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fortes. The song was of a tender and regretful cast, , -it is that which gives the immaterial spirit to actual and it was given as if the singer understood and felt it vision-which enables us to see the soul. Hence, in all -no more. I stood motionless; my ears were drinking our recollections of one we have loved, it is the look in the sweetest and most touching sounds I had ever which is ever the most present for that places her be. heard, and I scarcely allowed myself to breathe, lest I fore us, body and mind at once. Yes, I can see her might impede the slightest note reaching me. My de now-her tall and rounded form, possessed beyond all light in music had always been something passionate others of that grace of motion which adds such charm not scientific, elaborate, complex music, which means to accuracy of shape, where it exists and almost supnothing, and feels nothing, and makes nothing under- / plies its place to us, where it does not ; her face, of stood and felt-but music such as this, where poetry and more than earthly loveliness, with its bright clustering sound join their sweetest and strongest powers, to en hair, and its clear, pale, pearl-like complexion-varied chant the senses, and enthrall the soul.
on occasions with a flush of rich blood, of a tint like I was so engrossed while the song lasted, that I never that presented by the interstices of the fingers when thought of the singer. I was standing in a corner of held against the sun; and, above all, the deep and mathe room, where I had been talking to my friend, shut gical effect of her general image ; all, all are now before in, as it were, by a pillar; so that, from the crowd of me in that full, lavish, luxuriance of beauty, which was persons collected before me, I could see no more than her's when my eyes rested upon her for the first time. the top of the harp. But of this I was scarcely aware, She was sitting, as I have said, by the side of the until the music had ceased, and a long deep-drawn re- harp: which gave, as it were, token and remembrance spiration had relieved me from pleasure which had of the exquisite sounds she had drawn from it, and of almost become oppressive. Then, I began to desire to those she had superadded, She had all the advantages see her from whose lips such sounds could flow, and I of dress : the perfect and exquisite whiteness of her skin strove to extricate myself from the crowd. I was some was given to view—her full and rounded arm was un. little time accomplishing this—but when I did, I came covered—and her bright beautiful hair was fastened at once in full sight of a creature, of a beauty, such as with a knot of diamonds. I thought then she never iny eyes had never rested upon before. She was seated could be so lovely, as when full dressed; I afterwards by the side of the harp, receiving the praises which thought that in simple unadornment she was more lovely were naturally being dealt forth most lavishly. Her still. But I found the reality to be-(and in a truly cheek was a little fushed, and her eye glistened in a beautiful woman it always is so that the dress in manner which shewed that she was touched by the in which she is in before our eyes, is that in which we toxication of success, and of the consciousness of the I think she looks the best. At night the brilliancy of keen admiration which she excited. But the expression dress appears to us most suited to her beauty ; in the of a glance which she now and then cast on those morning, we become converts to the plain white gown, around her, and a sort of shade which, at intervals, and that indescribable loveliness of complexion, which passed over the brightness of her countenance, sufficed a perfect, but a still healthy, paleness, possesses by to show, that though she could not but enjoy the ho. day-light; and, when night returns again, she again mage paid her, yet she fully knew how hollow and seems to eclipse her simple self, and we revert to our worthless it was. This was plain to me, as I gazed former creed. upon her face of heavenly beauty; and I was just then, as may be supposed, in no mood to judge severely. No The spot where we were seated is as present to me at
-I thought-I still think-those emotions of young this moment, as if it were before my actual vision. It and womanly vanity, far more than outweighed by the was by the side of a steep rocky path, which wound, in countervailing feelings I have described. Succés de zigzag lines, up the face of the mountain. Before us, soriété are, beyond all things, likely and able to make was a deep and narrow valley—so narrow, indeed, that giddy a youthful brain. I believe there are few who it might almost be called a ravine-which separated the would not have enjoyed the incense as she did-1 am fellow-mountain from that which we were on. In front sure there are few who at such a moment would have of this valley, a little to the right, was the sea— the felt its light value, and have sighed for something far magnificent eternal sea ; now spreading its boundless higher and better than this.
expanse of deep inky blue into the horizon, with an unHow beautiful I thought Eleanor then-how beauti ruffled surface, but a heavy, bulky, swell of the body of ful she really was!—and that, too, of a beauty exclu- | its waters. I do not know that there is any state in sively, even strangely individual. I have, during the which the ocean is so solemn and imposing as in this. course of my life, seen some women who were her equals In a perfect calm, it is dreary and monotonous ; in a -one or two who, strictly, perhaps, were her superiors, light breeze, it is dressed in smiles and brightness; in in beauty. But I never, either before or since, knew a storm, it is awful, fearful, terrible. But in the state any one, in the least degree, like her. Her eye, espe. I have described, we gaze on it with a deep and oppres. cially, was such as I never saw in any other person. It | sive sense of its majesty and vastness, which it inspires was a full, beautiful blue eye, but with all-with more at no other time. In calm it loses the one, in tempest than all-the fire and power of a dark one. I can see the other—for the rage of the elements always narrows it at this moment, beaming on me with the softness of the circle of our view. tender affection with the flashing of passionate love. The sun, too, was setting on it now. It was one of I can see it bright with the fearful brightness of agony | those evenings in which the sun goes down almost to -subdued in the melancholy mildness of sorrow. I the horizon, shrouded and hidden by dense clouds ; and can see it as if curdled and frozen in the coldness and then shines forth for a few moments with that deep and dimness of death! Oh, it is the human eye which be- lurid brightness, which it sheds at such times. The stows creating expression upon the human countenance! wide sea was tinged with a dark shadowy tint of red, like that which is produced by looking through ob- less and stiffened. A sort of waking stupor appeared scured glass at an eclipse. Its full having acquired a to come over her; I strove to rouse her, but in vain. sullen threatening aspect from this blood-coloured hue, “I shall be better presently," was her only answer, and and looked, if I may so say, like the face of a guilty she repeated it to all I said. The continued, unvaried, man, brooding over fierce and revengeful thoughts. and mechanical manner in which she repeated this sen
The valley was in perfect gloom, as well as the hill | tence, was more fearful than if she had been wholly behind us, and three-fourths of that opposite—but the speechless. I became alarmed to a maddening degree. summit of this last caught the only ray of gold which There she sat like a stone ; her eyes fixed-her colour the clouds permitted the sun to shed, and shone in fee gone-her frame rigid. “I shall be better presently," ble and melancholy lustre, as contrasted with the dark she repeated to every thing I said to her, and even when ness, or the gloomy light, which spread over all else. I did not speak. i was utterly, helplessly, at a loss.
We had walked slowly up the difficult path, and sat A fit, a swoon, hysterics, I should have known how to down here upon a fragment of a rock to gaze on this succour and relieve; but this unearthly statue-like susbeautiful and impressive scene. The seat placed us close pension of animation, with the single exception of that to each other ; our limbs touched, and I was forced to one-echoing phrase, made me nerveless and helpless as pass my arm round Eleanor, to support her on the rock. a child. There was no water on this rocky mountain, Is there any one who was ever thus placed, in such a and I feared to leave her to fetch it. She remained scene, at such a season, and does not treasure in his motionless. heart's memory the sensations of that hour : Even! At this moment there came singing down the path a when alone, mountains—the vast sea-a frowning sun- | little boy of, it might be, ten years old, in ragged set-occasion a full deep awfulness which weighs on clothes, and with bare feet, but skipping along at a the heart, and even on the physical breath. There is a merry pace, and carolling forth his ditty, with the gaiety tightening of the breast, and a leaden oppression of the and lightness of an innocent and happy heart. The nerves, which, nevertheless, cause a deep moral sensa | path brought him close to us ; but, after looking at us tion rather than bodily pain, The most thoughtless for a moment with some surprise, he proceeded on his pause in their thoughtlessness—the most wicked are way. As he passed, I saw, to my infinite relief and softened to repentance--the most callous, for that mo. jov, expression again begin to spread over Eleanor's ment, feel. Upon a heart warm and ardent-untouched, face, The tears rose in her eyes, and at last begun to
untainted, by crime—it is needless to say what flow freely. “I don't know why it is,” said she, “I the effect must be and is. But when we are with one was not thinking of that child and yet the sight of we love-whom we doat on with all the softness of the his poor naked little feet, tripping over the hard sharp tenderest feeling-whom we adore with all the fervour stones, brought tears to my eyes, as it were by inof burning passion ;-when we feel the vital warmth of stipct." And she wept on, and I rejoiced, for the tears her frame thrill through us ;—when her breath is min relieved her. gled with ours—and we gaze into her very soul, which I have often wondered at this since, I have thought beams in her eyes with inexpressible affection and aban it strange that this merely physical sight should prodonment-then, indeed, does the heart swell with sensa-l duce tears in one who was in such a death-like state, tions which have no words to paint them—but which | and who had so much cause and will to weep, but could need them the less—as those who have once felt them not. Neither could she ever account for it, more than require no description, and to none but those who huve in the few words which she had employed when it hapfelt them, could any description convey the feeblest | pened—“I saw his bare feet on the rough path, and I shadow of what they are.
cried.” We were thus placed :—my arm supported Eleanor Eleanor continued to weep, and I did not endeavour on the narrow seat-her eyes mingled with mine. We to check her tears. I feared to renew the unnatural did not speak. There are some moments, and this was and appalling state from which they had relieved her: one of them, when speech is wholly powerless. Nay, and I determined to say no more on the subject which more--when to speak would break, as it were, the en- | had caused it. To my surprise, however, she begun it thralling spell which is over us—would destroy at once herself. After the silence had lasted some time, she those air-built visions, which, as in the Eastern story, strove to dry up her tears, and, turning to me, said, in lap our silent spirits in Elysium. Yes! thus we felt a voice, firm indeed, but of a low, distinct, sustained inas if the earth, and sky, and sea, had vanished from our | tonation, which carried with it something unearthlyeyes, and there were only ourselves in the world; as if | “ If it will give you happiness, it-it-it shall be as we were but one being—as if we had but one soul ! you wish-but-I could not live after it ;' and so say.
But, alas ! there is no scene, however sublime—there ing, she sank upon my bosom, and began to weep unis no hour, however solemn-which can long suspend
restrainedly. the head-strong wilfulness of passion. I took advan Oh, God! what at that moment were to me all the tage of the softening and swelling of the heart, which gratifications of passion! How weak, how pitiful we then both felt, to return to my ceaselees topic—to seemed to me then, the motive which had actuated me urge my usual suit. But the heart of Eleanor was not all along !-how cruel and remorseless did it appear, to like mine : that which passed away lightly in me was desire to sacrifice her happiness to my own—no, not even by her far more strongly felt. The holy sensations of that-for happiness I knew it could not cause, even to that hour outweighed its dangers, and spiritualized and myself. Here was this lovely and gifted creaturemade pure even unlawful affections.
whom I loved with a love passing all human affection As I proceeded, though she continued to listen atten -throwing herself upon my feelings of mercy-yieldtively, she seemed to cease to hear; her eye became ing, but entreating to be spared. I do repeat, that at fixed and unmeaning, and ber whole form grew motion. | that moment all evil passion died within me. “No," I
said in my heart, “ I will not sacrifice this dear one at | hollow, which took from the power of its glance, and the shrine of selfish and impure indulgence. I will che gave to it a more saddened expression. She leaned rish her in my inmost heart, but it shall be with the heavily on my arm, but before we had got far she compurity of a brother's love-though still with all the plained of fatigue, and I supported her to a seat. We deep and overflowing tenderness of my own. I will watched together the sun decline, and finally sink below spare her-and, oh how blessed will the feeling be the line of the horizon : we saw the glowing and bril. hereafter, that I have done this good deed, when the liant colours, which he left in his descent, gradually temptation to a bad one was so fearfully strong—that I deepen in the sky, till all became shadow; while, on the have preferred her happiness to my own enjoyment other side, the beauties which the heavens wear by her innocence to my triumph !".
night, grew, first vaguely, and then by degrees, more I paused some moments while these thoughts were strongly visible. The stars began to glitter one by passing through my mind, and then said to Eleanor, one, and the firmament became more distinctly and “ No, it shall not be, I never will urge it again ; and, brightly blue. As the chill of the night came on, I as I spoke, I stooped my face to her's, and our lips met pressed Eleanor to go in, but she begged to stay to gaze, for the first time. They then met in guiltlessness and for the last time, on the loveliness of night. “I know," purity-yes, purily; for the kiss which a mother im she said, “I never shall come out again I am so feeprints upon her new-born infant's brow, is not more free ble, I scarcely could get these few steps-1 must ccase from unholy passion, than was that in which my lips to attempt it altogether. Let me, then, stay, that I were pressed to Eleanor's then.
may gaze on all that Nature has of soft, and solemn,
and enchanting—that the last time my eyes rest on it We were now married. My heart's wildest wish - | may be with you. The evening of my life has come, my imagination's most extravagant hope-were now the night is fast approaching-let me look on this emrealized. Our communion was now constant and per. blem of the fate which is so near me ; and, Oh! let me mitted ; our love was unreproved by man, and sanc hope, that after the agitations of the day, and the shationed by heaven. She was mine-mine before the face dows of the night-fall, I may wake to the pure, solemn, of the world, as well as on the altar of our own hearts beautiful serenity of a state like this!'-She bent her – mine by the ties of lawful observance, as well as by head upon my shoulder, and laid her cheek upon mine those of irrepressible affection. And were we happy? -it was hot even unto burning; and the wasted and - Alas! none who have been thus wedded will ask a | Aeshless fingers, which I held within my own, were question, the answer to which is so sadly certain. Hap dry and parched. But her spirit was unfevered by the piness can never be reached through guilt. What body's illness, and she prayed to heaven with me that would be happiness under other circumstances, ceases to night-for the last time in that most glorious and holiest be so in these. The means have destroyed the end. lf,
temple, Nature--with that calm resignation, that sosix months before, I had been asked what would make lemn and subdued, but yet assured hope, which are the me perfectly and transcendantly happy, I should have best passports to the blessed immortality for which they said without a pause--to be married to Eleanor. And | implore. now we were married—now she was my wife--and hap Why do I dwell on these scenes? Is it that I dread piness was farther from me than ever. It was then be approaching that of death itself? On that, indeed, I fore me--though beyond my reach ; I was now past it, cannot dwell.---Life ebbed away in gentle, imperceptiand it was irrecoverable.
ble, but sure gradations. Her mind had ceased to suffer
sometime before her death, on all points but one-her The last time we were ever out together, was on an
child. She had no cause for anxiety concerning it, as occasion of this kind;—when the sky and the earth regarded itself—but yet in the last days of her existseemned alike lighted up by the glories of the setting ence she longed to have with her that being to whom sun. We paused opposite to it at that time when its
she had given birth-whom she had loved more tenradiance sheds a brightness and lively aspect over all
derly, perhaps, if not so fervently-if not so passionwithin the horizon's compass. As the sun declines
ately, more purely, than any other upon earth. She lower, there is an air allied to sadness thrown over the would speak of her child more and more often as her landscape ; but it was before this that we stopped to
death drew near-the last word, indeed, which she disgaze upon its beauties and its splendour. It was a very tinctly pronounced, was her child's name ; but after little way from the house--for she was too feeble to articulation had ceased, her last look was given to me walk far. Alas! what a contrast she now was, to the her last sigh was breathed upon my lips. radiant being I have described. Her form was wasted
Gilbert Earle. to a fearful thinness-to a degree of attenuation, indeed, almost unnatural -yet it retained that graceful.
SONNET. ness of outline and of movement for which it had been We met io secret in the dead of night
When there was none to watch us, not an eye, . so remarkable. But it was now the grace of languor,
Save the lone dwellers of the silent sky, not of elasticity and buoyant youth, The deep red
To gaze nipon our love our pure delight: spot burned in the centre of her cheek-the rest of
And in that hour's anbroken solitude, which, as well as her brow, was of that clear, transpa
When the white moon bath veiled her in her beam, rent wbiteness, common to her disease. Her eye—that
I've thought some vision of a blessed dream,
Or spirit of the air betore me stood, eye, whose expression I have never seen equalled, and
And held communion with me. Iu mine ear, which remains so intensely in my memory, her eye Her voice's sweet notes breathed not of this earth, alone appeared unchanged. Yet even this was changed.
Her beauty seemed not ot' a mortal birth, Its brightness still remained, but it had an unhealthy
And in my lieart there was an awful fear
A thrill, like some deep warning from above, glassiness superadded ; and it was sunken within its
That soothed its passion to a spirit's love. No. XXXIX-VOL. IV.
words...“ Are you to be my governess ?" she repeated,
looking into the mild lady's face, who she perceived A SKETCH.
grew very red.
"Little girls must not ask questions," said Mr. LeverIt was Ida's birth-day; and her papa, before he left ton, patting her cheek, and smiling at the same time, home, had invited a number of nice ladies and gentle “May I again say I do not exactly agree with you ?" men, and a great many little folk, to his house to spend observed the lady. « Little girls may surely ask the evening--and there was to be a dance,---and the questions, provided they do it in a modest, quiet mancarpet in the great drawing-room was removed,-- and ner, and without interrupting the conversation of others. the beautiful curtains and couches that had been cover Curiosity is a virtue, when it seeks to discover what is ed with ever so much striped cotton, were disrobed, and necessary and useful to be known; it only becomes looked as beautiful as---oh dear! my young friends dangerous when, like the lady in Blue Beard, it peeps must find the simile. Well, Ida's head, I am sorry to | into forbiden things." say, ran upon nothing but finery for ten days at least “I have read Blue Beard,” said Ida, anxious to disbefore this grand gala; and she had neglected every play her information," and a great many other books;" thing in the shape of work or lessons, and talked of adding, with a dangerous longing for admiration, “ did blond and bouquets as if she were a milliner's maid.
you see me dance !" I beg it to be understood, that I would not make the “ Yes, my dear." acquaintance of any young lady who disregarded her Ida looked as if she expected some commendation ; apparel, whose frock was not always neatly closed, but neither the lady (whose cheek was again pale) nor whose hair did not shine and throw off the sunbeams as her papa added one word of praise. This mortified the unsullied as they came ; because I know that a well little maid sadly, and she felt ready to burst into tears. ordered mind will invariably be shewn by well-ordered She, however, restrained herself, and was soon again and well-befitted garments. But the dress I admire is called upon to dance with Sybella Leslie. of habit, not of preparation ; and next to “ a sloven," - She certainly dances very gracefully," said the all rational people dislike a “ dresser,---one who thinks pale lady to Mr. Leverton; “ but I do not like to tell time is like gossamer, only useful in frittering and her so, because she appears to solicit applause; a female flouncing ;---but to my story.
cannot be too early taught the danger of vanity, and Ida was ushered into the drawing-room by Nurse the true incitement to accomplishments." Scroop, who whispered, “ Hold up your head, my dar « And what is the true incitement ?" ling, and speak out, and shew off your dancing : you'll “ Usefulness." beat them all out, though there are a great many strange " But you would not make a woman merely useful?" ladies---my beauty---that's a love !" And old nurse persisted Mr. Leverton. parted with her nurseling, after administering this pre « No.--I would make her greatly useful. I consider cious sugar-and-poison advice.
accomplishments to be so as well as knowledge. Even How the lamps burned---how the music played---how in the formation of a flower, the Almighty has made the ladies praised---how the children waltzed---I leave the more beautiful parts essential to its value. The to my young friends' imagination. Ida would have gaudy leaves of a tulip protect the germ from injury. been perfectly happy, had she not overheard Lady Sar On the same principle I would have every woman edu. casm say to Lady Deafness, that little Cecilia Howard cated rather to form a valuable whole, than a brilliant carried herself much better than Miss Leverton. Now,
part." she had so often been told to hold her head up, that she “I have heard some very clever persons say, that imagined it must be holding it well; and she positive education was always the effect of circumstances." ly strained her neck in the effort to make it has long as “ More shame for the parents who permit it to be Cecilia's. Presently Mr. Leverton, who had not en so!" replied the lady. “I, too, have often heard the tered until the compauy were assembled, came to her, observation ; but never from those who had been cared and taking her hand led her across the room, and in- for in their youth. I am willing to admit that strong troduced ber to a mild, pale lady, who took her on her minds are capable of great exertions, and frequently knee and kissed her so very kindly, that for a little educate themselves ; yet they always remind me of a while she ceased to think about her own Honiton lace garden where some glorious flowers are cherished with frock and her silver band; and thought she liked the peculiar care, but where you are perpetually annoyed strange visitor better than any one she had ever seen. by disagreeable weeds, that increase, multiply, and mar
" This is her seventh birth-day,” said Ida's papa; the beauty of the parterre. Nevertheless, granting adding,..." what will she be in ten years' time!"
that strong minds perform great things, what is to be. “ Every thing you could wish her, I am sure, if she come of the weak ones ?.--they are not less valuable in is properly managed," replied the mild lady.
the sight of their Creator because of their weakness ; “ If she has learnt nothing good, I am sure she has though if neglected in their youth they too often be. learnt nothing bad,” observed Mr. Leverton ; “ and come wicked. But I am betrayed into the error of that, at least, is something,"
speaking a homily, where I only intended to make a I cannot agree with you, I am convinced that the reply. The young ladies will expect us to lead the way mind never remains inactive: if she has learnt nothing | to their early supper ; and good, she must have learnt something bad. However, “ We shall have plenty of time to talk over dear we will try and root out the evil as soon as possible, Ida's education," interrupted her father, as he conducted and sow good seed in such fertile ground."
the lady to the supper-room. “ Are you to be my governess, then?" inquired Ida, Ida was very tired and very sleepy, yet she was who drew such a conclusion from the tenor of the lady's startled and surprised at the agitation of her nurse, who, when she conducted her from the drawing-room, “ You shan't send away my nurse--you shan't send almost suffocated her with tears and kisses.
away my nurse!" vociferated the angry Ida, losing all “ What's the matter, nurse ?" she enquired. “ Do respect for her father's presence and authority. Mr. take off my shoes and my frock. I wish nobody would Leverton, as I have said at the commencement of my ever give any balls; though every body did admire my story, did not understand how children ought to be dancing, except papa, and that pale mild lady."
managed; and so he looked towards his wife, as if he “Ah, miss, miss---that pale lady! you may well call wished her to determine what was to be done. her pale---so unlike your dear mamma, who had cheeks Mrs. Leverton advanced mildly from the other end of like roses. Mild---mild indeed! My poor darling, that the room; and addressing the nurse in a firm, and yet I have petted so much, and humoured in every thing, a very sweet-toned voice, observed : that I never in all my life contradicted, and who never • Take Miss Leverton out of the room, put her to knew what it was not to have her own way! Ah! bed, and to-morrow your master and I will determine you, my sweet young lady, will soon find the difference upon what course it is best to pursue as regards both between your poor nurse Scroop and a step-mother !" the young lady and yourself. Thus much I would say
"A what !” screamed Ida, stamping at the same now: I should be sincerely sorry that any old servant, moment on the floor.
after living long, and (to the best of her abilities) serv“ A step-mother !---A horrid step-mother, and most ing faithfully in this house, should be dismissed, unless likely a step-brother into the bargain: they will beat strong necessity commanded it. I am sure you are atyou black and blue, feed you on mouldy bread, and tached to your nursling; and next to my husband's dress you in coarse cloth."
happiness, it is both my duty and my pleasure to miIda wept outright at such a picture.
nister to the happiness of his child.". “ There, don't cry, darling," continued the kind Nurse Scroop had entered the drawing-room with a minded but most injudicious nurse ; “ don't cry, but go scowling brow and a trembling lip; but there was a to bed. I should not be at all surprised if you were dignity and sweetness about “the new lady," that both put to sleep in the garret by-and-by :---and to think that awed and won her; and without making any reply to his own servants knew nothing about the wedding till her observations, she curtsied respectfully, and left the to-night! Oh, I wish you were old enough to pluck room. up a spirit!”
“I opposed the mystery you wished preserved to"But I an old enough !" shouted the lady vixen ; ! wards Ida, as to my new relationship to her, my dear " and I know what a step-mamma is---it's worse ten Leverton," continued Mrs. Leverton, addressing her times, and wickeder, than a governess-- and I won't husband; “ because mystery is little else than falsehave a step-mamma, that I won't ; and I'll go to the hood—it is incompatible with either truth or innocence, drawing-room and say so.”.
and therefore should never have been resorted to: it “Oh! no! my lamb, you must not do that,” ex would have been much better for you to have told her daimed Mrs. Scroop; but before the words were out of that I was what the world calls a “ step-mother; and her mouth, the lady (who at that moment was as little then pointed out, kindly and judiciously, the advantages like “ a lamb" as can well be imagined) was out of the which I hope she will derive from my care and affection. nursery, down the stairs like a lapwing, and positively I cannot love you, dearest, without loving your child.” into the apartment were Mr. and Mrs. Leverton and one Mr. Leverton looked affectionately on his wife ; and or two intimate friends were conversing in a group near well he might. With more beauty than usually falls to the fire-place.
the lot of woman, she also possessed a store of rich and Ida Alung herself into her father's arms, and sobbed practical information, a calm judgment, a subdued and on his bosom. Her long, half-curled, silken hair fell patient spirit, and a warm heart. She was fully alive over her neck and shoulders, and her disarranged dress to the advantages of education, because she had experigave her altogether a wild and unrestrained appear. enced their excellence in herself; and she resolved to ance. The pale lady whom we shall hereafter designate devote herself steadily to the formation of Ida's characas Mrs. Leverton, kindly advanced to inquire the cause ter, and the direction of her abilities. “ I am not of her agitation; but the child in her violence, threw blessed," she would say, “ with a strong, or even a off the hand that would have caressed her, and sobbed healthy constitution ; and I am sure, that in a very few out, “ I won't have a step-mamma---I won't have a step years dear Leverton will again weep over his widowmamma !”
hood : be it my task to prevent its being lonely, as ,be“ And who told you you had a step-mamma ?” said fore. I will train Ida to be his friend and companion; her father.
I will build my monument within their bosoms; and " Oh, I know that lady is my step-mamma---indeed, when I am dead, they will bless me for the happiness indeed I won't!" persisted Ida, crying as if her heart 1 I planted in their own home.” would break. Nurse Scroop followed her down stairs, ✓ This excellent lady had taken a task of no little difbut dreaded to enter the room, lest her master and her | ficulty. It was very wicked, but it is no less true, that new mistress should be displeased at her mischievous Ida at first positively hated her step-mother with most interference.
decided hatred. Mr. Leverton disengaged the child from his arms; Poor nurse Scroop had of necessity been discharged; and walking to the door, observed the nurse on the | and Mrs. Leverton devoted herself, as she intended, to landing-place.
eradicate evil, and forward the growth of good in her “ This is some of your doings," he said to her, in an
said to her, in an | step-child's mind. She never attempted to mislead her, angry tone ; “ but since you are pleased thus to pervert in any way, or on any topic. She told her that God my daughter's mind, the sooner you provide for your had made her beautiful ; but she also convinced her, self elsewhere, the better."
| how much more admiration was excited by plain girls