden were her -movements that he did not discover her.- h Soon we entered a carriage, and were driven s away. He was apparently agitated; yet he t treated ine with marked fondness. Whether o to inform him that girl had spoken to me or w not, was a question which I seriously de- a bated in my own mind. 'My God, are ydu n with him,' kept ringing in my ears. If she w had said almost any thing else, I should th probably have told him she had spoken to st me; but I dared not do it now. The car- th riage was hurried along, for the driver was b anxious to return to the theatre for more custom. , h' d 'I noticed you could hardly keep' your is eyes from that girl,' lie said, throwing his I arm, round my waist, and printing a kiss up- d onlfiy lips. I: 'She does very much interest me, indeed,' plied. ' I wish I knew more of her his- suppose you did not know that all the s in that high seat in the theatre are h wantons.' ' Indeed, I did not,' I replied, being greatly surprised at what he said. ' If' that girl is a 1'wanton I believe she is a broken-hearted one, and driven to such a life by the cruelty of some wicked man.' 'It is possible; but then some girls run to such a life as ducks take to the water,' he replied, whistling one of the tunes played at the theatre, and appearing cold and indif- ferent. '0, how can you speak of such things so lightly?' I asked. ' I pity thatgirl from-the bottom of my heart! She was innocent once and I believe now she possesses some good (ualities, and might be restored to a virtuous life, if the proper means were used. O, if I had the power and the means, how gladly would I exercise them to save her now before it is forever too late!' 'I reckon it is altogether too late now,' he replied. ' I trust you will not give,:your- self unnecessary trouble about such charac- ters. The city is, and always will be, full of such women. So wags the world, and we must make\the best of it. Such creatures are in all cities in every country. I have never visited any city but what was cursed with them. And there are very few cities in the world I have not visited. And,. isn't strange that I should have traveled all over the world and have never seen a girl I loved before I saw you' . 'It does, indeed, seem strange, and. per- haps you will become sick of me,'r!haid, --F - "'VYUVL" UIVIL 1 (Ijj! L71ilU k page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] feeling for'the moment such fearful appre- hensions. ' O, never let me hear you express. such doubts again!' he said, apparently gieved to the heart. 'You wound my feelings.?': Heaven forbid that I should ever do thiti !T replied, regretting that I had doubt e: love or his honor. 'I know well you have no wish to do and therefore can pardon you,' he said, im- printing a warm kiss upon my cheek. We had now reached my boarding house. We alighted and went in. Aunt Tuttle was up waiting for us. ' Well, you have come home in very good season,' she said; 'I didn't expect you this hour or more. Well, I suppose you feel more happy together than you do in such a crowd.' 'Indeed, I do,' said the Captain, smiling. 'I cannot be so happy elsewhere as I am 'in your humble dwelling.' 'Ah, it is love in a cottage now, but one of these days it will be love in a palace,' she replied. 'Well,' it is said, that variety is the spice of life, and I think the saying is a true one; but-I don't see much of it.' ' I don't now, but you are about as happy as any one after all,' he said. 'Ah, Captain, you know better than to say that,' she replied. 'I might have been i as happy as you are now, if a certain man who once pretended to love me had not proved a very devil incarnate. If I' could t meet him and plunge this dagger into his heart and let it drink his blood, I could died contented!' She drew a dagger from her bosom and brandished it over her head, the blade gleaming in the light of the lamp, and her i gray eyes emitting flames of fire. I was really alarmed, and involuntarily seized my lover's arm for protection. Be not alarmed, my dear,' she continued c 'This shining blade will never injure any one but him. 'When he stole my monpy, i and abandoned me, I bought this instrument, I placed it in my bosom where I have worn it ever since. I swore to be revenged, if he ,bver crossed my track!' i-?: She now seemed to be more calm, and speaking in a lower voice, continued. 'But that was many years ago, and this blade will probably never drink his heart's blood. If I had money I would have followed him to the ends of the earth and got my revenge; but he stole both my heart and money. Ah, Captain, it has been said that hell has no fury like a woman's hate; and that black- hearted man would have believed it, if I could have found him. But no matter. Let it pass now.' She put up her daurer. and tnnlr twn pinches of snuff 'Theie, Aur. quiet your nerve have made a re would make a r . if you would eni 'I shouldn't ;i some of the mei more calm and rejoiced to witncoo, ,ur sne naa reaiy maae me feel nervous by her furious gestures and wild speaking. I needed repose; for the play I had witnessed, and the strange words of the mysterious girl had most seriously affected my nerves. 'You have done pretty well for one night, and if ever I have a difficult cause to manage I will engage you to speak for me,' said the Captain. 'I'll do it for the fees lawyers get,' she re. plied, laughing, and leaving the room. 'She is a very singular woman,' I said. 'She is, but after all, she possesses a good kind heart,' he replied, leaning his head up- on my shoulder, and gazing fondly into my eyes. 'That woman is no hypocrite like the widow Topway. She speaks out just what she thinks.' 'If I thought she was such a woman as that wily widow I would leave her house, this very evening, late as it is,' I replied. ' And you would be doing right, my dear,' he answered, smiling, and brushing back the hair from my forehead and temples. The curtain drops! We are alone! CHAPTER XX. Tyme waits not for man or woman. Jealousies and suspicions, the concomitantsof love- An interview in the streets. Its effects upon, the heroine, 4Sc. SEVERAL days had passed, but nothing of great moment happened, at least, nothing to be recorded on these pages. I had written to Josephine; told her where she would find me, and urged her to call; but she did not make her appearance. I thought very strange of it; I began to suspect that she had not received my letter. Beulah knew when I wrote, and offered to put my letter into the post office as she was going directly past it. Not knowing where the office was, I gave her the letter, and whether she had fulfilled her promise or not, became quite a question in my own mind. Sometimes I heard her and the Captain talking very busily together. Once I lstened and thought I heard the word letter named; but was not certain as they 1 spoke low. It seemed to me that they had I more private interviews together than was necessary. The truth is, I began to be somewhat i suspicious that my letter never reached poor Josephine. I concluded that the Captain s and Beulah had an understanding together, s and that she was to take the letter and not put it into the post office; but -what 'particu- r ie lar reasons he had for pursuing such a course at I could not tell. Perhaps he might not wish me to correspond with a girl of such a char- IS acter. That was the most favorable con- B, struction I could put on the affair; and my love was so strong for him that I would not allow myself to think evil of him. He treated' e me so kindly, and appeared to love me so e ardently, and I so firmly believed that we should be married ere many weeks had passed that 1 could not, nay, would not, in- dulge suspicions of his integrity and honor. I loved him, and when I say that the kind s reader will understand that I believed he could do no wrong. Such were my feelings ' towards this man whose age was more than double that of mine. His power over me was strange and mysterious. The less he f spoke of our marriage the more I was in- clined to introduce that topic. It seemed to me he did not converse' so much upon the subject as he did when we were first ac- quainted. One morning at the breakfast table I spoke to Reulah about the letter I had written to Josephine. This was several days after I had given her the letter to be put into the post office. ' You are quite sure you put the letter into the post office, are you?' I asked, gazing directly into her gray, sparkling eyes. 'Indeed, I am,' she replied, looking as sharply at me as I did at her. 1 thought I discovered guilt in her count tenance; and yet I feared I might be doing her injustice by harboring such a thought. 'Well, I suppose you did,' I said. ' But it is strange I have received no answer to it' ' Then you expected an answer, did you?' she asked, sipping some coffee, and looking slyly at me over the edge of the cup. 'I did, and it is very strange I have not received one,' I replied. page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] 'The creature's too busy to write,' she said. ' Such girls always have enough to do. I fear she is noc so good as she ought to be; and, perhaps, it is well that she has not written you. The Captain wouldn't like-to see you holding a correspondence with. a girl who boards at the widow Topway's.' ' Does he know I wrote to her ' I asked. At first she hesitated, but finally said he did know it. My suspicions were now some- what strengthened; but I said no more upon the subject. The next day I purchased a penny paper in which I learned that Carolus Cunard had so far recovered from his wound as to be able to ride out. I was glad the wound did not prove mortal, for well I knew he was not fit to die, and hoped he would live and re- pent. I was anxious to walk out; 'but Aunt Tuttle and the Captain also told me it would not be safe for me to promenade alone, and so I never-appeared out except in company with the Captain, and then always in a car- riage. He seemed to be afraid to have me appear in the streets, and did not accompany me to any place of public amusement. Ex- cept an occasional ride, I was imprisoned with this singular woman whose character grew more and more mysterious the more I became acquainted with her. There was something about her I could not compre- hend, and yet she did not appear like a hypocrite; at least, not like such a hypocrite as the widow Topway. She treated me kindly, and whenever she noticed that my spirits were low, she would endeavor to revive them by speaking of my marriage, and the fine mansion I was soon to become the misttess of. I noticed the Captain ap- peared more and more reluctant to converse upon our marriage, and his visits to me be- came less and less frequent. Sometimes I was really alarmed lest he might leave me; but a visit from him would dispel all those , fears, and restore me to my usual flow of spirits. One afternoon I was sitting at a window, looking out into the street, and saw young Cunard standing upon the sidewalk, con- versing with Captain Danmore. They ap- peared to be quite angry, and every moment I expected there would be a fight. I gently raised the window so that I might hear, if possible, what they said. My heart leaped into my mouth, when I heard the young man swear he would find the girl if it cost him his life. They'flourished their canes, but -did not strike, although I momentarily ex- pected blows would be given. Again, I heard Cuiard say he would expose the Cap- tain if he did not give up the girl. And I thought I heard him speak of the Captain's wife, but of that I was not sure: still thb suspicion almost c my hands and sob moment Beulah ei iously inquired , pointed into the st ply. She looked and the young ma ' O, don't be a Captain can flog a regiment ot just such tel- lows. The fellow may flourish his cane, but he dares not' strike, if he did, the Captain would annihilate him at a blow.' 'I am not afraid of that, but I thought I heard the young man speak of the Captain's wife,' I replied, gazing through my tears upon her sharp features. ' The Captain's wife!' she repeated, laugh- ing quite loud in a sort of hoarse, cracked voice. The Captain's wife! Well, that beats the Dutch. I reckon if you did hear that, it was news to the Captain. The young man mjiht have said wife, when speaking of you; but I guess it is all imagination. The Captain's wife! Well, that may be said one of these days, but not now. I suppose the IV. fellow feels wrathy because the Captain rescued you from his power. No doubt, if I werea young man, I should feel indignant under the same circumstances.' ' But he may carry a pistol and shoot the Captain!' I said. 'I really feel as if his life was in danger.' 'No fear of that,' she said. ' The fellow is a coward, and dares not shoot.' '0, I don't know how that may be,' I re- plied. He is a desperate, wicked person, and may do some terrible deed.' ' 'There, they have separated, and no blows struck!' she said. I was rejoiced to hear that; but I had not strength to rise and look through the win- dow. I expected the Captain would call, but he did not at that time. In the evening, however, he came. 'Then you are not shot or stabbed,' said Beulah to the Captain, as he entered the room in which we were sitting. 'I feel no blood flowing, or pain from a wounds,' he replied. 'I believe I'm all sound. But what mean you?' '0, nothing, only Louise was afraid that young man would kill you when you and he i met to-day,' she replied. 'He kill me!' said the Captain. 'He knows better than to attempt that. I should not be afraid to set myself up as a mark for him to fire at. He is much more likely to be shot, than to shoot any one.' 'I told Louise he was a coward, and need not be alarmed,' she said, leaving the room. 'Then you saw us together this after- poon, did you, my dear?' he asked, kissing me. a 'I did, and heard some things he said,' m I replied. en A shadow suddenly came over his brow, and he seemed to be agitated; but he soon du rallied, and asked what I heard. lik 'That he would find the girl if it cost Al tin him his life, that he would expose you, and if also spoke of your wife,' I replied. nt ' O, my wife, that is to be,' he said, forcing a smile. 'Yes, he raved some, and said you he should never become my wife.' fe 'That might have been what he said,' I answered, feeling somewhat assured that I w had not heard aright. '0, Captain, I wish we were married, and could leave the city e- awhile. It seems to me you are in danger a, here now, and I do not feel safe.' 'There's not the least danger in the world,' o he said. ' You are perfectly safe with our friend. Aunt Tuttle. No one would ever )t think of coming here to find you. No-no, - my dear Louise, you are entirely safe here. , There's not a safer place in the city than this ;, house.' 'It may be so; still, I feel quite nervous,' I said. ' When do you think we shall be e married?' 'O, before many weeks, soon as I can arrange some business-affairs, which requires my personal attention,' he replied. ' Soon as we are married, I intend to take a jour- ney to the Springs, and spend a few weeks in traveling. You would like that, wouldn't you? We shall see some gay and fashionable society.' 'I should rather go and visit my mother,' I replied. 'We will go there, too, one of these days,' he said. ' Surely we must visit your mother and bring her to the city. I intend she shall live with us.' I wish we could live in the country a part of the time,' I said, wishing we might spend a few months in my native village so that I might surprise the people and excite the envy of those proud, haughty, village girls. 'Perhaps we may live in the country during the summer months,' he replied. I like the country well during the warm season. And I shouldn't be surprised if we passed page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] several weeks in the place where you were born, before next autumn.' * That would give me great pleasure,' I replied. 'It is a beautiful place. The fields are green, the streams and lakes lovely.- There is good trouting in the vicinity. Are you not fond of angling?' ' O, exceedingly fond of angling when I can catch such a trout as you are,' he re- plied; smiling, and imprinting a warm kiss upon my lips. 'I think I have caught the most beautiful fish that swims in any of the streams or lakes of Maine' ' You havn't seen them all yet,' I an- swered, smiling. ' No doubt there are hun- dreds, nay thousands of girls in Maine much more beauitful than I am.' 'There may be, but permit me to say I don't believe one word of it,' he said. ' No, no, my dear Louise. Neither Maine, or any other State in our Union can furnish a girl- whom I could love as I do you.' 'You ought to love me more than any other woman, if you make me your wife,' I said. 'True, and so I do,' he replied, drawing me towards. him and pressing me to his breast. ' When I'm with you, . feel as if I had the whole world in possession and need nothing besides. Strange, what true lbve exercises over the human heart!' My own heart bore witness'to that. When in his presence, I felt as if my cup of earthly bliss was full and running over. It seemed to me I had found the man heaven intended for me. What power he had to calm my nerves and keep down all suspicions, and especially when he was with me. But when he was absent, I was sometimes troubled lest there might be' a slip between the cup and the lip. I'm sure the kind reader will not censure mp if T rnno mf-Ta on. ....., ---.. '- CHAPTER XXI. Threkttersfrom home. A mother'swarnings. Caution about false promises. An exciting interview. The truth told, and true char- acters developed. The hunchback's rage. ON the same day I received two letters- one from Stebbins the young blacksmith. I ' read my mother's first; but for Capt. Dun- more, I might, and probably should, have given the other letter the first perusal. But, what was the love of a young blacksmith to me then? True, he was the first man who ever declared his passion for me; and I con- fess that declaration was not without its legitimate effects upon my mind and heart. When I left him I almost loved him, and now greatly respected him. I knew him to be a very worthy, industrious young man; I judged from his letter that he did not know what I had written to my mother. He spoke of his love, how much my absence had in- creased it, how he longed to be free from his apprenticeship, that he might visit Boston, and how anxious he was to see me. His etter I read with interest; but how to an- swer it and not wound his feelings was a question that troubled me exceedingly. My mother's letter was full of good advice and many sound admonitions. She said mar. riage was a solemn contract in which my earthly happiness was involved. Although she was always anxious that I should marry a rich man and believed my beauty would procure such a man if brought to the right market; yet in her letter she very wisely cautioned me not to let riches become the controlling power, and urged me to study well the character of him who desired to make me his wife, and above all she cau- tioned me not to be deceived by any false promises. ' Beware of libertines, O, Louise,' was a frequent phrase in her letter. That fear seemed to be present in her mind all the time she was writing. She said the city was full of such characters, and that I must con- stantly be on my guard and keep a sharp look out for them. Many times did I read her letter over, and O, how anxious I was to see home once more; but before I did I expected to be Mrs. Dunmore page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] Just after I had finished reading my let- ters and deposited ihem in my trunk, I heard a knocking at the door, Beulah was out and I was alone. It was about the middle of the afternoon, and I mustered courage to answer the summons at the door. I ran down stairs and unlocked the door. O, what pen can describe my feelings, when my eyes fell up- on Carolus Cunard, the libertine and the gambler! My first thought was to shut the door in his face; but I was so overcome by my feelings that I had not strength to do so, and he stepped in. '0, for heaven's sake do not stay here! I exclaimed, almost frantic, and scarcely knowing what I did say.' 'Be not alarmed,' he said, in a mild, pleasant voice. 'I came not here to injure, but to do you good, if it is not too late.' 'How too late?' I anxiously inquired.- 'What mean you? Speak ' He closed the door, and asked to lead the way up stairs. '0, no, I cannot go ' was my reply. ' Do let the door stand open. The woman who keeps the house will soon be here!' "et her come,' he answered. ' I fear not to see her, bad as she is.' 'Bad as she is!' I repeated. O, heavens, what do you mean?' ' Before heaven, I swear I came not to hurt a hair of your head,' he said, in a cool, Y collected manner. 'Walk up, and I will tell X you all.' r I started up, scarcely knowing whether,I E was walking on my head or feet. He fol I lowed me, and we sat down in the small t sitting room. I could scarcely look him in the face, and trembled in every muscle. n 'Be calm, and quiet,' he said. ' Do you c know the real name of the man who pays your board at this house?' t 'What do you mean?' I anxiously in- qUired. ' ( not his name Captain Dun- b more?' . t- 'No, it is not, as heaven is my judge!' he d replied, in a voice which seemed to be that d of truth. ' His name is James Hurd, and a e hard case he is!' r 'James Hurd!' I repeated, almost beside rs myself. 'James Hurd!' n I could say no more, and buried my face -: in my hands. e 'Yes, James Hurd,' he answered. 'I have e found out his history and his family con- r nections.' ' His family connections!' I repeated. ' O my God!' ' He has a wife and three daughters, one of whom is older than you are,' he replied. 'He is an old libertine, and I confess, I m a young libertine; but an old one is most to be feared, I'm thinking.' 'Gracious 'heavens!' I exclaimed. (Do your lips speak the trnith 9' ,'I call on truth I have been watchi. saw him one so concluded . have found y . . . the knowledg James Hurd wool. He is well-nown in all the brothels in the city, and has been for years. I advise you to escape from his power as soon as you can. Make him furnish you with a good round sum of money, for he's rich and can afford to do it. However vicious I may be I am not so wicked but I can speak the truth." '0, my God!' I exclaimed, in the bitter- ness of my heart. ' Have 1 thus been de- ceived.' ' You surely have, and I confess I intended to deceive you,' he answered. 'But his power proved greater than mine. I beat the bush, and he caught the bird. Tell him you will expose him, even go to his house and proclaim his guilt to his wife and daughters,J unless he pays you a large sum of money.- Stick to him, and you'll get it. He is a mighty old rascal, and has destroyed the character of many an innocent girl.' I could make no reply, for my words stuck fast in my throat. ' And this old hunchbacked hag you board with is as bad as he is,' he continued. ' She once kept a brothel, but her ugly looks drove away all her customers, and she ,was com- pelled to seek other employment or starve. I have found, out her history, also. Her character is as black as a moonless mid- night.' At that moment Beulah entered the house, and came bustling up stairs. As she entered the room and saw young Cunard flourishing his cane in a very independent manner, and myself in tears, her small gray eyes darted out flames of fire, her lips quivered, and she stretched up her form to its utmost height. She took an enormous pinch of snuff, and stood a moment in silence, apparently pre- paring for some terrible outhreak. She gazed upon Cunard, and he smiled, and re- turned her gaze. I trembled, and dared scarcely look at them. ' Well,' she said, taking another pinch of snuff to start her ideas. 'You are not dead yet, I perceive.' 'No, I'm alive, and kicking,' he replied, while his eyes flashed, and his lip curled in scorn. 'It takes more than -one shot to knock the breath out of my body.' If I had held that pistol one shot would have been sufficient,' she said, planting her right foot firmly on the floor, and putting herself into a fighting attitude. 'You hold a pistol,' he replied, manifesting, much contempt. 'Yes, and a dagger, too!' she answered, drawing the shining instrument from her bosom, and brandishing it over her head. He stepped back, apparently afraid that she might prick him with the sharp point; while my fears were much greater than his, that blood would be spilt. My first impulse was to leave the room; but finally concluded to remain. ' What right have you to enter my house in my absence?' she asked. I knocked, and the door was opened, and I entered,' he replied, smiling. 'I will open the door and you can go out the same way you came in,' she said. I'm willing to go now; for I have said all I desired to say about you and that hypocrite and libertine, James Hurd.' 'About me! James Hurd! she repeated with flashing eye and quivering lip. 'Yes, about both of you,' he replied, drawing a revolver from his pocket, and ex- amining the cap. ' As you have a deadly weapon in your hand, it is but fair that I should have one too. I have told this young lady that she was in bad hands-that you were a keeper of a brothel, until your ugly - looks drove away all decent customers, and that Jim Hurd, is the worst old libertine in the city. Put that in your snuff-box and snuff it up.' She was terribly enraged, but kept. her keen eyes upon the revolver as if she feared some harm might grow out of that. He noticed her fear, and became still more saucy and aggravating. AFt last her wicked temper gained the mastery over her fear, and her tongue began to move. 'You talk about libertines!' she said.- 'Why, you are not only a libertine, but a gambler also, yes, a lying, cheating gam- bler!' 'Say on, you ugly hunchbacked hag, he said. 'I won't gratify the devil so much as to put a bullet through your body and send you to him now.' page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] 'Out of my house, or your heart's blood shall stain this shining blade: she said, flourishing her dagger, but keeping at a respectful distance from him. 'Whew!' he said, smiling at her rage, and holding up his revolver. ' O, don't fire, for heaven's sake!' I ex- claimed, in the greatest fear that murder would be committed in my presence. 'Be calm,' he replied. 'No blood will be spilt this time, unless she approaches me near enough to strike, and I think the old hunchback will not venture upon that ex- periment. If she does I can put six bullets through her ugly body as quick as you could count that number.' '0, you imp of the devil!' she exclaimed, grating her teeth, and clenching her hands. I won't kill you; but leave that dirty work to be finished by some of your blackleg com- panions. Leave my house, or I will call the police.' 'I told you I was ready to leave; but you 1 keep talking, and common politeness com-, ,pels me to remain and hear you,' he said.- t ' Cease the wagging of your wicked tongue, V and I will depart from your ugly presence'; I for your looks almost make me hate all wo- i mankind.' 'Go quickly, or my rage will know no 1; bounds,' she answered; stamping her feet, h and flashing her eyes. 'Now before I go, let me say to you, Louise, get out of this den of iniquity as soon J as possible,' he said. ' Remain not another n night with this old hunchback, nor with that fc old libertine, Jim Hurd!' bi Thus speaking, he hurried down stairs fc and left the house before Beulah had time I to disgorge any more of her slang. I fact lil she was so choked with rage that she scarcely ea had the'power of utterance. She trotted th about the room, flourished her dagger, and w snapped her eyes, took several pinches of a od snuffin quick succession, and breathed vio. id,'.lently. Never before or since have I seen. a a woman in such a rage; I was frightened and sick at heart. Some time elapsed before ;e, she could speak, and I had no inclination to break the silence. It was the most unhappy x- moment of my life; I felt as if my heart er would burst, and longed to sink into the earth and hide myself from the gaze of every ill human eye. e 'O, what a black devil that young man d is!' exclaimed Beulah, in a coarse, cracked, ;-.unearthly voice. 'He is like a dog, and I ts wonder why I had not plunged this dagger d into his black, corrupt heart. Captain Dun. more a libertine, and I an old hunchbacked I, hag. O, hell and damnation! No, no, I 3. will not utter such wicked words! But how c can I halp it when such an infernal, black- - hearted devil no ha i;,o o - -....- ,. q e It seems to .. . that I shou blade!' She ran . . time to u - wrought to I longed to ... but her ton she knew r. .... last she seemed to have almost exhausted her rage, and I found a chance to put in a word. ' What did he mean by calling the Captain, James Hurd ' I asked. ' Is Hurd his real name, and has he a wife and daughters? O, for God's sake, speak, and tell me nothing but the truth! Let me know the worst now, for perhaps 1 can endure it better now than I can hereafter. Remember, I am a woman like yourself. At the longest our time on earth is short, and soon we must appear in that world where the secrets of all hearts will be laid open. O, as a woman, speak to a Woman and keep nothing back. Tell me now if I am ruined! Speak the truth, and let it sink deep into my heart. Better, a thousand times better that I should know it now than at some future day.' ( Why, my dear girl, how alarmed you ap. pear to be,' she replied, forcing a smile upon her face, ard some snuff into her nose. ' And have I not reason to be alarmed?' I asked. 'Not the least in the world,' she answered. 'You ought to have more common sense than to believe that blackguard, scoundrel, liber- tine, and gambler. Was he not shot at and came near being killed by one of his black- leg brothers whom he had vilely cheated?- Strange that you should for a single moment believe one word he uttered. He lied from beginning to end.' ' But why did he say that Captain Dun- more's name is James Hurd?' I anxiously inquired; feeling as if he had really spoke the truth in that respect. ' Why did he say that?' she asked. For the very same reason that he called me what he did. He is outraged with the Captain because he rescued you from his cruel hands, and intends to make all the trouble he can. He means to plague your very life out, if he can. He is awfully provoked, and no wonder. Almost any young man would be to have such a. prize as you are thus taken from him. Ah, I understand the young rascal perfectly well. He would induce you to leave the Captain so that he might have some chance ot getting you back; but that he can never do. No, no, my dear girl, be calm and quiet. Be not moved by the lies of such a villain as he is known to be. Remember not a word he uttered; for all he said was a tissue of falsehoods. I guess the Captain will laugh when he comes to hear his name is James Hurd. O, the cunning rascal.- He was determined to invent something that might harrow up your feelings. But think no more of him. He'll have good luck to enter my house again. Whenever I am ab- sent, you must not answer any call at the door.' Thus she spoke, and made every thing ap- pear quite plausible. Knowing some traits in his character, I had not much reason to believe what he said. Still I was filled with fearful apprehensions, and desired to see my lover. Beulah had done all she could do to quiet my nerves, and yet H was not fully reconciled. It seemed to me there might be- some truth in what he had so solemnly ,ut- tered. Dark clouds began to gather about me. page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] CHAPTER XXII. Dark clouds still gather over the heroine.- The hunchback's character still deeper in- volved in mystery. The magic power of love in keeping down suspicions, 'ec. THiE Captain did not visit me that evening following the interview I had with young Cunard, and the night was almost a sleep- less one. I began to think that he had al- ready forsaken me, and my chilled blood crept coldly about my heart. Beulah plied all her arts to keep my spirits up; but I would not be reconciled so long as my lover was absent. At times it seemed to me that young Cunard had spoken, the truth; and yet I was reluctant to' believe evil of him whom I so ardently loved. Beu!ah's charac- ter was indeed a mystery to me; but she treated me very kindly. Sometimes strange features in her character would appear very prominent, and she seemed to be a very savage, ill-tempel always disposed t( construction upon story of her life i she had been an, man; and hence for her sudden ot not willing to beli corrupt at heart, E peared savage, ar m. . Captain's testimony gave, me confidence in her; for I was too prone to believe every thing he said. The last night and the following day were cloudy ones for me. Scarcely a ray of sun- shine illumined my path, and my prospects for the future were dark and gloomy. The words of Cunard had fastened themselves upon my memory, and Beulah's power could not drive them from my mind. The daywore away sadly and slowly for me. Thoughts of home, my mother, the flowers my own hands h d planted; the green pastures and shady groves whee I. used to roam free as the birds of summer; the school house where I learned to read; the little church where I heard our humble parson preach, even the young blacksmith, all passed in review before my mind's eye, and I began to long for those scenes. The twilight had fallen upon the city, the man with a ladder and a torch in his hand was passing from lamp to lamp, and lighting up the street; and 1 sat at a window gazing upon the crowds passing and repassing, and listening to hear a knocking at the door, for there was no door-bell. My heart throbbed, and every moment I expected my lover would return, and yet I feared he might never come again. Thus impatiently and anxiously did I wait while Beulah was busy with her household affairs. Occasionally tears would come un- bidden into my eyes, and I would wipe them away. A thousand conflicting thoughts rushed into my mind, and the night of despair be- gan to gather over my soul. What if he had abandoned me? Suppose he never visited me again, or if he did, it was only to bid me a final farewell These questions greatly agitated my mind, and sorrow and sadness fell upon my heart. A long time I remained in my chair pondering on the past and trying to penetrate the veil that hung between me and the future. At last I heard footsteps upon the door stone, immediately followed by knocking. I ran down stairs, opened the door, and was soon in the arms of my lover. O, how many thoughts and emotions were crowded into that moment! 'I feared you wouldn't come!' I faintly said. ' Why, my dear Louise, do you indulge- such fears?' he asked. '0,I can hardly tell; but I do indulge them, and they make me unhappy,' I re- plied. We now ascended to the stairs to the little sitting room and sat down side by side. My heart was rejoiced to le with him; .but the words of young Cunard were fresh in my memory and made me sad and sorrowful.- I hoped they were not true; nay, I believed they were false and uttered only to torment. me, still I thought there was a possibility of their being true, and that thought troubled me exceedingly. 'You have been well, I trust,' he said,: resting his head upon my shoulder, and look- ing fondly into my eyes. '0, yes, I have been well; but , my God, what feelings have pressed my heart!' I said. 'My dear girl, why do you make such an exclamation?' he asked.' 'It falls heavily upon my heart. Do be cheerful as I al- ways am, when in your presence.' 'When, think you, we shall be married?' I asked, in a voice of trembling. '0, one of these days, as soon as I can properly arrange my business affairs so that we can leave the city, journey, anid enjoy the honeymoon.' 'The honeymoon!' I repeated, looking him full in the face, and watching every movement of his countenance. 'For heaven's sake, do tell me, if your name is James Hurd!' Suddenly he .raised his head from. my shoulder, his countenance changed, and for a moment, trembled; but he soon recovered his balance, and smiling, said, 'What in the world did you ask me such a question for?' 'I heard that was your real name,' I re- plied, feeling strangely. 'James Hurd, my name!' he repeated.- 'Well, I confess that's the last thing I. have heard.' 'And have you not a wife and three daughters?' I asked, trembling in every joint. page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] Again, he suddenly started in spite of all his self-control, which somewhat confirmed my suspicions and made me sick at heart.- Never had I felt such a heavy burden upon "y soul as at that moment. It seemed to me that all was lost, and that I must-become a shame and a reproach to my sex, and break the heart of my good mother. Recovering from the embarrassment into which my inquiry had thrown him, he began to laugh most heartily, and to throw ridicule upon the whole affair. 'Good gracious, and gracious goodness ' he exclaimed, between his fits of laughter. ' Did ever any one hear such nonsense?-- My wife and three daughters.' And again he laughed most immoderately, and once more repeated. 'My wife and three daughters I That's a capital joke! I had'nt the most distant idea that I was so well off in the world. A wife and three daughters! First rate! Capital! I should t like to see them! I wonder if my wife is handsome, and my daughters beautiful and t accomplished? Well, what will the world c come to next? But who in the city told you t such a marvellous story? A wife and three daughters.. And again he burst out into a fit of b laughter as if he would break his sides.- b His laugh continued so long and so loud, y that I could scarcelyfind an opportunity to answer his question. At last I told him w young Cunard was my author. sl 'But where did you see him?' he anx- iously inquired, looking as if he felt some- w what troubled. 'He came to this house a short time since,'fo I replied. 'Come to this' house!' he repeated.- m. 'How under heaven did he know you were sp here?' That is more than I can tell,' I answered. all 'He came while Aunt Tuttle was absent, ed and I let him in before I knew who was at -the door.' on 'Did he offer you any insult?' he asked, looking rather wild and disconcerted. at 'None,' I replied. 'But he said your to name is James Hurd, that you have a wife )d and three daughters, and are the greatest old libertine in the city.' to He rose from his chair, and walked the n room in much agitation. At last he stopped e before me and asked if Aunt Tuttle heard him thus discourse. r ' She did, and he accused her of having kept a brothel,', I replied. ' And why didn't she plunge a dagger into the foul slanderer's heart?' he asked. At'that moment Beulah entered the room with a small lamp in one hand, and her snuff-box in the had been listeninl I the Captain and 'The reason i to besmear my wl corrupt blood,' re - the room. 'A pretty gooc present I think 'breath from his b - . f i not be well for him, if I happen to meet the young rascal.' '0, do not kill him, for then the law would take you and imprison you, and we should be separated!' I said. 'That, my dear gill, is the only reason why I should not kill him,' he replied, smiling, and gazing fondly upon me. 'But for you I would now pursue him until his place in this world should know him no more, forever. He feels much troubled in spirit because I rescued you from his pol- luting hands.' 'Then all he said were falsehoods!' I asked, beginning to believe' that he had uttered nothing but lies, base and wilful lies. 'To be sure they were,' he replied, at the same time smoothing back my hair from my forehead, and imprinting a warm kiss upon it. 'O, he is one of the blackest young scoundrels and the foulest liar in all the city,' said Beulah, taking a fresh pinch of snuff by way of emphasis. ' You may truly say that, Aunt Tuttle,' replied the Captain. ' He will come to some bad end yet. Such scoundrels are not fit to live or die.' Some ot his blackleg companions will shoot him again, and I do really hope the next bullet will do better execution,' said Beulah. ' 'May your hope be fully realized,' he said. G I think I shall cane hini, if I ever meet himtagain.' ' , do not, for he may shoot you,' I said. : He carries a pistol always in his pocket.- He had: ond when he was here,' ; Did he show it?' he asked. 'Yes, and: pointed it at Beulah,' I an- -swered. ,*- 'A very high-handed offence, and the law I would make him suffer for it, if he was prosecuted,' he said. Beulah now left the room, and our con- versation continued. He remarked that Beulah ought to have him arrested and imprisoned for such an insult. But when I told him Cunard did not draw his pistol until she drew her dagger, he said that might make some difference in the case, as he might satisfy a court and jury that he acted in self-defence. Finishing that subject we began to talk again of oar marriage. He made the most solemn promises that the time would come when we should be united in the holy bands of wedlock. He succeeded in making me believe that every thing Cunard uttered was false, and I began to feel more cheerful and look for. ward to happy days. Again, I feel it my duty to drop the curtain and shut out these scenes. S elltS. d page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] CHAPTER XXIII. Great excitement. A strange woman appears, and claims to be the wife of the heroine's lover. A terrible blow is struck upon her heart. The talisman, of love again SEVERAL weeks more of my precious time passed,. and still I lived with the strange hunchbacked woman. No bridal day was appointed, and that much desired period seemed as far off as ever. Not once had I been allowed to walk out, not even to go to the post office, depending upon Beulah for every thing. Beulah and the Captain made me believe it would not be safe for me to appear in the streets, as Cunard or some of his spies might carry me off. Believing thus, I was really afraid to go out. My lover did not come to see me so often as he had previously, and that circumstance gave me some alarm. His love, too, seemed to grow more cold, and his promises of mar- nage fewer : . less solemn. .; .. ' had in him, I . . I should be a '- Beulah en but she wa; - , : l Nothing butl ; v :. ,.: . reconcile me , . . ,: , . over me see away. , My thoughts were continually upon the mysterious Josephine, and I wondered why she had not answered my letters; for I had written to her there,urging her to write, or call and see me, but neither she nor her let- ters came. I had received another from my mother in answer to one I wrote in relation to my expected marriage. I had told her his age, hov he looked, and how rich he was.- She cautioned me not to be deceived, and intimated that she should have more confi- dence in an elderly bachelor than in a young man. Indirectly she approved of my choice, and that gave me great comfort and satisfac. tion. The sealing of the last letter I received from my mother looked as if it had been broken up and re-sealed. Still I did not know, but I might be mistaken as the letter came so far through the post office. Once I suggested to Beulah that I thought the seal had been broken, but she said she guessed not, as the letter came so far and was handled so much by the post masters that it might look so. She partially made me believe her, and yet I entertained suspicions of her in spite of all her art and cunning. No letter came to me except through hers or the Captain's hands. At times I was lonely, and wished myself back again in my native village. But O, how could I see my mother without a hus- band! O, that thought was terrible and crushed my heart to the ground! 'Why does not the Captain visit me more' Qftent' I asked Beulah, one morning, when three days had elapsed, and I had not seen him. '0, he 'is busy, arranging his business matters,'she replied. 'He has a large c estate, and it requires a great deal of his attention. Every thing will be arranged one 1 of these days, and you will be the happy Mrs. Dunmore.' 'One of these days!' I repeated, while the tears stood in my eyes. One of these a days!' I have heard that so long that my V patience is well nigh exhausted.' 1 ' O, you mustn't be too much in a hurry,' she answered. 'Every thing will come round a right one of these lays.' 1 'The summer is now gone! O, God, if f he should abandon me,' I exclaimed, at the same time a knocking was heard at the- door. S Beulah run down to answer the call, and I stood at the head of the stairs where I sl could.. bth see and hear. The door was ai opened, and a very respectable looking lady g d stepped in and inquired if a young woman n by the name of Louise Martin boarded )t there. r ' She left here a short time since, and t i know not where she is gone,' replied Beulah, 1 in a low voice; but my ears were open to 1 catch every sound. 1d 'Louise Martin is here!' I exclaimed, t rushing down stairs. , Beulah looked daggers at me; but my i spirit was aroused, and for the first time I r was convinced that Cunard had told me the truth so far as she was concerned. 'My name is Louise Martin,' I said, gazing into the lady's face. ' Do you wish to see me?' ' ' I do,' she replied, taking a letter from her pocket and handing it to me. 'Read that and then we will converse' farther upon the subject.' 'I have orders to let no person converse With this young lady, or permit her to read any letters except they first come through my hands,' said Beulah, in a trembling, ex- cited manner. ' And who gave you such orders ' asked the lady. ':Captain Dunmoie,' replied Beulah. 'He rescued her from one den of infamy.' '-Yes, and placed her in another!' quickly answered the lady; while I was greedily de- vouring the contents of the letter, and Beu- lah was trembling from head to foot. "eave my house,- said Beulah, in a high and angry tone, and attempting to snatch the letter from my hand which attempt I success- fully resisted. 'Shortly!' calmly replied the lady. 'Captain Dunmore will blame you for such conduct,' said Beulah. 'The letter was an anonymous one; stating that the lady's husband tinder the assumed name of Captain Dunmore, kept a girl at a house, giving the number and the page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] street, ant;- advising her to call and satisfy herself that her husband was an old liber- tine, &c. 'You"can read the letter, now, if you please, as the girl has finished reading it,' said the lady to Beulah. ' O, my God, it is too true ' I exclaimed. letting the letter slip from my trembling fingers and fall upon the floor. 'I have no desire to read the letter,' said Beulah. I understand where it comes from. That young rascal, Cunard, wrote i;. He is' determined to make all thd trouble in his power for Captain Dunmore, since the Cap- tain rescued this girl from his hands. He lies when he says Captain Dunmore has as- sumed a false name. He is Captain Dun- more, and nobody else. I have known him for years, and a better man does not live in the city. 'Perhaps we can test that matter so that there will be no room for doubt,' said Mrs. Hurd, for that was her name. She took from her pocket a miniature like- ness of her husband, and presenting it to me, she continued: 'Does that resemble Captain Dunmore?' I gazed upon it, my head swam round, my heart beat violently, my nerves trembled, and I fell upon the stairs. The picture was an exact likeness of him who had assumed the name of Captain Dun- more for the hellish purpose of seducing me, and gratifying his corrupt passions. The. lady raised me up, while Beulah stood trem- bling in her shoes, grating her teeth, and clenching her hands. I soon recovered my consciousness; but the perspiration stood in large drops upon my brow. It seemed to me at that moment I had ceased to love my seducer, and to commence hating him. A terrible change had come over my feelings; such a change as I hope no other girl will ever experience. I could not shed a single tear. My eyes were dry, and my Voice choked. 'I perceive you recognize the base hus- band; for actions speak louder than words,' said the lady. , ' O,yes, madam, it is he!' I exclaimed, in a choked, tremulous voice. 'It is all a lie,' vociferated Beulah. All done to torment the good Captain.' 'The good Captain,' repeated the lady, while her lip curled with scorn, and her eyes flashed indignation. 'The good Captain!- Would to heaven he was any thing but my husband. The greatest curse of a woman's life is a false-hearted husband.' 'And the greatest curse of a husband's life; is a false-hearted woman!' screamed Beulah, loud enough to be heard out in the street. ' I am not accustomed to blackguardism, having never kpnt a hontsp nf infimv and' learned its bit in calm voice, "There is feeling very gl finger to the 'I understai shall go directl continued. ' longer be dec Flee from him ous serpent that crosses your path. His; touch is worse than the leprosy. Would to heaven I had known he had you here months ago. Then I might have saved you; but now I fear it is too late. Escape from his power as you would from the poisoned ato mosphere of the Upas tree. I have long suspected him, and now I have convincing, damning proof of his corruption and turpi- tude.' '0, what shall I do?' I exclaimed, in the bitterness of my feelings. ' Flee from his embraces as I shall, hence- forth and forever,' replied this abused and ill-treated wife. If you want money I will give it you; but live no longer with him who is your despoiler. ' He promised, solemnly promised me marriage!' I replied. ' I am well aware of that,' she said. ' He passed himself upon you as a bachtlor, as thousands of libertines have done before him. 'You are young, and yet may out- live your disgrace. God grant it may be so. I have no heart to condemn you; for too well I know his power. Flee from him and resolve to atone for all past offences.- Heaven knows I wish you well. Should you ever need assistance, drop a line to me in the post office, and you shall have it.' This good wife now shook my hand'and took her leave. All that time the corrupt- hearted Beulah stood listening to the words that fell from the' abused wife's lips. I was so weak I could hardly stand, and sat down upon one of the steps, until I could some- what rally my powers. At last Beulah as. sisted me to ascend the stairs. 'It is all a farce,' said Beulah. 'And I confess it was well acted. That young scoundrel, Cunard, hired that woman' to play the part. No doubt, she is the keeper of a bad house.' ' But how well she appears,' I replied.- 'She must be a good woman.' 'Did not the widow Topway, as she calls herself, make you believe she was a good woman, and a fine, charitable lady?' asked Beulah. ' Did not she appear smooth and charming? '0, I hate hypocritical ladies! They are devils incarnate. I never have seen many of them in my day.' 'But the miniature likeness!' I said.-. 'That is conclusive. '0, he must be her husband.' 'By no means,' she replied. 'That is probably a likeness he had painted several years ago, gave it to some one, and it was 1 borrowed for the express occasion. The 1 Captain can explain it all when he comes E again.' Strange as it may seem, the words of this cunning woman did inspire me with some hope. Now I longed more than ever to see my lover. O, if he could explain all these mysteries, I should be happy once more. But, alas, how can he? And yet he may do it. Cunard may have formed a conspiracy against me and the Captain,- He is wicked enough to do it. No doubt, his feelings would prompt him to any act, which he thought would injure us. During the day my mind was, greatly troubled, and I thought of what I could do in case all the woman told me was true.- Clouds and sunshine, but principally the former, hung over me. Sometimes it seemed as if I could not live under such a severe pressure of circumstances. Evening came; but no lover, and I was obliged to pass another night in uncertainty and almost despair. Never had I passed such a sleepless, troublesome night. I found myself 'in the morning weak and nervous, and longed for the truth, whatever it might be; for uncertainty and doubt seemed more depressing to my spirits than any thing else could be. Beulah struggled to keep me up and en- courage me; but, alas!I had lost all con- fidence in her. To me she now seemed to be a corrupt, wicked woman. I thought I at last discovered the true traits of her character, and how ugly she looked. And yet my feelings were such that I caught at any thing she said which had the least ap- pearance of reason. Like a drowning per- son, I seized upon straws. Beulah reasoned and argued the case with all her ingenuity, tact, and skill. She said the woman must be false; for no wife would promise to assist a girl with whom' her bus.. band was familiar. With much force and show of reason she insisted upon it that such a course was perfectly unnatural. The page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] wife would hate such a girl instead of prom ising to befriend her. That seemed sone what reasonable to me, and gave nq soie hope that young* Cunard and that woran had formed a conspiracy against me and m lover. After dinner I was sitting at the window and saw a carriage stop at the door. Vio lently did my heart beat as I watched tIe driver spring from his seat and open the door of hiis carriage. And O, what tongue csn tell my' feelings when I saw the Captain alight.* I rushed down stairs as if new life had been given me, and opened the door ere he began to knock for admission. He looked somewhat wild;; but not so wild as I did.-- He caught me in hiis arms, and kissed me. 'flow glad I am to fold you once more Fo my loving heart,!' he said. We ,'ascended the stairs arm in arm. It seemed to me he could not have a wife and daughters, he apparently loved me so much, I Never had he appeared more fond, and I al. most forgot every thing while in his arms.-. i I was so overcome I could not speak! 'I intended to have visited you last night, but circumstances prevented mq,' he con- i tinted. 'I suppose you expected me.' o 'Idid, indeed!' I replied, with a feeble, trembling, agitated voice. 'I did not know asyou would ever come again.' c 'What made you cherish such fearful ap. h prehensions?' he asked. 'Yon might know t I should come unless sickness or death pre-'i vented.' W I now related to him all that took place t the day previous. He did not start, norin scarcely change his countenance. It seen'ed m to me he was prepared for such a demonstra- tion. Even his calmness and apparent in- Hifrneaamdme heard me through, and then brokc e in- out, into a loud laugh. His laugh seemed ne- hollow and affected. me 'Well, that farce was well played,' he an said, laughing still louder, and patting my ny head with the palm of his hand. ' That Cunard is full of' expedients, and the last ,w trick he has played is quite an ingenious o- onie. I will give hlim credit for that, It was ic an admirably contrived conlspiracy, and no- or cording to your account she played her part in well. The young rascal, no doubt, paid her an liberally for it. Well, my dear Louise, the whole affair was, managed with great skill. d I confess as much as that; but it is all a ie farce, and not a word of truth in it.' d ' But, how about that miniature likeness - of you?' I asked. 'It looks just like you. d I should recognize it in any place, or under any circumstani D 'Yes, Isee w I wonder not miniature was p ?: I a particular frie: lady, but a yow *acquainted witl . *it for the purpo young man said but his mother ::; is the same miniature, for there's not another one in existence.' Howecould I resist the conclusion that all was a farce as he declared it? I did so consider it, and again was comparatively happy. Our time passed pleasantly, and we talked of our coming marriage. lHe said he 'intended to fix upon some day before many weeks should elapse. lse thought it best that I should he removed to another board- ing house, where I should not be s much molested. I willingly consented to that; for I had become very much disgusted with ::' hunchbacked Ileulah, and lost all confi- dence in her. CHAPTER XXIV. An exciting interviews., Thle artful wcoman and the artless maid. The awoful dis.. covery. Vice, andm the dreadfulexpiation. The rewrard of Industry, integrity, and Viqtue. TIMEF passed, but I was not removed to another boarding house, and for reasons which may be apparent to the reader.-- Beullah was never half so pleasant durin g ray acquaintance with her as she was after' that woman appeared and claimed to be the wife of my lover. She even intimated one: day to me that if Captain Dunmore did forsake me, or proved to be a married man, - she would take care of me. It seemed to me she was preparing the way, and that my lover had provided here wiith money for taking care of me after he had abandoned me. But these were sus- picions only, and yet they troubled jnne ex- ceedingly. I had received another letter from John Stebbins, in which he informed me that he That time had passed, and he had not come. I-was anxious to see him, and talk with him concerning the affairs in my native village. I had answered his letter, and informed him where he might find me. Every day Iwas expecting him. Ilnmy letter Iwas careful 'not to speak of love to him, but avoided that subject altogether. I noticed, and with the keenish anguish of heart, too, that' Captain Dunmore had' grown more, cold and indifferent, and that Beulah hadf become more pleasant and agreeable. I was suspicious that there was some cause for these changes, and was anxu; ious to fiiqd it out. -should be in Boston by the first of October. Beulah went so far one morning at the bretakrast table as to say that mon were very strange creatures, and that Irmust be pre- pared for the worst. Such language and in-.' sinuations alarmed me, and I pressed the inquiry whether she thought there was the- least danger of my lover's leaving me, She rather guessed he would not; but I must 1 not be surprised at any thing that might happen in the city. page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] 'Soozi after she had thrown out such view for my consideration the Captain came. But he did not greet me with the cordialit he used to manifest. I noticed it, and ay heart sunk within me. His countenance showed that there was something upon hi mind which he wished to speak out, bu hardly knew how to commence, lie a silent and thoughtful. I dreaded to hear him utter a word; for I had fearful fore bodings of what he might say. The teais came into my eyes. lie noticed' them and turned away his face as if the sight was too m'uch for him to bear. Neither spoke for some time. That sileace was dreadful to me, and it seemed to le so to', him. At last I could hold in no longer, and broke the silence with a voice full of trembling. ' For heaven's sakre, why are you so silent,' thoughtfuland distant? I asked. ' lie turned his eyes uponmne an4 hesitated to speak; but the expression of his counl tenance spoke more lqet ha od could speak, lqetyta od '0, mir God!' I exclaimed. 'Speak, Captalin, and keep me no longer in suspense 1My heart will be broken by your silence and looks l' 'Mydear, don't you think there' is too great a' disparity in our years to warrant us , in becoming united in marriage?' hle rt - ,plied. ' His wordsifelt like iron to miy soul. Mgyf head grew gtddy, the room grew dark, and I fel upn th flor Hw 'long I remained"d I know not; but when I recovered I found myself. uponl a bed and Beulah standing t Over me with a bottle in her hand. The Captain sat by a' window in the same 'room. I leaped from the: bedl and 'rushed towards him. ::lAt. first'he thought Iwas ' deranged, Ie and :seemed :to shrink from me.' Beulahle advised cme to lie down again .and 'remain I quiet,. Y 1wS ' I'm strong now,' I replied, standing be. fore him, and gazing full into his face; 'I'm Ity prepared for the worst. Let me hear what I ny have long feared. Do you wish to cast me ce off? Speak, and tell me all! kill me, do any uis thing; b ut keep me no longer in suspense! ut o ou ntnd o eave me and your child as that is' yet unborn! Speak, and let me ar know my fate! O, God, why have I been e- permitted thus to act? Why did I not die; rs and go down to an early grave before I canie Id to this city?1' ,o 'Be calm, and reasonable,' he said. 'You shall be well provided for.' :e C'O, yes, you miay live wiith .me as ldng as ,e yTou please,' said Beulab. A sickness came over my isoul, and again I reclined upon the bed. I remained silent, and thoughtful for -a few oetadwp t, 'like a child; bi Wmnsadwp weeping. My' d had never felt a seemedd to su's s emergency. C fronted my' lov( each other, witl 'stoodi .watching I ' Are youa r manded,-in a firmtone of' voice. ' Why,' we talked that subject all over the other day,.i he replied. "And for what reason' do you wish to revive it again?-` You do not, I trust, suppose I have uttered falsehoodss?) 'God only knows!' I replied. 'But why do you speak of the gieat disparity of our ages now? Once I raised the same objec.. tion to oui' union; but you said it was of no consequence where love was ardent and mutual.' 'Our opinions are liable to obtinge,' he replied. 'I feltthen as Italked; but Icon.. fess, time has wrought a change in my feel.. ings' and, consequently, in my bpinions.-.. You need not be alarmed, for you shall be; well provideddr for. Aunt Tuttle will give you a" geod home, and I will pay her well for it.` She will treat you kindly as she al- ways bas treated you.' I walked the room in great excitement and agitation, and began to feel the spirit of hate atd 'revenge take the place of love. A wonderful:change had come over me within a fewe minlutes--such a change as I once thought impossible. How litle of our own hearts do we know, until the pressure of circumstances shall bring them to 'the test. Once I thought it impossibl'to hate him whom I loved so deeply, so ardently; but I felt now as ifh had always been false-hearted, and never loved me. That feeling I could not possess and love him at the same time. No, I be- ganl to .know and to feel that I had been wronged and abused. I was not conscious before of possessing such a spirit as now agitated inc. 'Don't be so agitated,' said Beulah, coax- ingly. 'We can live happily together and make money, even if the Captain concludes he is tho old to marry you.' "ive happily together, and make money!' I repeatetl. 'WThatmean you?' '0, I mean julst what I said,' she replied. 'You have beauty, and that will brine money in this market.' 'Gracious God!' I exclaimed. 'Would you have me live the life of a w'anton?-- IDo you mean that, strange woman!' At that moment a loud knocking was heard at the door, and JBeulah opened it, and there stood a woman with a child in her arms who asked if M2r. Hurd was in the house. I listened and heard what was said. 'No such man, here,' replied Beulah, at. tempting to shut the door in the woman's face. It seemed to me I had heard that voice before, and Ished down stairs. O, heavens, what strange emotions pressed my heart when I saw that mysterious Josehpihine Mel- ville' standing at the door with a child in her arms! The words she once spoke to me came rushing into my memory. She re- ceived me cordially; but there was a "deep shade of melancholy on her countenance, and` a strange wildness in her eyes. 'Yes, Mr. Hurd is here, or he 'often comes here,' said Josephine. 'He is here now,' I said, wondering what would turn up next. 'Heis nlot,' said Beulab, standing before the young mother, who was trying to pass her. and ascend the stairs. ' I' know he is, and I must see him,' said 'Josephine; pressing forward, in spite of the hunchback's opposition. She quickly followed me up stairs, and entered the room where the deceiver sat.- He gazed upon her a moment, and. then cast his eyes upon the floor, as if the stings of his conscience were doing their faithful work. '0', you wretched, miserable man l"'she exclaimed. LookE into your own child's face and see if there's any resemblance to his false-hearted father. '.The woman must be crazy,' he said, en. deavoring to collect his scattered thoughts, and appear cool and- calm. 'Crazy!' she repeated. 'Yes, I was crazy when 1' listened to your promises of marriage and yielded to your corrupt de- sires; but I'm not crazy now. Take your' child and learn it to lisp the name of father. The brutes recognize their offspring, and care for then! Be not thou worse thian) they. Take your child and' beware o['a woman's revenge! The time may 'niot be far distant when you swill feel ita scathing power!' She thrust the child into his lap, and left page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] it there. Then turning to me, she con- tinued. ' Avoid that old viper, for he will sting you at last. Perhaps we may meet again!, Before I had time to ask her a single question she rushed down stairs, and left the house. There sat Mr. Hurd, (for that was his name) with a crying child in his arms, and his own child, too! I will not attempt to describe my feelings and emotions on that occasion. I sank into a chair, buried my face in my hands; but my tears came to my relief. The child continued to cry, and the father appeared in great trouble. 'Give me the brat,' said the unfeeling Beulah, taking the child, and attempting to quiet it. I remained silent, and let his own con, science work; for it seemed to be exercising its office upon the false-hearted man. At lastkhe rose and paced the root; my eyes weroapon him, and I hoped the arrows of conviction had transfixed his soul. P 'Confess, that you are a false-hearted wicked man,' I said, in a clear, distinct voice. A Confess while it is not forever too late. Behold the ruins your wicked pas- sions have caused. I hate you, but I once loved you. I now see the blackness of your heart.' Just as I had'finished my speaking, a knocking was heard at the door, and I hastened; down to answer the call as Beulah was busy with the crying child. I opened St the door, and there stood before me John Stebbins, the young blacksmith. I knewS not whether tO be glad or sorry. I invited him in, and we entered the room together. Of He was nmulch agitated; for he saw my wild in looks. Ife t that I had found a friend, and at a moment, too, Lwenr I most needed one. sm Mr. Hurd still kept his hairr and gazed upon not us. I made some inqui:;es about my mother my which Stebbins ;a:,w( ;kd; bat with a trem- she on- bling voice. He was evidently much af. vill fected, and gazed wildly upon me. In a few eet moments Hurd stopped his walking and stood looking upon us. gle The way of the transgressor is indeed :he hard,' said Hurd, looking as if he was greatly ras troubled, This young man is from Maine, Qs, I conclude, and not only your acquaintance, ipt but a friend in whom you can confide.' 'at 'He is so, and would to God you had ny proved such!' I replied. ny Let that pass,' he said. 'You need not he wish me more trouble than I know feel.- My wife has left me, and my daughters are 'g in tears. I confess I have wronged you, and to all I can do to atone for the injuries I have done is to give you the means of living l respectably Iperceive this young man has g loved you, and probably does now. I made no reply, bt f thoughtful, while Stebbi petrified with astonishme false-hearted man said, he :'but give me money. Bu compensation is all the gol world for that which I ha, was resolved to take all he give me. Again he paced mIl room in great agitation; first gazing upon me, and then upon the young blacksmith, whom he thus addressed. ' Meet me in two hours from this time in State Street.' 'I know not where that street is,' replied Stebbins. 'Never mind, I will be here in the course of an hour,' said Hurd, leaving apparently in much hurry and agitation. I was left alone with the young black- smith, and O, how strangely I felt! Will not undertake the task of' describing either my own emotions or his. Many tears were shed by both. Beulah was in her little cook room at- tempting to quiet the child who instinctively shrank from her. It. cried, and O, what anguish was in my soul! The words of the broken-hearted mother came forth into my memory! I feared she would commit some dreadful act. The false-hearted Hurd returned, and handed me a roll of bank bills, the largest I ever saw. I took the money, but returned him no thanks. It was not in my heart to thank him. Had I attempted to do so the words would have stuck in my throat. After giving me the money, he sought Beulah, conversed with her a few minutes, and left the house. Assisted by Stebbins, I departed from this boarding house where I had experienced so many strange and conflicting emotions. I longed to see Josephine; and addressed her a note where she might find me. Stebbins did not forsake me; but endeavored to do every thing in his power to make me happy. O, how grateful I felt to him for his kind- ness and attention while I was thus ldis- graced. ; Three days after I found a new boarding place. One evening, Josephine, or rather, !Elizabeth Moore, (for that was her name,) rushed into my room, wild and frantic.- Never have I seen such an expression of countenance as she possessed. 'I have done it! I have done it!' she Bx- claimed, laughing, as a maniac laughs, and pulling a bloody dagger from her, bosonm.- 'YesI have done it-! Revenge is sweet, and I have found it. I ask no more! .The false man is bleeding and dying!' i Before I had time to make a single in- quiry, she was gone. The next morning her body was found in the dock. She had drowned herself, hot, however, before she had given a mortal wound to her seducer. Mr. Hurd lingered a few days and died in great agony. ' It seemed to me I had seen enough of city life; but I dared not go home, neither t could 1 remain contented in Boston. I finally concluded to go to New York. I did so, and the young blacksmith accompanied me. He would not forsake me in all my troubles and misfortunes. After the new year came in I gave birth to an' infant whose life continued but a few days. We remained in New York during the following Spring, were married, and removed to my native village. I had money; but O, how much like a dream did the past year of my life seem! No one in the village, except my mother and husband, knew my history for the last twelve months. What become of Beulah Tuttle, I never knew; but I heard that the widow Topway died a miserable death. It was supposed that her negro servant had murdered her and stolen much of her ill-gotten money.- She was found dead in her house, and no traces of the negro could be found after- wards. Young Canard continued to follow the sins which so easily beset him, and was at last shot in a gambling hell. Thus we see proofs on every hand that the way of the. transgressor is hard. The story of a few brief months 6I my life is told. And if the reading shall open the eyes of a single young man or woman to the evil temptations of a city, life I shall feel myself amply rewarded for the trouble ,of writing it. ' Let young ladies take warning from these pages; and remember all is not gold that glitters. The. immortal Bard of Avon hath said: 'As surfeit is the' father of much fast, So every scope by immoderate use,.,r Turns to restraint; Our natures do pur- sue, (Like rats that raven down their proper bane,) A thirsty evil: and when we drink we die.'E EN THE END. page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] WOMAN'S LOVE. SOME years ago there lived upon the ro- mantic shores of Long Island a young maid- en named Aileen. She was beautiful, and ,of noble and generous disposition. Nigh to her father's house resided a youtn called Connor, handsome as Apollo, and brave as Achilles, Aileen loved this youth, but was not loved in' ieturn.-his affections were cast upon another maiden, worthy of love certainly, but tiot possessing one-half the charms of Aileen. The latter pined on in secret grief. Each day ihat she saw Connor go down to his boat a01 sail out to sea a tide of blood woudi rush from her heart, and leave her al- most fainting with excess of passio. She watched him when he sought the hills with his gun upon his shoulder, and her eyes 1 traced him up the steep mountain path with ' a sick yet loving gaze. But, oh! what untold suffered wien, in the gli nings, as the sun was sea, and the grey twiligt..., ...UIFg lie a fox from the hills, she beheld Connor and his betrothed wandering along the fragrant beach, with twining arms and almost touch- ing cheeks. Then the gorgeous clouds that floated in the western sky, seemed to her distempered fancy to change into faces that stared at her with fierce mockery, while the azure heavens glowered upon her with myriads of sneering eyes. As time- wore on, so much the deeper did her vain love eat into her soul and inflame her brain. Connor knew not this. He knew not that the hollow eyes and pale cheek which now never deserted Aileen, were all the fruitsof love for him. When he met her, he was kind and gentle to the suffering girl-never dreaming that each soft word he uttered planted a fresh arrow in her torn bosom. Nay, once even he saved her from an imt minent danger, bore her itt hisarms' to her father's cottage, when, if he had but known the despair that racked her heart, he would have left her to perish rather than restore her to a life which was nothing but one vast long calendar of anguish. At last, the passion that burned within her- became too great to be concealed. She de- termined to make known to Connor her de- vouring secret. Before doing so, however, she thought she would consult the Spirit of the Hill, who dwelt in a vast breezy cave, on the summit of a high mountain, and endeavor to discover from him some means of winning Connor to' her side. One starry night, when the summer" dews were falling like a gentle rain, and nought living was on foot save the fox and the wild cat, Aileen left her restless bed, and stealing softly from the lhousei toqk the wild and rug- ged path that led to the summit of the moun- tain. As she trod that broken and uncertain Tfootway, strange fancies haunted her. She walked, surrounded by a fearful mist of horrors. At length she reached the -summit of the mountain, and wended her steps to the cave where dwelt the Spirit of the hill. Large grey clouds continually veiled the entrance of this solemn place, and within, the plain- tive winds chanted all night and day their mountain hymns. Aileen stood upon the rocky threshold, and with a bold and fearless voice, called upon the spirit. A long, hollow moan, that sounded like the voice of some banished year, replied to her summons. 'Spirit of the Hill I' she cried, I summon thee to answer me. How shall I attain either happiness or death? Tell me, thou unseen being, how to win Connor or to die!' A moment's pause, .nd then the answer came from the depths of the cave in tones like those of the tempest in a forest. ' eek the cave of Barlagh to-morrow eve,' said the voice of the Spirit, and there wilt thou find rest.' 'Thanks, thanks!' cried Aileen, as the murmurs died away a'ong the hill. 'To- morrow, then, I shall perhaps rest in Connor's arms.' She trod the downward path that night with a lighter step than she had known for months; and, happy in the belief that heaven. had at last taken pitj on her hopeless love, she sought her bed, and sank lightly into slumber. The evening sun was sinking into an amber sea, when Aileen, full of hope, sought this cave of Barlagh. As she urged herlittle boat through the rapids with a steady' hand, her heart beat wildly in her bosom, and de- lightful visions full of bliss and love floated between her and the gorgeous sky . X That destiny would lead Connor to the' ave, a nd that there, through the interven. tion of the Spirit of the Hill, he would re- ward her attachment by a return of the .pas- sion, Aileen felt quite assured. 'No shadow of misfortune clouded her soul. No forbid- ding angel stood between her and the para- dise of her imagination. The foaming waves of the' rapids soon brought her little skiff abreast of the cavern mouth, and sweeping round the rocky corner, she was about to enter, when a blue pigeon flew wildly out and almost skimmed her face. She started, and had scarcely time to utter an ejaculation of surprise, when a loud re. port rang through the echoing chambers of the cavern, and she fell back in the stern. page: 100-101 (Advertisement) [View Page 100-101 (Advertisement) ] - sheets, with her lifeblood welling from her * .bosom. , . '" . " ' , . Another second, and a boat shot out ra- pidly from the dusky ,cave, and Connor, who stood in the prow with his gun smoking in hi-i hand, beheld with horror the form of the 'bleeding girl. He jumped wildly into her boat, and lift- ing her in his arms, tried invain to arrest 'the flight of her ebbing soul. Then there, with that solemn cave-temple rising grandly above her head, and none to ldock upon her agony save Him arid the gold- en sun-there, in that hour of mortal trial, with the last energies of life quivering and flickering upon her lips, did Aileen pour into Connor's ear the history of her despairing ibve. I him of her long days of misery w, of her sleepless nights, of her ; retched soul. She told him how ungovernable, was her love for how she strove in yain to conquer Ald not. She related to him how i ought the Spirit of the Hill, and o -y he had given. : X . , r. ' He was right!' she said faintIy, for her voice was growing weaker each moment ' and, the shades of death were . creeping O across her pale face. ' The Spirit was right. I am dying in your arms, Connor; and is e not that finding rest?' Sadly and. sorrowfully did Connor hang over, the dying girl. Pained by her sad ;his. tory, wrung with despair at having been the innocent cause of her death, nought but the remembrance that he had some one to live for prevented him from terminating his ex. istence Swith his own hand. But he knew that there were longing eyes and anxious hearts which awaited his return, and he re. frained. Aileen was now neas of death was still her dying eyei lips moved and tol sound, that her farewell. This , .I . When the last si ; its golden shad . ocean, her spirit ' X *v . Printed and Sold by Geo. H. Williams, 52 Washington street, Boston, And for sale at all Periodical Depots throughout the United Staes. THE PRINCE OF THE GOLD HNTERS. -ALSO- II IX C AIFORNIA;I -OR - THE TREASURE-SEEKERS' EXPEDITION. BY CHARLES E. AVERILL. NANCY WATERMAN; OR, WOMAN'S FAITH TRIUMPHANT. A STORY OF NEW YORK CITY. lTliEIIIA IOQlUOIS. ldlilYzi *OA TALE OF NEW YORK CITTS BY OSGOOD BRADBURY, Esq., Author of ' The Masked Needle-Vender, &c. REGINA; - -OR THE- COUNTESS AND THE GAMEKEEPER. EA16 as "Bk& gp iBCTb page: 102 (Advertisement) [View Page 102 (Advertisement) ] and for sale at al: the -Periodical :JDepots' in ,the United States and the Canada t - - SWHOLESALE AGENTS: : ,A.. WINCH, 116 Chesnut Street, Philadelphia. W:;Wbl-: ., & HENRY TAYOR, 1"Baltimore Street, Baltimore. i .CB. -AGLEY,; 169 Main Street, Cincinnati. j A. fROYS. 43 Woodward Avenue, Detroit. ,. I:;/J : WOnI)WARD, Corner Fourth and Chesnut Streets, St. Louis. :.IO'1.t t AS LUtNNi, New Orleans, La. DEBMAt:RS & SCHENCK, Cleveland, Ohio. - W. W ,DANENHOWER, 123 Lake Street, Chicago, Ill. ' 3ng Wharf, 'San Francisco, California. , N -.All the'above Pblicati!s may be obtained at all .tPeriodical Depots,'aot -of the New eats in anfy part of the United states and the Canadahe ' iE Tof' o the 25 centh'oks will be sold for $1 00. Select from the above, and the books i I sent aerding to we t Wtt either b mail or by express. ]U, : '&!l ander.'wi;oejWe prompt attention at eit - of thes places. I. ;D I , % -laces.2
