Newspaper of Burlington Free Press, April 28, 1843, Page 1

ttt fvtt fte NOT TUB GLORY OF CA1SAB BUT THE WELFARE OF ROME VOL. XVI. BURLINGTON, VERMONT, FRIDAY, APRIL 28, 1843. No. 48 THE BEAUTIFUL. BY MRS. 8I00CSNEV. To a bright bud, with heart of flume, The angel of the seasons came, Took its green shenth and hood away And turned its forehead to the day, And from its blushing depths updrew A stream of incense pure as dew. ' He kissed its check, and went his way And then a form, with temples gray, Stood at its side, and taught it how To skrink, to shrivel, and to bow, On the brown mould its lip to lay, And blend with sweet things pass away. To a fair maid, in beauty's spring, Love's Angel came on radient wing, Nerved her light foot to skim the plain, And made her voice a music strain, And clasped his cestus o'er her breast, Till every cyeher power confessed. Another form, with shadowy dart, Pressed to her couch and chilled her heart; Pale grew the brow with roses fired, And her last breath in groans expired : But that which bound her to the sky Escaped his shaft it could not dit. UNWRITTEN DRAMA or LORD BYRON. BY WASHINGTON IRVING. The reading world has, I apprehend, by this time become possessed of nearly every scrap of poetry and romance ever written by Lord By ron. It may be pleasing however to know something of a dramatic poem which he did not write, but which he projected and this is the story. The hero, whom we will call Alfonso, is a Spanish nobleman, just entering upon the ca recr nf life. His passions, from early and un restrained indulgence, have become impetuous and ungovernable, and he follows their impulses with a heedless disregard of consequences. Soon after his entrance into the world, lie finds himself followed) occasionally, in public places, by a person masked and muffled up so as to conceal both countenance and figure. He at first pays but little attention to the cir cumstance, considering the stranger some idle or impertinent lounger about society. By de grees, however, the frequent intrusion of this silent and observant follower, becomes extreme ly irksome. The mistery too, which envelopes himself, heightens the annoyance. Alfonso 'is unable to identify him with any of his acquain tancehis name, his country, his place of abode all are unknown ; and it is impossible even to conjecture his motives for this singular es pionage. It is carried, by degree?, to such lengths, that he becomes, a's it were, Alfonzo's shadow his second self. Not only the most private actions of the latter pass under the scru tiny of his officious monitor but his most se cret thoughts seem known to him. Speak of him he stands by his side ; think of him he feels his presence, though invisible, oppress mid weigh upon his spirits, like a troubled atmos phere. Waking or sleeping, Alfonso has him in thought or in view. He crosses his path at every turn; like the demon in Faust, he intru des in his solitude. He follows him in the crowded street, or the brilliant sabo,n thwart ing his schemes, and marring all his intrigues of love or ambition. In the giddy mazes of the dance, in which Alfonso is addressing his fair partner with the honeyed words of seduction, he sees the stranger pass like a Bhadow before him; a voice, like the voice of his own soul, whisper" in his ear j the words of seduction die from hi lips; he no longer hears the music of the dance. The hero of the drama becomes abstrae'ed and gloomy. Youth, health, wctlth, power, all that promised to give zest to life, have st their charm. The sweetest cup of pie:" e becomes poison to him. Existence is a burden. To add to his despair, he doubts the fidelity of the fair but frail of his affection; and suspects the unknown to have supplanted him in her thoughts. Alfonso now thirsts only for vengeance; but the mysterious stranger eludes his pursuit, and his emissaries in vain endeavor to discover his retreat. At length he succeeds in tracing him to the house of his mistress, and attacks him with the fury of frantic jealousy, taxes him with his wrongs, and demands satisfaction. They fight; his rival scarcely defends himself; a't the first thurst he receives the sword of Alfonso in his bosom, and in falling exclaims, 'Are vou satisfied!' ' The mask and mantle of the unknown drop- pcu on, ana aiioiiso discovers nis own image me spectre 01 nimseu ne aies witn horror i The spectre is an allegorical being, the per sonffication of conscience, or the passions. Such was the general plan of a poem which Lord Byron had in mind, several years since; and which he communicated, in conversation, to Captain Mcdwin, from whom I received nearly in the foregoing words. The idea was taken from a Spanish play, called the Embezado or the bneapatado, and was furnished to Uyron by Shetly, as his lordship did not understand Spanish. The foregoing plan is somewhat vague and immature, and would doubtless have undergone many modifications in the progress of being bought out. Lord Byron intended to treat it in the genuine spirit ol Goethe, as dis played in his wild and extraordinary drama of Faust, and expected to make rt very effective. It certainly affords ample scope' for the mystic, the misanthropic, the metaphysical, and the ro mantic, in which he so much delighted; and would have given him an opportunity of inter weaving much of his own peculiar feelings and experience. How far the plan he had in view agreed with the Spanish original I have not been able to as certain. The latter was said to be by Caldftr Prom tha Montreal Literary Gazette. THE BROKEN MIRROR. A TRUE TALE. D V lilt). MOOD1E. CHAPTER FIRST. Providence is always true to those that remain truo to themselves. Dry your tears, dear mother. This vio lent grief destroys your health, without alter ing in tlio smallest degree our present cir cumstances. Look forward with hope to the future. Belter days aro in storo for us.' ' Robert Harden, you speak like n boy perfectly unacquainted with the trials of life,' said the widow, in no very gentle voice, for sorrow and disappointment had soured u hitherto even temper, and rendered her peev ish and irritable. What prospect havo wo of bettering our condition Who is there amongst all our summer friends who would put themselves to the least inconvenience to help us ? Havo they not nil deserted us in our distress ? All all,' and hero she buried her fiice in her handkcrchief,and wept afresh. 'Themis One, mother, who never de serts His children in distress ; who, when tlio world forsakes tliem , lias promised to hold them up, trust in Him, and all will be well. The poor widow looked up into the face of her fine boy, and smilfd through her tears : ' Robert, where did you learn this lesson of faith?' 4 Of you, mother. Who else taught me to love God, and to trust in His divine prov idence, but you?' ' Ah, my son ! these heavy afflictions have made mo forgetful of my duty. In the hour of trial I have forgotten Cod. Pray forme, Robert. I have often prayed and wept for you. Pray that strength may be given to me, to bear with resignation my present on ; but it is not to be found in any 'edition of hii works that I have Been. My curiosity being awakened on the subject, I made diligent inqui ry, while in Spain, for the play in question, but it was not to be met with in any of the public libraries, or private collections ; nor could the booksellers give me any information about it. Some of the most learned and indefatigable col lectors of Spanish literature informed me that a play of that kind, called the Emboiado nf Cor dova, was somewere in existence, but they had never seen it. The foregoing sketch of the plan may hcreaf. ter suggest a rich theme to a poet or dramatist of the Byron school. Irish Denial. A young Hibernian who was endeavoring to obtain a situation, denied that he was an Irish boy, "I don't know what you mean by not being an Irish boy." says the gentleman, who was about to hire him ; "but this I'll swear, that you were born in Ireland." ' Och your honor, if that's all," said the boy, "small blame to that ; suppose I had been born in a stable, would I have been a horse .'" Curious. Take a string that will reach just twice around the neck of a lady let her hold the two ends between her teeth and then if the noose will slip over her head to the back of tho neck, it is a certain indication that she is married or ought to be. There is philosophy in mis, anu nu iiuwiuicijr. 'My eon hold up your head, and tell me who was me strongest man. 'Jonah.' Why sol' 'Cause the whale couldn't hold him after he got mm oown,- grief.' Her head sunk upon the bosom of the tall lnd, whoso willing arms fondly encircled her drooping figure, as, after some moments, their tears flowed silently together. Youth, especially virtuous youth, is ever hopeful ; and Robert Harden possessed a mind too ac tive and independent to waste its energies in unavailing regret. He and a brother, two years younger, were tlio only children of a wealthy merchant in Edinburgh. During their father's lifetime, they had enjoyed all the comforts and luxuries which competence can bestow. Their education had been con ducted on a liberal scale ; and the boys were just beginning to profit by their advantages, when tlio head ot Hie family was suddenly called away by death. This was a dreadful blow to his widow and young sons. It was so unloosed for so unexpected. Ho had been taken from them, at a moment's warn ing, in the very prime of life. The affec tionate, loving husband tho fond, indulgent father; could any grief equal this I was a question which they often asked themselves, in the first s.id days of their melancholy be reavement. The friends and neighbors who Oled upon Mrs. Harnduu after the funeral, inpted to console her, by representing to .'r r the independent circumstances in which she had been left. Mr. Harden had been a man of property she and her children would want for no comfort there were thousands in worse circumstances this thought should be enough to console and mitigate her grief. Poor Mrs. Harden loved her husband ten derly, and these worldly considerations had never entered her mind since, the dark mo ment in which she found herself for ever de prived of her bosom friend and companion. Uoukl she have derived any satisfaction Irom these circumstances, she was doomed to un dergo a still further trial a still deeper dis appointment. To the surprise ot Ins menus and family. when they came to look into Mr. Hardeu's affairs for ho bad died without a will they discovered that lie Had died a poor man; that when all Ins creditors were paid, there would bo no provision left for his family. He had entered inlo speculations of a very doubtful nature whether deceived bv him self or others, nono could tell and his losses bad been so extensive, that it was supposed that the sudden reverses in bis fortune, which he had not had courage to declare to bis wife, had pressed so heavily upon his mind, that it nau tun io ins premature death. The loss of her husband had been severe ly folt by Mrs. Harden ; but when the loss of all his properly left her entirely denenden for support upon the charity of others, tho I l...l.J C I . . iuur wiuuw iuikuu lorinuuo to near up against tho blow. She wept unceasingly reiuscd an sustenance and sunk into a stu por, from which the commonplace condo lence of friends, who offered no other than I verbal assistance, failed to arouse her. The return of her sons from school, and the bit ter consciousness of all they had lust by their Cither's death, served for a time to renew her gfief. Their presence, however, was a great comfort; and tin' manly and affection ate conduct of the elder, in some measure reconciled her to tho mournful change. Kooerf Harden, although a mero boy of ixteon, immediately comprehended their sit uation, and saw that something must be done In enable them to provido for the future. Ho had endeavored to preparo Ins mother s mind for the alteration in their circumstan ces. Ho tried to convince her that poverty, although an evil, was an ovil which, if borno with becoming tortitude, might bo subdued, or, at any rate, softened ; and that ho was able and willing to work for a parent whom he dearly loved. But poor Mrs. Harden was not willing that her fine boys, who had been educated as the sons of gentlemen, should work ; and the most severe trial she was called to endure, was seeing them forced to leave their studies, and give up the pros j I, i . . . pect ol nonourauie advancement, to toil in some menial capacity, to obtain bread. The mother and son were still locked in each othor's arms, when a little round-faced man, in a broad-brimmed hat, with specta cles on his nose, peeped into the room, and, seeing the widow and her son in tears, hur ricd forward, and commenced a conversation in the following abrupt manner: ' tlout woman! wilt thee never cease weeping I Have mair trust in God. I bring thee glad tidings 1 ' What is it, Mr. Sylvestor V said Robert, advancing to meet tho old Quaker, who shook him cordially by tho hand. ' Good news could never como at a more acceptable time.' ' Can'st thee bear a little hardship, young man, for thy mother's sake ? ' ' Anything, my dear sir. I will work for her beg for her do any thing, but steal, for her.' ' Be not too confident, Robert Harden. Better men than thee have broken God's commandments to satisfy the wants of na ture. Necessity, Robert Harden, knows no law. Hunger teaches men strange secrects. Albeit I am no advocate for theft ; and like to see thee forward in spirit to help thy mo ther. Tho news I have for theo is simply this: thy uncle William and bis family are about to leave Glasgow, und emigrate to the Cape of Good Hope. He and thy father wero both engaged in the samo speculations, which have proved their ruin, I do not wonder at thy fulher entering into such vain schemes, for he was a dreamer. But that thy hard, money-gelting, worldly-minded, shrewd uncle, should be so deceived, doth surprise me not a little. Well, well, some men grow rich with little pains, and others take as much trouble to make themselves poor. But this has nothing to do with that which 1 came to tell. Several respectable families have joined themselves to thy uncle's party; and if thee and thy mother and bro ther art willing to accompany the expedition, and try your fortunes in the strange land, I will, out of respect to thy father's memory, pay the expenses of the voyage. More than this, though willing to befriend thee, I can not do. I have a family, friend Roberl a large young family and children must be fed.' ' Ah, sir ! how can I express my thanks ?' cried the eager Robert, warmly grasping tho old man's hand, and a prophetic glance into the far-off future flashed upon his mind. Gladly do I accept your kind offer, and here faithfully promise to repay you any sum of monoy advanced for our benefit, when God shall havo blessed my honest endeavors to provide for the wants nf my family.' Softly, sofilv. friend Robert : manv dif ficulties have to be met and overcome before wo can talk of that. Be contented with the present : leave the future to Him, who has promised to provido for tho fatherless, and has bade the widow trust in Him. Wn will talk of remuneration when thou art an inde pendent man, which I one day hope thee to be. Dost thou think that thv mother and brother will be willing to accompany theo ?' itoDert turned an inquiring eye upon bis mother, and was not a little mortified and sur prised to mark the anxious and alarmed man ner in which she returned his glance. ' And what in the world should we do nt tho Cape V As others have done before us dear mo ther : learn to work.' ' I cannot work, Robert. Mv constitu tion is broken : I am growing old and feeble.' 'No one thinks of vour working. Wil- iam and I are young and strong. Wo will work fur you ' In that weary land ! ' Tho climate is beautiful 1 ' And the wild beasis ! ' ' Will not harm you, while the hunting of mem win lorm deliglitlul amusement tor a eisure hour. And the dreadful heat ! ' cried the reluc tant widow, heaping objection upon objection. ' Is not so great as you imagine it to be, heard a gentleman, who had spent many years nt tho Cape, tell my master that it was tar plcasantcr than the hot season in Britain ; that the sea breeze, which blows steadily on the shore all day, tempered, and rendered it lar Irom oppressive, ' bay no more about it, Robert ; I cannot consent to go. Anne Harden, thee wilt think better of it, said the Quaker, who had been attentive ly listening to tho dialogue between the mo ther and son. ' Robert is willing to sacri fice all for theo, and wilt thou do nothing for him in return ?' Tho widow was struck with the old man's last observation. She looked down and was silent. ' I have taken thee by surprise. Tho question I have put to the requires mature consideration. I will call again to-morrow, for when once thy resolution is taken little time can bo lost. By tho bye,' he continued with a lively air, 1 when does tho sale take place 1 This splendid furniture, if it goes on well, will nearly satisfy all the creditors that remain unpaid.' ' On Monday, I believe, sir,' said Robert, glancing mournfully round the handsome fur nished apartment, which they could no lon ger call their own. ' You, sir, aro one of tho principal of these creditors ; will you grant my aear motlicr a small tavor I Let me hear it, friend.' ' You see that largo Italian mirror : it was a present Irom my grandfather to mv mother: it had'been for many years in his family, and -1 ;. i r. iii auu print s it very uigniy ; sue cannot near to part Willi it.' ' A useless piece of vanity, friend Robert Ask soinelliingjiiore profitable than the looking-glass.' My poor mother has set her heart upon ' Humph !' said the Quaker. ' It has worn well, and seen good service. A real Turkey. We have no such carpets manu factured now. Well, thee shall have the carpet ; but I can grant no more on my own responsibility. If thee wishest to retain all the gifts of thy kindred, we shall have but a poor sale.' ' 1 am contented to part with all the rest,' said Mrs. Harden, with a sigh. ' Who knows but this Utile may be the means of restoring to us, the wealth we have lost 1 I feel some thing whisper to my heart that wo shall have luck with it.' ' Be not too sanguine, friend ; winds and waves often disappoint our best hopes; hold all things here with a loose hand. Thee hast already experienced the instability of earth ly riches. Seek for treasures in Heaven, Anne Hnrdcn ; treasures of which no hungry f.rlltn. fan rtnn.iun lliaa t creditor can deprive thee, So saying, the worthy man withdrew, leaving the mother and her two sons to con sult over their future plans. 'Perhaps there will be something over for us, mother,' said William, who had just join ed them, ' after all things are sold. You know the sale of the landed property paid most of the heavy debts.' ' I am sure there ought to be,' returned Mrs. Harden, glancing with an eye in which pride still lingered, around the room. 'The furniture is very handsome, and, if it sells for its real valuo, there must bo a large sum to spare. The side-board alono is worth twenty pounds the sofas as much more and as to the dining-table, there is not one so handsome in any merchant's house in tho city. It ought to sell forty pounds at east.' This was, however, valuing every article at mo price ii originany cost, lor the poorwia ow, like many other elderly ladies, consid ered that years greatly increased tho value of everything belonging to them. CHAPTER SECOND. it." Nonsense, Robert Harden ! Theb.ook must serve theo for a mirror. I will not con sent to part with the vain toy.' t Mere will be enough to pay the credi tors without it,' said Mrs. Harden ;' at least so Mr. Munroe informed me. If we aro obliged to go to South Africa, it might sell weuatL.apn town perhaps lor double its value. It cost, I believo,a hundred guineas.' tools and their money aro soon parted, returned tlio Quaker. Friend Anne, there is more sense in thy last observation than has proceeded out of thy mouth the whole morn ing. If thou wantest tho glass to sell, it is mine ; but il it bo only with the view of con linuing a certain idle worship, which, at thy years, thou should'st long ere this have lain aside, I should consider it an act of duty to deny thy request. Is there any other artido thou wishes! reserved lor thyself' The drawing-room carpet,' said Mrs, Harden. . ' It was the gift of my dear undo wnen i nrst went house-Keeping now eieli teen years ago.' THE SALE. Monday came at last, and all the world went to the sale of Mrs. Harden's effects that is, all the good people which composed me worm ol the large street in which Mr. Harden had for years carried on an extensive business, and had been looked upon by his neighbors as one of the richest men in the place. How condescending they all were to the poor widow on that day ; how they commented upon and nitied the unfor tunate circumstances which had placed her in her present mortifvinr situation : and that without any regard to the feelings of the poor sufferer, whose presence was deemed necessary by her friends, on this try ing occasion. Whilst discussing tho value of the beautiful mahogany dining-table. a group of these sympathisers quite forgot they nau partaken trom It ot i. sumptuous meal. Hut times wero altered now. Tho widow of John Harden was poor, and they wero rich. It was quite right that pride should have a fall, and her acquaintance was val ued accordingly. What havo you dono with the fine mir ror, Mrs. Harden!' asked one of the ladv inspectors of the furniture. If it went very cheap, I should like to buy it for my draw ing room. ' It will not bo sold, ma'am, returned Robert. My mother will take it with her to the Cape.' ' Bless me ! Mrs. Harden ! what use will you find for such a costlv mirror as that amongst the Caffres and Hottentots ? Onu would imagine that it is one of the last things upon earth that you would require,' said the disappointed applicant. The old fool ! ' whispered another kind neighbor. ' I always told you, Mrs. Hutton, that Mrs. Harden was the vainest woman in town. You will believe me now.' ' Does Mr. Sylvester know, ma'am, that the mirror has been kept back!' asked tho atoresaid Mrs. Hutton, with a spiteful twin klo of her envious black eves. ' It will spoil the sale. For my part, it was the only thing mat l tnougnt worth coming so far to pur chase. The rest of the urticles.' she mut tered, in an under tone, to Mrs. Barry, aro old-fashioned trash not worth lookinr at.' How the heart of the poor widow swelled at tins allrnnt to her household gods and god desses. These Lares, that, for eighteen years, slio had been accustomed to regard with such silent homage: in the keening in good order of which, she and her numerous Abigails had bestowed so many hours of time, which might have been better employed, in the rubbing and polishing, and which she justly considered had been ohjects of envy mm iiumiration to nor less weaitny neighbors. rtuu uau ii como to tlnsr was slio doomed to bear them openly despised by a vulgar, low-bred woman, who had never been able to purchase anything half so costly J A phi losopher would laugh at such a ridiculous causo for grief. But Mrs. Harden was no philosopher she was a weak, erring wo man, still too much in love with the world, and the world's paltry preiudlces. not to feel these things very keenly. How often must our nopes be disappointed our warm affec tions crushed and our generous confidence abused, before the mind rises superior to the selfish usages of society, and. leaving tho friendships of earth, seeks the approbation of conscience, the conhuenroand lovo ot Uod! Glorious adversity ! despised as thou art by the sons of men, from ihce all that is great and noble in our naturo emanates. It is on ly thou which teachest us a knowledge of sen, anu me insumciency of human means to satisfy the heart. t ho sale went on without the mirror, and the furniture sold better than Mr. Sylvester expected ; nay, such was the eagerness of peopio to buy bargains, that old, worn-out carpets and curtains sold for as much as they cost when now, while things of real value wero purchased for a trifle. ' Is it not vexing,' whispered the widow to Mr. Sylvester, as he bustled amongst the crowd, encouraging purchasers or iuuicious ly bidding on any article which he thought was going loo low, ' to seo the good articles given away in this manner' 1 Never mind, friend,1 said the Quaker. rubbing his hands with a satisfied air ; 1 the sale's a good sale after all. If the drawing- I room brings but (mall returns, the kitchen and pantry do wonders. Why, friend, I saw a man, who should be a better judge of the value of such articles, buy an iron pot, with a crack across the bottom, for as much as it cost new. So cheer up. and set one thing against another.' Tho auction at last closed. The non bidders wore dissatisfied with their over-caution, and tho purchasers went away, rejoic ing in their bargains. The more unprofita bly they had laid out their money, the great er boast they made of their own sagacity. Mrs. Harden and her sons sat down to rest themselves in one of tho unfurnished rooms, to partake of some ham sandwiches, which the good Quaker had provided before they bade adieu for over to the home of years. Nothing of their former grandeur now re mained to console them, but tho large mir ror, (which s'ill hung suspended from tlio wall, reflecting soiled clothes and careworn visages,) and the drawing-room carpet, which rolled up at the end of the room, afforded them a seat. The change seemed to strike painfully on every heart. The widow wept ; and the boys, though really hungry, scarcely tasted the food in the basket at their feet. Robert was the first to break silence : ' Well, dear mother.it's all over with now,' he said, affectionately kissing her pale check. ' For your sake, I am glad that it is over. While we continued to live in this fine house, we could never convince ourselves that it had ceased to belong to us, and that we were poor and destitute. We know it now, and my mind is braced to bear it. The only thing which remains to trouble us is this large mirror. I almost wish it had been sold with the rest.' And so do I,' said William ; but 'tis a whim of mamma's, and we must try to pleaso her. Mr. Sylvester has sent a large caso to pack it up in. You will find it in the next room.' ' Well, boys, you laugh at my venture, said Mrs. Harden, ' but 1 trust, with the bles sing of God, it may be the means of obtain ing for us the necesssries of life in the strange land in which we arc destined to sojourn. ' We will be very careful in packing it up, then,' said William, with a sly glance at his brother ; ' for you seem, mamma, to think that it contains as many magical properties as Aladin s tar-tamcd lamp. ' We will wrap it up in the carpet first ; it will protect it from injury,' returned Robert, springing to the task. It took tho mother and sons about an hour to pack up the beautiful mirror to their own satisfaction, and when this important affair was adjusted to their mutual liking, it was carefully deposited in the hand-barro v, which the old Quaker had provided for the occa sion, and, after many fears for its safety .and much fussing, conveyed to uncle William s lodgings, preparatory to being sent on ship board. Uncle William was not a bad man, nor a hard-hearted man, but he was a common place matter of fact man of business, and of tho world. He was never known to do ; wilfully unkind action ; but he never attempt ed to put himself out of the way to do a kind one. He was a blunt man ; that is, a man who loved contradiction for its own dear sake : who said and did rude things, to show his own superior wit and sagacity, without reflecting what tho effect might bo which such conduct generally produces upon others, ulunt people are always great egotists, and not always sincere. 1 licir aim is to appear clever at the expense ot their neighbors ; and the wanton disregard which they show lor wounding their feelings, betrays the scl fishness and insensibility of their own. Well, Anne,' said Mr. William Harden regarding the huge package which contained the poor widow's worldly treasures, with no very triendly eye, ' that s what I call a use less package. You had better have sold i at the auction, and laid the money out in necessary articles fdr yourself and the lads than encumbered us with it on the voyage But silly women arc hard to be persuaded I am very sure that it will be smashed to pie ces in the hold ol the ship. ' Not a bit of it, uncle,' said his namesake, William. ' It is well packed, 1 assure you.' "W.cll, we shall see,' said Mr. Harden, ' who is the truo prophet,' and secretly in his heart be wished it might be broken, that his words might prove true ; not that he really wished any ill to befall his poor widowed sis ter, but because he had said that it would bo ' We shall obtain, through your uncle's in terest with tho governor's private secretary, a grant of land,' said tho widow; 'and the money that the sale of the carpet and the mirror will procure will stock it with sheep and cattle: and with industry and prudence, my dear boys, wc shall soon bo as well offas our neighbors.' ' That you will, sister,' said Janet Har en, the meekest and most amiable of old maids, who bore the reproach of celibacy with the best grace imaginable ; who, when tormented by one of uncle William's chil dren, to tell him what an old maid was for papa said that she, aunt Janet, was an old maid answered the child, with a benevolent smile, instead of resenting the implied insult from her blunt brother ' A wise woman, child.' Aunt Janet, or Jessy, as the children cal led her, had kindly consented to accompany her brother William in his emigration; gen erously giving up a school, from the pro ceeds of which she obtained a comfortable iving, to assist them in their first settlement. and superintend the education of their fami ly. ' You have no cause for despondency,' continued this truly devoted woman. I he boys are healthy and strong ; and even if you should be disappointed in the sale of these things, it they consent to work out for a few years, they will soon earn for you flocks and herds, ' Now, Jessy, don't go to break my heart, by talking ot their working out as servants Could you bear to see your own brother John's children brought so low? Is there one of William's sons to compare with them? ' ' 1 hate comparisons among friends, re turned Janet, without noticing her sister-in law s splenetic speech. ' 1 lie children arc all equally dear to me ; and if God has given to some fairer faces and better talents than the rest, prav whose fault is that? Not the bairns ; and to find fault with the all-wise Disposer would be'to commit sin. As to work to employ the hands in an honest en deavor to provide for the wants of a family, is no disgrace, but a virtue. If Providence has placed the means of living at case be yond our reach, it is our duty to work, in or der that we may not be a burden to others. Uesides, sister Anne, to work faithfully for another, teaches us to work profitably for ourselves, ' It is very well for you to preach, Jessy, who are so much better off yourself ; but were you in my situation, the case would be different,' murmured tho widow, who had not yet learned to cast her burthen upon the Lord. ' Do you suppose, sister, that because I have two or three hundred pounds of my own, that I mean to be idle ?' said Janet. To tell you the truth, I have already forestalled the larger portion of this sum in paying the poor Gilford's passage out. And as it may be years before they aro able to repay nio. if I ever, 1 must work hard to make it up.' ' 1 always knew that your sister Margaret was your favorite,' said the widow. ' For ni part, I never could ask favors of any one, although I have conferred many in my time.' And here she wiped away the tear, which, naturally enough, obtruded itself upon her cheek, as vain recollections of her former af fluence crowded upon her mind. 'My dear Anne, I could not help you both at the same time,' said the kind old maid. ' Margaret has a sick husband, and four small children. Tho change of climate was recommended for his health, and I was only too happy to contribute my mite to ef fect this important object ; for Gilford, you know, is an excellent man, and his valuable life of the utmost consequence to us all. It is little I want for myself; and if I live a I I I VI Villi . coupio oi years longer, i nope i snail tie utile to assist my dear nephews, Robert and Wil liam, to settle in life ' It the mirror sells for what it ought to fetch,' said Mrs. Harden, proudly, ' wc shall not require any assistance.' ' Confound that useless piece of trumpery!' cried Mr. William Harden, who hud been listening unobserved to tho conversation of the ladies: ' 1 am sick of hearing about it so and his sagacity and powers of forethought were involved in the imminent ot tho pro The mirror was safely got on board, and the emigrants, after brewing their last sighs and prayers for tho dear land they were leav ing, tound themselves one morning steering their course across the wide Atlantic, under full sail, and driven onward by a spanking breeze. CHAPTER THIRD. WHAT BEFEL THE MIRROR AND ITS OWNERS. For the first three weoks of their voyago, tho whole party felt too much indisposed, from the effects of their trip to soa, to indulge in speculations for thn future. The present was sufficiently burdensome, without antici pating remoto contingencies ; and often, amidst tho paroxysms of that most painful, but least compassioncd of all aquatic ills, sea sickness, they wished themselves at the bot tom of the ocean, as the only means of ter minating their suflerings. But, as this would not have been considered a legal method of curing the evil of which they bitterly com plained, they were told by tho initiated to take patience, in the shape of plenty of bran dy and water, and to eat as much as they could, and tho disorder would soon euro itself. The temperance pledge was not then in fash ion, for the events ol our talo really occurred in the year of our Lord 1817, and the im provement in morals and manners has greatly progressed since that remote period, or the suffocating smell of this universal panacea would have overcome the widow's scruples, and made her a teetotaller for life. But sea sickness, like all other miseries, has an end ; and Mrs. Harden and her sons, no sooner found themselves able tolook upon the waves, without changing color, than they began to speculate upon tho tulure. for the night, the first painful symptoms o that deep heart-ache, which has been so pa (helically designated home-sickness, was ex perienced alike in tho rudest and most sen sitive bosnm. ' Ah, this is not like our ain land ! ' sighed one. 1 This will never be Scotland to me I' said another. ' I've a sair heart the night, sir.' said a third, but there's no help for it now. We must make the best o' a bad bargain.' And thus the poor emigrants complained and consoled each other for their mutual sor row. Nono felt that deep depression of heart and spirit more keenly than Mrs. Har- Jen; none looked forward with more eager mpo into the veiled future than her portion ess sons. Several days were employed in getting the luggage on shore. To several persons who had called upon tho strangers on their first arrival, Mrs. Harden had mentioned the mir ror and carpet ; and one wealthy Dutch mer chant was desirous of becoming a purchasei of both articles. Mrs. Harden was delighted with her success. Nothing could equal her impatience for the arrival from ship board of this, to her a valuable portion of the cargo. Mr. W. Harden alternately ioktd and sneer ed at his poor sister-in-law, assuring her that it wouiu come time enough to make or mar her fortune. At last it did arrive ; and, with eager haste, she and her sons and Jessy com menced to unpack it. uo be careful, bovs. Wi ham. don't shake the box so roughly. Jessy, give me leave 1 understand these things much bet ter than you,' wero expressions which burst continually from Mrs. Harden's lips. ' The salt water has penetrated the case, mamma,' said William, lifting from it a mass of wet tow. 'I hope it has not spoiled the mirror. ' ' Nonsense, child ! it could nevor soak through that immense carpet.' ' Indeed it has, mamma ! The carpet is wet through !' The boy paused looked at his mother and turned very pale. Then holding up a piece of broken glass, he said : ' Ah, aunt Jessy I look at this 1' The widow gavo a faint cry, and sunk back on her chair. The mirror was broken into a thousand pieces. ' 1 was afraid of that storm,' sighed Rob ert. ' Here ends the hopes of a family 1 said Mrs. Harden. ' Well, Anne, who was right?' said Mr. Harden. ' I told you it would be so. You had better have sold it. But, like all obsti nate women, you would not listen to reason.' It s ot no use reproaching mo now.' said poor Mrs. Harden. The carpet is spoiled the mirror is broken and we are beggars I' ' N'fit sr hurt :ic Hint mntl.n. ...M Iu . . -" - ..., ...v.livi, 9IIIU11UUCK, Come, William, help me te pack un these pieces of glass j they may may turn to some account.' ' You may throw them away,' said Mrs. Harden. ' I can pack them in a small box, with some of tins tow,' returned Robert. 'Who knows what they rrAoiirn to yet ?' ' Why, Bob, yofflfias bad as your mo ther,4 said his undo ; ' a greater simpleton, still. Her hopes were founded upon glass ; yours aro built upon fragments of the same brittle ware, already washed by the waves.' ' You mako light of our misfortune, sir,' said Robert gravely. 'My poor mother feels it severely. In pity to her say no more up on the subject ; and leavo me to do as I think best with tho wreck of our little property. Such is my trust in God, that I believe that He is able to turn these broken fragments, that you despise, to a good account.' ' You are a good boy, Robert, though ra ther credulous, and 1 hare no doubt that you will soon bo ablo to support your mother by your own industry. But as to the broken glass bout, lad ! the very idea of the thing provokes mirth.' Robert did not listen to his unclo's last speech ; he was busily employed in collect ing and packing into a small comnass thn pieces of tho splendid mirror, many of which You had belter not reckon too much upon ( ho knew would cut into small dressing-glas-the sale of it. You know what I have told ses, which, if fitted into neat franies,might you on that head before.' vll (or something. The carpet he rinsed you on that head before.' vll lur something. The carpet he rinsed ' I know you delight to vex me,' said Uip(weM in iresh water, and, with his brother's widow, ' and say these ill-natured things on assistance, hung out to dry. This latter ar purpose to wound my feelings ; but, in spite i tii ht was very much cut with the sharp ends in mo uroKen glass, and the colors wero all run into each other. It was perfectly un saleable.' ' My poor mother !' said Robert, ' wo should never rockon too much upon any thing. Such is the end of most of our earth ly hopes.' of your ugly prophesies, 1 feel assured that tho mirror will make our fortunes.' ' You forget tho old carpet ?' said Mr. Harden, with a provoking laugh, Is that to perform no part in this important object ? But wo shall sec ' ' Yes, we shall see,' responded tho widow. ' Why should not 1 bo as good a prophet as you ?' ' 1 havo probability on my side.' The most probable events are not those which most frequently como to pass,' said tho widow, ' or most of tho schemes of human forethought would bo successful, while wc constantly seo them overthrown by circum stances, which no prudenco could have fore seen. A few months ago, what would havo appeared more improbable than my present situation? Who could havo imagined that 1 should be forced to leavo my comfortable home, houseless and penniless, to wander over tho great deep, with my orphan boys in search of bread ?' And here Airs. Harden burst into tears, and her relatives felt griev ed that they had said anything to wound her feelings. Even the rude William Harden look her hand, and promised that she should never want a homo while he had ono to of fer her. A succession of violent storms put an end to family disputes. For many days the ves sel was in imminent danger of sinking, and all minor considerations were forgotten, in tho all-absorbing thoughts of self-preserva tion. At length it pleased the Almighty Mover of the elements to calm the winds and waves, and bring the poor wanderers in safe ty to tho desirod haven. On their first land ing, all was bustle and excitement. With oxaggorated feelings of ploasuro, they trod, for the first lime, the promised land. Its skies appeared clearer, its suns brighter, its mountains more lofty, and its scenery more magnificent than aucht they had ever wit nessed. But these feelings gradually subsi ded, and, before ,they had socurcd lodgings CHAPTER FOURTH. IN CONCLUSION WHAT UECtME OF THE nnoKEN Minnon. After somo necessary delay at Capo Town, the emigrants obtained a grant of land for their general location, on the fron tier ; and Mr. W. Harden engaged the services of his nephews, for tho two ensu ing years, promising, by way of remunera tion, to provido for their wants and thoso of thoir widowed parent. This arrangement proved highly satisfactory to all parties; and, full of hope and happy anticipations of success, the emigrants commenced their long journey to tho Irontier. Tho sublime and romantic scenery, through which they had to travel for many hundred miles, in a great meastiro atoned for the length of the journey. Tho young peopio found objects to excite their interest and admiration at every step, and the spirits of the elder part of the com munity rose in proportion. A beautiful fertile valley, bctwecnMwo lofty mountain ranges, had been granted for their location. A fine clear stream of water travelled the whole length of the glen, its devious windings marked by tho fringe of Babylonian willows that shaded its rocky banks. A more delightful spot could scarcely havo been chosen hy tho most enthusiastic lover of nature, than chance had thus provided for them. The valley contained several thousand acres of excel lent land, which was surveyed and equally divided among the males of the party. Tho lots which fell to the young Harderns' Concluded on fourth Psc.) 0