"She rises generally about seven o'clock, provided the children, who all sleep in her room, have permitted her to repose till so late an hour. Her toilet does not take long; a black petticoat being the only addition she makes to the cap and brown cotton wrapping-gown in which she sleeps. In this equipage, with one child in her arms, and half a dozen following her, she goes down to breakfast; which repast is often taken in the kitchen and lasts but a few moments, amidst cries and quarrelings for slices of bread and butter, and mugs of coffee. "This trouble over, the lady commences the toilet of her little family; an operation which she always performs carefully and neatly, and the children are despatched to school. "A general review of the mansion follows; and woe to the servants if any candle ends of the preceding night have been burned too low-if a single grain of dust be visible on the furniture, or a cup broken: for crimes of this cast ever become the subjects of most vehement reproach. "At length the bell rings for mass; a morning dress, not peculiar for its elegance, succeeds to the first costume: a black cloak and hood is thrown over it; and, with a basket on her arm, she repairs to the church, and from thence to make bargains and execute her commissions. "This period, the happiest of the day, is prolonged till dinner. In the course of her peregrination she meets her acquaintance, and the most innocent little gossipings take place. It is now that she learns how much Mrs. Such-ano-ne gave beyond what she ought for a turbot; and, consequently, how very bad a manager she must be: while on the other hand, Mrs. Some-body is so stingy that she stands half an hour higgling about green peas;-Mrs. A. has given her maid warning; Mrs. B. has a sick baby; and the Curé has made a visit at least half an hour long to Miss C. "And now the clock strikes twelve, and dinner leads everybody home. The children are returned from school; the tumult and the din begin again; aud the young ones contrive to render the dinner as miserable as the breakfast. This dinner, however, is eaten in a handsome room, ornamented with mirrors, carpets, and so forth, but none of the thousand and one little prettinesses which constitute elegance and comfort. Everything is handsome and correct; and everything is heavy and gloomy. Its tenants know the wants of animal life, but little more: the dinner is good and abundant, but the conversation-nought. "The meal ended the dessert distributed among the children, peace is once more restored by their dismissal to school. "The lady then places herself at her window with her work, which she continues without interruption till she goes to vespers; after which she gives the children their supper and puts them to bed; then undresses herself, puts her hair into papillotes, says her prayers, and, while waiting the return of her spouse, amuses herself by chatting a little with the servants in the kitchen. A well-behaved husband is never later than nine as soon as he appears, a substantial supper is served, and at ten the the whole house is in a state of profound repose. : "This life, with very few exceptions, is that of all the ladies of———. "If their minds do not greatly improve by it, their plumpness and fresh complexions prove at least that it agrees well with their constitutions. What can they wish for more? Of what use would mind be to them? A Fleming marries in order to have a housekeeper who will not cheat him-his dinner punctually served— his children kept clean and his stockings mended. He asks for nothing more, and is perfectly contented with this. They are happy. What more can be desired ?--nothing excepting, perhaps, the not being obliged to witness a happiness so insupportable." Mrs. Trollope's Belgium, WOMAN'S LOVE. When Man is waxing frail, And bis hand is thin and weak, She sitteth by his chair, His wants to understand; Of the honey bees, are still, To feast on breath and bloom Into his darkened room; P Until the hour when death His lamp of life doth dim, She never leaveth him; And when his trial's o'er, And the turf is on his breast, Lie sorrows unexprest; And though there may arise This was a pleasant expectation, and Birtha eagerly prepared to fulfil it. By the time that Birtha was beginning to believe that William was on his voyage home, her neighbours would often help her to count the days which would probably elapse before the ship could arrive; but, when they were not in her presence, some of the experienced amongst the men used to express a hope the result of fear, that William would return time enough to avoid certain winds which made one part of the navigation on that coast particalarly dangerous. Birtha herself had, no doubt, her fears, as well as her hopes; but there are some fears which the lip of affection dares not utter, and this was one of them, She dreaded to have her inquiries respecting that dangerous passage answered by Yes, we know that it is a difficult naviFrom "A Birth-day Gift." gation;" she also dreaded to be told, by some kind but ill-judging friends, to "trust in Providence;" as, by such advice, the reality of the danger would be still more powerfully confirmed to her. This recommendation would to her have been needless, as well as alarming; for she had, doubtless, always relied on Him who is alone able to save, and she knew that the same “Almighty arm was underneath" her lover still, which had hitherto preserved him in the time of need. May sometimes smile again, THE LAST VOYAGE. BY MRS. OPIE. (From "The Amulet.") We cannot fail to observe, as we advance in life, how vividly our earliest recollections recur to us, and this conciousness is accompanied by a melancholy pleasure, when we are deprived of those who are most tenderly associated with such remembrances, because they bring the beloved dead before the "mind's eye," and beguile the loneliness of the present hour by visions of the past. In such visions I now often wish to indulge; and, in one of them, a journey to Y-- was recently brought before me, in which my ever-indulgent father permitted me to accompany him, when I was yet a child. As we drove through a neighbouring village, he directed my attention to a remarkable rising, or conical mount, on the top of the church tower. He then kindly explained the cause of this singular and distinguishing appearance, and told me the traditional anecdote connected with it; which now, in my own words, I am going to communicate to my readers. It is generally supposed, that great grief makes the heart so selfishly absorbed in its own sufferings, as to render it regardless of the sufferings of others; but the conduct of her, who is the heroine of the following tale, will prove to this general rule an honourable exception. I know nothing of her birth and parentage, nor am I acquainted even with her name; but I shall call her Birtha. The story goes, that she lived at a village in Norfolk, and was betrothed to the mate of a trading vessel, with the expectation of marrying him when he had gained money sufficient, by repeated voyages, to make their union consistent with prudence. In the mean while, there is reason to believe that Birtha was not idle, but contrived to earn money herself, in order to expedite the hour of her marriage; and, at length, her lover (whom I shall call William) thought that there was no reason for him to continue his seafaring life, but that, at the end of one voyage more, he should be able to marry the woman of his choice, and engage in some less dangerous employment, in his native village. Accordingly, the next time that he bade farewell to Birtha, the sorrow of their parting hour was soothed by William's declaring, that, as the next voyage would be his last, he should expect, on his return, to find every thing ready for their marriage. Well-time went on, and we will imagine the little garden before the door of the house which Birtha had hired, new-gravelled, fresh flowers sown and planted there; the curtains ready to be put up; the shelves bright with polished utensils; table linen, white as the driven snow, enclosed in the newly-purchased chest of drawers; and the neat well-chosen wedding clothesready for the approaching occasion; we will also picture to ourselves the trembling joy of Birtha, when her eager and sympathising neighbours rushed into her cottage, disturbing her early breakfast, with the glad tidings, that William's ship had been seen approaching the dangerous passage with a fair wind, and that there was no doubt of his going through it safe, and in daylight! How sweet it is to be the messenger and bearer of good news, but it is still sweeter to know that one has friends who have pleasure in communicating plea sure to us. Birtha's joy, however, was still mingled with anxiety, and she probably passed that day in alternate restlessness and prayer. Towards night the wind rose high, blowing from a quarter unfavourable to the safety of the ship, and it continued to blow in this direction when night and darkness closed on all around. Darkness at that moment seemed to close upon the prospects of Birtha; for she knew that there was no beacon, no landmark to warn the vessel of its danger, and inform the pilot what coast they were approaching, and what perils they were to avoid; and it is probable that the almost despairing girl was, with her anxious friends, that livelong night a restless wanderer on the nearest shore. With the return of morning came the awful confirmation of their worst fears. There was no remaining vestige of William's vessel, save the top of the mast, which showed where it had sunk beneath the waves, and proved that the hearts which in the morning had throbbed high with tender hopes and joyful expectations, were then cold "beneath the mighty waters! How different now was the scene in Birtha's cottage, from that which it exhibited on the preceding morning. That changed dwelling was not, indeed, deserted, for sympathising neighbours came to it as before; but, though many may be admitted with readiness when it is a time for congratulation, only the few can be wel come in a season of sorrow; and Birtha's sorrow, though quiet was deep-while neither her nearest relative, nor dearest friend, could do anything to assist her, except by removing from her sight the new furniture, or the new dresses, which had been prepared for those happy hours 'that now could never be her's. At length, however, Birtha, who had always appeared calm and resigned, seemed cheerful also still she remained pale, as in the first moments of her trial, save when a feverish flush occasionally increased the brightness of her eyes; but she became thinner and thinner, and her impeded breath made her affectionate friends suspect that she was going into a rapid decline. Medical aid was immediately called in, and her own conviction that her end was near, was soon confirmed to her at her own request. It is afflicting to see an invalid rejoice in knowing that the hour of death is certainly approaching, because it proves the depth and poignancy of the previous sufferings; but then the sight is comforting and edifying also. It is comforting because it proves that the dying person is supported by the only "help that faileth not; " and it is edifying, because it invites those who behold it to endeavour to believe that they also may live and die like the departing Christian. But it was not alone the wish" to die and be with Christ," nor the sweet expectation of being united in another world to him whom she had lost, that was the cause of Birtha's increasing cheerfulness, as the hour of her dissolution drew nigh. No! Her generous heart was rejoicing in a project which she had conceived, and which would, if realized, be the source of benefit to numbers yet unborn. She knew, from authority which she could not doubt, that had there been a proper landmark on the shore, her lover and his ship would not, in all human probability, have perished. "Then," said Birtha, "henceforth there shall be a land-mark on this coast, and I will furnish it. Here, at least, no fond and faithful girl shall again have to lament over her blighted prospects, and pine and suffer as I have done."-She sent immediately for the clergyman of the parish, made her will, and had a clause inserted to the following effect. "I desire that I may be buried on the top of the tower of C-r church, and that my grave may be made very high and pointed, in order to render it a perpetual land-mark to all ships approaching that dangerous navigation where he whom 1 loved was wrecked. I am assured, that had there been a land-mark on the tower of the church, his ship might have escaped: and I humbly trust, that my grave will always be kept up, according to my will, to prevent affectionate hearts, in future, from being afflicted as mine has been; and I leave a portion of my little property in the hands of trustees, for ever, to pay for the preservation of the above-mentioned grave, in all its usefulness!" Before she died, the judicious and benevolent sufferer had the satisfaction of being assured that her intentions would be carried into effect. Her last moments were therefore cheered by the belief, that she would be graciously permitted to be, even after death, a benefit to others, and that her grave might be the means of preserving some of her fellow creatures from shipwreck and affliction. Nor was her belief a delusive one. The conical grave in question gives so remarkable an appearance to the tower of C-r church, when it is seen at sea, even at a distance, that if once observed it can never be forgotten, even by those to whom the anecdote connected with it is unknowntherefore, as soon as it appears in sight, pilots know that they are approaching a dangerous coast, and take measures to avoid its perils. But, if the navigation on that coast is no longer as perilous as it was when the heroine of this story was buried, and the tower of C――r church is no longer a necessary land-mark, still her grave remains a pleasing memorial of one, whose active benevolence rose superior to the selfishness both of sorrow and of sickness, and enabled her, even on the bed of death, to contrive and will for the benefit of posterity. THE LOVERS LAST MEETING. 'We met-yet did not speak, Our words were one deep-lengthen'd sigh, Like hearts which inly break Give, ere they burst their chords, and die! 'Music was breathing round, And splendour shed its dazzling light; We did not hear a sound, Nor see what gleam'd upon our sight. 'The sculptur'd marble form Had more of life than we possess'd, Save that there was a storm Of passions, warring in each breast! 'He grasp'd my hand, 'twas chill, And his was pale, and deadly cold; I felt its pressure thrill Like thoughts whose pow'er can ne'er be told. "Thoughts passionate, intense, Yet full of woe, despair, and doom, Which cheat the poet's sense, And carve for him an early tomb. 'We lov'd as few have lov'd; All feelings in our breast that grew, All hopes and fears that mov'd Each other's soul-each other knew. 'And yet we madly deem'd It was but friendship's tranquil ray, Which in our bosoms beam'd, And flung its radiance o'er our way. But we were told to part; The hour which brought the dark decree Tore from each trusting beart The veil of calm security. To part! that fatal word Hath echoes mournful as the knell, When first its peal is heard, For one we worshipp'd long-and well. To part! the word is drear, As sounds the gasping cry of life, Upon the startled ear, From out the waters 'whelming strife, 'We parted—and we bore Abroad a brow of smiles and glee, Though our hearts' inmost core Was Cankering with misery. There is a very ancient and favourite tradition in Germany, called, Der Herentanz auf dem Brocken, or “The Witch-dance on the Brocken, " which is said to have had its origin in the following circumstances :Charlemagne had found all his pious endeavours to Convert the Saxons ineffectual. The heathens retired before his arms into their woods and fortresses, and, as soon as they found themselves beyond his reach, resumed their horrid rites and devil-worship. To put a stop to these impieties, the Christian emperor stationed guards at the passes of the mountains, when the season of the heathen festivals approached; but the Saxons eluded his soldiers by a very ingenious contrivance. They arrayed themselves in the skins and horns of beasts, and wielding fire-brands and rude clubs, presented themselves in this terrific guise to the guards, who, conceiving them to be so many demons, took to flight, and spread abroad a variety of appaling stories of the spirits which haunted the Brocken, and other inaccessible spots. The Marchen runs as follows: Among the Harz mountains, there is an exceedingly lofty one, which rears its head far above the rest, and overlooks all the country fifteen miles round. It is called the Brocken; but when we talk of the incantations and demon rites which were performed here in heathen times, and are said to be still practised by those wretches who have sold themselves to the Devil, we call it the Blocksberg. Upon its cold and barren summit, which glitters all over with a thousand millions of rock-crystals, the Devil holds an annual festival, on the night between the last day of April and the first of May, well known by the name of Walpurgi's night, to which all the witches and magicians on earth are invited. As soon as midnight has tolled, the guests begin to arrive from all quarters, upon brooms, and pitchforks, and giants' bones, and other strange steeds; and the great Devil himself brings along with him not a few to the entertainment. When all are met, an immense bonfire is lighted up, and a wild dance commences; after which, the Devil mounts the Devil's pulpit, and delivers a blasphemous harangue, at the conclusion of which a supper, consisting wholly of sausages, is served up upon the witches'-altar. At the first blush of morning the whole assembly disperses. The peasants dwelling in the neighbourhood of the Brocken, on the approach of Walpurgi's night, draw the sign of THE genial warmth of Summer now fills the garden and the meadow with flowers of a thousand hues: the trees are vocal with the feathered songsters of nature, and the Parterre alive with the fluttering of the spangled butterfly and the glittering beetle; but the seducing warmth of the season brings forth still greater embellishments of our promenades-those who are gallantly said to be the loveliest productions of nature, who, casting aside the shrouding cloak and the envious veil, give to the rendezvous of fashion attractions a thousand times more enchanting than the song of the birds, the variegated offspring of the earth, or the gaudy flies that steal the nectar of the flowers. Promenaders here seem to float by us in dresses as light as the film of the gossamer, and robed in muslin and organdi, are so exquisite in form and so etherial in costume that, as it has been poetically remarked, they seem denizens of the Eternal City who have mistaken this earth, in the fragrance of the flowers, the balmy softness of the air, and the seeming happiness of all around, for their own regions of joy. The hair is not usually glittering with the jewels of the earth, or the gorgeous embellishments of gold and tissue with which less elegantly designed head-dresses are constructed; a light feather is placed in the coiffure, which bending gracefully over the head, yields lightly to the Summer breeze, and waves with every motion. The "toute ensemble" is peculiarly captivating, and gives an etherial lightness to the figure hardly to be imagined. But while we yield the palm to the muslin-clothed beauties of the promenade we must give due praise to costumes which, though less simple in their design, are beautiful in their fabric, and well chosen in their deco ration. A large portion of our fair countrywomen brave the encroachments of the zephyr in the more splendid dresses of the ball room, and the galleries of the dance, at the Thuilleries, never shone more effulgently in splendidly attired visitants, than the promenades of Paris, and the gardens of St. Cloud, Tivoli, and a hundred other places of elegant resort during the delightful Summer evenings we now enjoy. Ours is truly the capital, par excellence, for out of door amusements, and perhaps not another European metropolis can boast of so many, or such delightful promenades. To this may in a great measure be attributed the fact that we are not so completely innundated and isolated at certain seasons of the year as you are; our rotation of gaities it is which charms and delight all foreigners who pay us a fleeting visit. From these varied attractions of pleasure grounds, the theatres find it no easy task to attract company, no pains have been spared by them in giving every variety of amusement. Pieces for the first time acted are in great requisition; thus affording much scope to living talent; and the vaudevilles are extended to an awful period,-seven, eight, or even nine acts, the managers being resolved that there shall be no cause for grumbling with regard to quantity any more than quality. Day balls are considerably in vogue, they have as yet hardly got beyond the faubourgs St. Germain and St. Honoré. In becoming very popular things have, as in your aristocratic part of the world, very frequently lost their value in the eyes of our exclusive elegantes. Organdi dresses embroidered on English worsted, natural flowers in the coiffure, are in general estimation on these occasions. By those who do not dance, tulle turbans, without bird of paradise feathers, and frequently hats are worn. Blonde hats are considerably diminishing. Day balls have been followed by night fêtes, and the gardens of Tivoli have been resplendent in beauty and fashion, the amusements being carried on throughout the night. The brilliance of the gardens could scarcely be eclipsed by broad daylight, the charming novelty of the scene, combined with its peculiar attraction, have rendered its frequent renewal almost certain, during the continuance of this oppressive weather; indeed any time during the four-and-twenty hours is pleasanter than that which is under the influence of a powerful sun. C. de A. LONDON AND PARISIAN FASHIONS. FROM A VARIETY OF THE MOST AUTHENTIC SOURCES INCLUDING COPIOUS EXTRACTS FROM "Le Petit Courrier des Dames"—"Journal de Paris et des Modes, L'Observateur des Modes et L'Indiscret"-" Le Follet Courrier des Salons"-" Le Mercure des Salons," &c. &c. DRESSES.-Amplitude and length is still the reigning order with dresses at the commencement of the season. Pelerines are much worn attached to the corsages, some in a light fabric, others of the same material as the dress. We observed a muslin redingote with three folds round the hem, each about an inch deep, had a little lace border. Two pelerines bordered in the same way had six rows of lace. Sleeves a la folle; underneath the skirt a Scotch batiste petticoat, richly embroidered before, ceinture fand cravatte of the same, the hat ornamented with Scotch ribbon. An India muslin dress was embroidered au plumetis in the following manner :-Two rows of bouquets were placed on each side the skirt, en tablier, and increasing gradually towards the bottom; bouquets were placed en chevrons on very large sleeves, and a double pelerine, the underneath one surrounded with bouquets, and the other covered entirely with them, diminishing towards the neck. The following is a pretty toilet:-A redingote of mousseline de soie, neutral tint, embroidered silk of the same tint, after gothic designs; jupon white moire, chemisette point d' Angleterre: capote green pou de soie, ornamented with green and white ribhons, half veil en point, bottines gros de Naples, same colour. The inner sleeves of eider-down are worn of dimensions not quite so great as they have been. It is especially about the shoulders that there is less amplitude. For negligée toilettes, printed Scotch batistes have usurped the place of the jaconas. A black ground is generally preferred. For the metropolis the sleeves themselves are large and without gigots. They are frequently supported by silk under sleeves. BALL DRESSES.---Round an organdi dress, open as a redingote in front, was a ruche of rose-coloured gauze ribbon, placed above the hem and winding round the folds of the corsage, the corsage plain and décolleté. The petticoat in white gros de Naples; sleeves short; the ceinture tied. Little rose-coloured nœuds sprinkled amongst the tufts of hair and falling low on the face, completed this toilet. Fabrics of a single neutral tint, grey or London smoke for instance, we have seen embroidered in very strong colours, such as blue, cherry colour, &c; these may be considered as more particularly applicable to fancy ball dresses, but some of them look uncommonly well as ball toilets; a redingote of Scotch batiste, the hem and the extremity of the pelerines of which had a pale blue embroidered border with a ceinture and scarf of the same, had a very becoming effect. HATS, CAPS, &c.---Hats are worn with the fronts wide and the sides descending low on each side of the face, and the crown elevated. For the most part, rice straw hats are lined with materials of the same colour; a very pretty variety however came under our notice in a delicate green crape lining, the ribbons of white taffeta streaked with green, and a bouquet of mignionette at the side. Some rice straw hats are ornamented with ribbons of a white ground, and painted or embroidered in flowers of every variety of shade. The richness of these renders unnecessary every other kind of ornament. For the country the whalebone capotes, in various fabrics, as pou de soie, gros de Naples, embroidered muslin, organdi, tulle, &c. bear the sway. Though the Italian straw is still in high consideration and very convenient for pretty negligées; they are frequently trimmed with a taffeta ribbon, and a half veil is sometimes sewn to the border. A somewhat remarkable, but withal pretty bonnet |