Une robe en poult de soie rose glacé était relevée sur un côté par une guirlande de scabieuses, diminuant graduellement vers la ceinture. Au milieu de chaque fleur était une petite rosace en pierre qui jetait un feu comme des diamans. Le corsage à pointe tendu était. entouré de drapperies en tulle-illusion retenues par de petites scabieuses qui les serraient comme un ruban.

Une robe en tulle brodée en soie blanche, à petits losanges, garnie de deux guirlandes de petites roses blanches, formant tablier devant le jupon, et continuant autour du corsage en formant cœur par devant, et garnissant le haut de la mantille. Trois petites guirlandes de roses traversaient les manches et se réunissaient au bas sous une agraffe de fleurs. Bouquets de roses dans les cheveux.

Une robe de crêpe bleu garnie d'une blonde, prenant depuis la ceinture et traversant diagonalment le davant da jupon, pour former le volant autour. A chaque distance d'à peu près deux mains, ce volant était relevé comme une draperie retenue par une rose. Malgré le préjugé qui sépare ces deux nuances, on a trouvé ce costume très-jolie. Le haut du corsage était garnie de riehes blondes qui couvraient toute la manche, sur laquelle elle se relevait au milieu en draperie attachée par une rose. Une guirlande de petites roses, à la Mancini, formait la coiffure; les cheveux était très-bas par derrière.

On fait beaucoup de coiffures en rubans, ce qui va parfaitement avec la vogue que continue à obtenir cet accessoire de toilette.

Une simple toilette d'organdi ou de gaze unie prend un aspect d'élégance en nouant autour de la taille une longue ceinture à bouts flottans. Au bas des manches, on place un nœud de rubans dont les bouts tombent gracicusement sur le bras.

Après avoir parlé des élégantes superficies de la toilette, nous davons une mention particulière à la base fondamentale de toute gracieuse tournure. Nous ne pouvons mieux atteindre notre but qu'en rappelant une heureuse invention qui a créé dans une ingénieuse mécanique, un système de grâce et de salubrité qui satisfait à la fois la coquetterie et la raison. Les corsets dont nous parlons sont maintenant adoptés dans toutes les familles et dans toutes les pensions, où l'on a pu apprécier l'avantage d'un corset qui se délace par la simple pression d'un ressort, et n'expose jamais aux accidens trop fréquens qui proviennent de l'entrave de d'un lacet. L'autre système de corset, plus compliqué dans son mécanisme, mais tout aussi simple dans son usage, se lace aussi facilement qu'il se délace.

Les

On remarque de nouvelles formes de robes, se rapprochant toujours des façons de l'année dernière, mais avec plus de liberté dans le choix des détails. Une robe de satin brochée violet, garnie sur les devans ouverts d'une dentelle noire, laissant voir une jupe en citron, garnie d'un volant en dentelle noire. manches à hauts sabots de dentelle descendait aux coudes, et le corsage était garni à la poitrine d'une mantille de dentelle. La jeune femme qui portait cette robe, était coiffé à la sévigné avec deux branches de raisin noir mêlés à ces touffes crêpés.

Uue robe en satin rose, à bouquets de lilas blanc satinès, s'attachait par des agraffes de perles, sur un

coupé. Un autre, de même forme, en velours turc bleuciel, ouvrait sur une jupe de satin blue garnie de blonde blanche.

Le ve

Il est nécessaire d'établir la généralité avec laquelle ces robes ouvertes sont accueillies. C'est à tel point que sur six robes habillées, élégantes, on en voit au moins quatre de cette façon. Cest surtout pour le velours que la forme ouverte va se répéter cet hiver. lours qui reçoit peu d'ornemens étrangers, prend de la recherche dans cette double robe, dont la plus importante est celle que l'ou ne semble considérer que comme accessoire.

Il y avait quelques étoffes d'automne, poult de soie satiné ou pékin broché, tout-a-fait disposées d'apres les façons vieilles modes; entre autres un poult de soie vert amandine, garni de volans en ruban satiné du même vert, sur les devans de la robe ouverte; une autre, en pékin gris à fleurs rouges, était garnie tout autour d'un falbalas de même étoffe à petites dents découpées.

Les rubans en écharpe sont en dehors de toute descriptions possibles. Que l'on se figure une longeur de prés d'un quart, en satin aussi épais qu'un velours, et semée de bouquets en soie nuancée, ou de petites fleurs blanches sur couleur; quelques-unes de ces écharpes sont bordées d'une frange, mais plus généralement le ruban est coupé simplement.

On voit des coiffures de fleurs en velours ou de petites fleurs argentées, parures plus négligées que des bijoux, et plus parée que des fleurs ordinaires; puis des petits chapeaux en velours noir, sur lesquels se détachent un bouquet de roses et de rubans de satin. Des turbans de cachemire ou d'étoffe de soie brodé dans l'inde, en soie et fil d'or, enfin les petits chapeaux en gaze, forme arrondie, surmontés au milieu de ses plis nombreux par des grapes légères ou des marabouts.

MISCELLANEA.

Purchased Civility,—Our great idea of civility is, that the person who is poor should be exceedingly civil to the person who is wealthy and this is the difference between the neighbour ing nations. Your Frenchman admits no one to be quite his equal-your Englishman worships every one richer than himself as undeniably his superior. Judge as from our servants and our shopkeepers, it is true we are the politest people in the world. The servants, who are paid well-and shopkeepers, who sell high-scrape, and cringe, and smile. There is no country where those who have wealth are treated so politely by those to whom it goes; but at the same time there is no country where those who are well off, live on such cold, and suspicious, and ill-natured, and uncivil terms among them. selves.-H. L. Bulwer's France.

French and English Politeness.-The rich man who travels in France murmurs at every inn and at every shop; not only is he treated no better for being a rich man; he is treated worse in many places, from the idea, that because he is rich he is likely to give himself airs. But, if the lower classes are more rude to the higher classes than with us, the higher classes in France are far less rude to one another. The dandy who did not look at an old acquaintance, or looked impertinently at a stranger, would have his nose pulled, and his body run through with a small sword-or damaged by a pistol bulletbefore the evening were well over. Where every man wishes to be higher than he is, there you find people insolent to their fellows, and exacting obsequiousness from their inferiorswhere men will allow no one to be superior to themselves, there you see them neither civil to those above them, nor impertinent to those above them, nor yet very courteous to those in the same station. The nanners checquered in one country by softness and insolence, are not sufficiently courteous and gentle in the other. Time was in France (it existed in England to a later date), when politeness was thought to consist in placing every one at his ease. A quiet sense of their own dignity rendered persons insensible to the tear of its being momentarily forgotten. Upon these days rested the shadow of a by-gone chivalry, which accounted courtesy as one of the virtues.Ibid.

Street Music,-Street music pleases the poor, and annoys such folks as legislators; hence, to play in the streets is an act of vagrancy. But it causes obstructions-twenty or thirty people collect round the performers. The concerts at Lord Fiddlefaddle's cause obstruction-a hundred insolent livery servants are collected round the door, quarrelling, swearing, and flinging out their ribaldries; but there is no law against concerts at Fiddlefaddle House, and the Legislature has not made the issuing of cards for bails, routs, and assemblieswhereby crowds of carriages, cabriolets, and livery servants are collected, to the obstruction of the public thoroughfare and the disturbance of a neighbourhood-an offence.

It is the custom to preach contentment to the poor, and to tell them to be happy on coarse and slender food, but they are not encouraged to make sweet meals on any of the brown bread or hard crusts of the pleasures. The rich, who have a very good notion that the poor can regale on broken victuals, have no notion that their hearts can leap to a cracked fiddle. They see that coarse food is suitable to them, but do not see that the simple pleasures are also suitable. They supply their wants according to the rule of poverty, and withhold their enjoymeuts according to the rule of luxury. Dives would say, give the crumbs from my table to that hungry man, and take away that fiddler or piper who is making such an execrable noise to that crowd of people. It never strikes him that the fiddle is as sweet to the ears of the one set, as the broken bread to the hungry mouth of the other. He knows that the food which his luxury would loathe, is delicious to the famished wretch, but he does not know how the weary and depressed heart dances to the sound harsh and grating to his more cultivated ear. He has a very exact notion of the necessaries suitable to the poor-he would not say to a hungry man "Don't care about such trash as stale bread and cold potatoes, turtle and venison are the only eatables which a man can wish to have." He knows better than this, but he has no notion of the pleasures suitable to the poor, and would, without an idea of cinelty, withdraw all means of gratification, as worthless which bore no analogy to the turtle and venison diet-such as the rude music on which we are harping.—Examiner.

Colour of Rivers in Floods.-The reddish brown colour so common in freshes of rivers in Europe, and every where else, is almost entirely the effect of cultivation; and the natural colour of rivers even in the highest and longest continued floods, where all the country is still in woods or pastures, is ever that of a dark brown or blackish, but more diluted than that coming from peat bogs. It is comparatively very clear, and deposits but a trifling sediment.

French and English Travelling.-A recent French writer describing the state of travelling in France and England, says "In France the postillions are frequently drunk, always dirty, and the most coarse and intractable people in the world. In England the contrast is most striking; both men and cattle are always well dressed; and the drivers with white cravats, good jackets, and well-napped great coats; their horses harnessed as if for some grand ceremony. In France a postillion takes care, first of his own safety, and then that of his horses; to him the traveller is a concern of supererogation. In England the traveller commands the driver, in France he obeys him."

Fuel of Volcanoes-Water seems to be a necessary agent in the production of volcanic fire; for only extinct volcanoes are found inland. The most active are in the immediate vicinity of the sea, and some are actual sub-marine. The matter that feeds them does not seem to be universally diffused, but rather collected in different spots. Hence, they always exist in groups; yet the action of one of the volcanoes of the same ground is found to be entirely independent of that of the others, Stromboli being asleep while Etna is raging. The fire is probably seated at some distance under the surface; but the eruption matter does not appear to come from a very great depth. The source of this fire remains unknown, notwithstanding many plausible conjectures. Beds of coal and pyrites do not account for it, neither does the pure metallic basis of potass and soda.

Water-Professor Brande estimates the total number of gallons, daily supplied by the several water companies, at 29,000,000; in raising which, twenty-one steam engines are used, equal to the power of 1,346 horses. The professor considers filtration the best means of purifying water; and at a recent lecture, exhibited the model of an invention, now in use by one of the water companies, which filters 500,000 cubic feet of water per day. He had the day before seen the apparatus at work; and though the surface of the water was frozen, and the process of filtration was going on below as usual.

Mixture of IVoods.-It is supposed that the mixture of woods from all parts of the world, as in the hull of a ship generates diseases of various kinds, from the chemical influencies of their several juices or saps; and that they thus de stroy each other. In proof of this, it was observed lately, when the Shannon was examined, that the oak treenails had destroyed the fir planking, for two or three inches round each treenail hole; and, in another instance, where oak combings were used in a teak ship, both woods were destroyed for several inches where they were connected. This, it is justly observed, is matter for a scientific and philosophical inquiry.

Melon Sugar.-It has been discovered in the state of South Carolina, that a very fine quality of sugar may be extracted from the water-melon, which grows in great perfection there. The landlord of a public-house has shown that all the sugar used in his house during the preceding twelve months, and which had passed for the finest cane, had been obtained from water-melons of his own raising.

The Forest Broom. The seeds of the forest broom are said to be an excellent substitute for coffee. Being moderately roasted, ground, and prepared in the manner of ordinary coffee, the difference is represented to be scarcely perceptible. In that part of Holland bordering upon Germany, this substance has been used for coffee for many years.

A Spider with ten Eyes. The last number of the Techno logical Repository notices, as having been seen by the editor, under an opaque microscope, a black Spider from Africa, with no less than ten eyes." Of these, four were placed in a square cluster in front of its head; two on each side of the front, affixed in pairs, on raised appendages; and two large ones were placed behind the head.

No. 50.]

OR

PENANCES AND EXPIATIONS OF THE

HINDOOS.

ACCORDING to the Hindu legislator, certain bodily defects, infirmities, or diseases, are penalties for sins committed in this life, or for some bad actions in a preceding state. These evidences of guilt are enumerated with the accustomed disgusting precision: e. g. a stealer of gold has whitlows on his nails: the slayer of a brahmen has marasmus; a false detractor, stinking breath; a stealer of grain, the defect of some limb; a stealer of dressed grain, dyspepsy; a stealer of a lamp, total blindness; the mischievous extinguisher of it, blindness in one eye, &c. "Penance, therefore, must invariably be performed for the sake of expiation; since they, who have not expiated their sins, will again spring to birth with disgraceful marks."

The comparative guilt of various offences is then declared; but the gloss has greatly varied the degrees of guilt. For instance, certain crimes, which are declared in the original text to be equal to the killing of a brahmen, the first crime in the highest degree, are, by the construction given to the text by the interwoven comment, merely crimes of the second degree, and only nearly equal to the slaughter of a priest, which the comment pronounces to be less than incest in a direct line. Amongst the crimes in the third degree, are slaying a bull or cow, selling oneself, usury, selling a wife or child, abandoning a kinsman, working in mines of any sort, or engaging in great mechanical works, excessive attention to music or dancing, killing a woman, denying a future state of rewards and punishment, and application to the books of a false religion. The latter

seems to be an obstacle in the way of christian teachers. Amongst the minor offences, which work degradation or defilement only, without exposure to legal chastisement, are giving pain to a brahmen, smelling at any thing unfit to be smelt, cheating, speaking falsely, kill ing an insect or worm, great perturbation of mind, &c. The penances for the various crimes and offences previously enumerated are then specified. If a brahmen slay a brahmen (without deliberate malice), he must dwell in a forest twelve years, subsisting on alms, with the skull of the slain beside him: or voluntarily expose himself as a mark to archers; or cast himself headlong thrice into a blazing fire or walk a hundred yójanas, repeating any one of the Védas, eating barely enough to sustain life; or give all his property to some brahmen learned in the Veda, or a sufficiency of wealth for his life, or a house and furniture; or he may sacrifice himself to preserve a cow, which atones for the crime of killing a priest. For drinking the spirit of rice, a crime in the highest degree, the penance is severely burning the body; or drinking, "boiling hot until he die," pure water, or milk, or clarified butter. The reason assigned for considering this act so criminal is the following puerile one-"Since the spirit of rice is distilled from the mala, or filthy refuse of the

NO. L. VOL. v.

[VOL. 5,

grain, and since mala is also a name for sin, let no brahmen, chsatriya, or vaisya, drink that spirit!"

It appears from the 95th verse of this chapter, that inebriating liquor was extracted from the dregs of sugar," at the period when this code was written. Here is, then, direct testimony, not only to the existence of the sugar-cane in India at a very remote date. but to the manufacture of sugar, and the distillation of spirit from the gross residue or molasses.

:

The following is the atonement prescribed for the sin of killing a cow. The offender must "drink for the first month barley corns (sic); shaved and covered with the hide, he must fix his abode on pasture ground. he may eat a moderate quantity, but without any factitious salt, for the next two months, at the time of each fourth repast, regularly bathing, and keeping his members under control; all day he must wait on the herd, and stand quaffing the dust they raise ; at night, having servilely attended and saluted them, and seated himself near to guard them, pure and free from passion, he must stand while they stand, follow them when they move together, and lie down by them when they lie down should a cow be sick, or terrified by tigers or thieves, or fall, or stick in the mud, he must relieve her by all possible means: in heat, in rain, or in cold, or while the blast furiously rages, let him not seek his own shelter, without first sheltering the cows to the utmost of his power; neither in his own house, or field, or floor for treading out grain, nor in those of any other person, let him say a word of a cow who eats, or of a calf who drinks; by waiting on a herd, according to these rules, for three months, the slayer of a cow atones for his guilt; his penance being performed, he must give ten cows and a bull, or, his stock not being so large, must deliver all he possesses to such as best know the Veda." Almost every other penance is in like manner tagged with some gift to brahmens.”

66

"For killing insects of any sort bred in rice or other grains, or those bred in fluids, or in fruit or flowers, eating clarified butter is a full expiation."-" If a man cut for no good purpose such grasses as are cultivated, or such as rise in the forest spontaneously, he must wait on a cow for one day, nourished by milk alone."

The next series of penances are prescribed for eating and drinking what are forbidden to be tasted; such as touching any spiritous liquors, or even smelling the breath of a man who has been drinking spirits; eating food left by a woman, a súdra, a cat, a crow, a mouse, a dog, or an ichneumon; tasting mushrooms, or any thing brought from a slaughter-house: any such forbidden food undesignedly swallowed must be instantly vomited up, and the party must purify himself with legal expiations.

Some trifling acts, which nevertheless degrade, are expiated by a suppression of the breath, fasting a day, or touching a cow,

He who says, "hush!" or "pish!" to a brahmen, or" thou" (to a superior), must bathe, eat nothing for

B

the rest of the day, and appease him by clasping his feet with respectful salutation.

For striking a brahmen even with a blade of grass, or tying him by the neck with a cloth, or overpowering him in argument, and adding contemptuous words, the offender must soothe him by falling prostrate.

An assaulter of a brahmen, with intent to kill, shall remain in hell 100 years; for actually striking him, 1000.

As many small pellets of dust as the blood of a brahmen collects on the ground, for so many thousand years must the shedder of that blood be tormented in hell,

The exact details of the different penances, heretofore mentioned by name only, are then given.

The penance termed prajapati is the common penance, and consists in eating for three days only in the morning, for three days only in the evening, for three days food unasked, and for three days more nothing. The penance called santapana (either from the devout man so named, or from tormenting) is this-eating milk, clarified butter, and water boiled with cusa grass, and then fasting entirely for a day and night. The "very severe penance" is eating, as before, a single mouthful for three times three days, and for three days wholly abstaining from food. The "ardent penance," is swallowing nothing but hot water, hot milk, hot clarified butter, and hot steam, each for three days successively. nance called paráca is a total fast for twelve days. The chándrayana, or lunar penance, consists in diminishing the food by one mouthful daily during the dark fortnight, and increasing it during the bright fortnight, performing an ablution regularly at sunrise, noon, and sunset. This lunar penance is susceptible of sundry modifications, and is, according to its mode of performance, termed the ant-shaped, barley-shaped, that of an anchoret, or of children.

The pe

It is repeatedly inculcated that the mere act of penance, unaccompanied by confession, repentance, and sincere loathing of the sin committed, has no virtue; and the offender is reminded of "the certainty of retribution in a future state."

SONG.

-

MOTHER dost weep that thy boy's right hand,
Hath taken a sword for his father's land?
Mother! where should the brave one be,
But in the ranks of bravery?

Mother! and was it not sad to leave,
Mine own sweet maiden alone to grieve?
Julia, where should the brave one be,
But in the ranks of bravery?

Mother! if thou in death were laid,
Julia! if thou were a treacherous maid;
Oh, then it were well that the brave should be
In the front ranks of bravery!

Mother! my guardian! O be still-
Maiden let hope thy bosom fill;
Kiral and country! how sweet to be,
Battling for both in bravery!

Bravery-aye-and victory's hand,
Shall wreath my Saki with golden band-
And in the camp the shouts shall be,
O! how he fought for liberty!

FERDINAND FITZMORRIS.

IT signifies little whether it was on the fifth, the tenth, or the fifteenth of the January of 1827, that the prow of an English vessel proudly severed the silvery waves of the Imperial Tagus. From this vessel landed Ferdinand Fitzmorris: he alone looked on the change of country and prospect, unmoved by either; there was a shade upon his birth, and it had darkened his whole existence. He knew that his father was rich, powerful, and generous-that his mother was nobly born and beautiful-but what availed the knowledge? there was a spot on that mother's fame, and the stain rested upon her son ! Fitzmorris was beloved by his companions, courted by his associates, and respected by the whole regiment: had an artist or sculptor sought a figure of manly beauty as a study, he could not have found one more perfect-yet he was the victim of heart-corroding and irremediable repinings. "Others," would he sometimes say, "have felt a mother's clasp, have knelt for a father's blessing-I have never experienced the delights of either; my father looks on me with regret, not love -he is generous rather from pity than affection; and for my mother-I dare not breathe her her name, lest the winds of heaven should betray her secret, and she should find an enemy in her son !" With these feelings he had joined his regiment, and with these feelings he had left his country, and landed on a foreign soil.

It was evening ere the whole of the corps to which he belonged was landed, and established in its destined quarters, and, save Fitzmorris, all the officers were soon quaffing healths to those at home, and laughing at the stormy nights and rough days they had weathered on their passage. Some, who had made the Peninsular campaign, were volunteering advice, and relating ofttold tales, which were now heard with patience at least, if not with an increase of attention, by their former auditors; and gay young spirits were flashing out with hope and expectation, mingling glory and orange groves, and black eyes and balconies! Fitzmorris had thought of none of these, and shook his head when a couple of his high spirited companions had urged him to accompany them, and spend at least his first evening in Portugal with his brother officers; the request was renewed again and again with earnest warmth; Fitzmorris felt the sincerity of their invitation, but he could not thank them; he grasped a hand of each, and turned abruptly down one of those narrow streets which intersect the city of Lisbon in all directions.

Turning the first corner that presented itself, Fitzmorris hurried along beneath a high wall, careless of his way, and absorbed in his own dark and morbid feelings: suddenly the wall terminated in a lofty gateway, evidently serving as an entrance to some house of considerable size; a few lights glimmered from windows beyond this gate, and as Fitsmorris stood for an instant watching them, the sound of a guitar, softly and sadly touched, fell on his ear; had it been a strain of lighthearted gaity, in his present mood he would have fled from it as from a contagion; but this was no lay of pleasure, it fastened on his heart, as it were, by a spell, and while he stood beneath the casement, a thousand mingled feelings rushed in tumult across his mind; ere long, a voice blended with the chords of the instrument -it was that of a woman-not one of those shrill overpowering voices so usual in Portugal, but a low, wail

ing, melancholy sound, which swept, as it seemed to Fitzmorris, through the very depths of his spirit, The song ceased, but the light finger still stirred the strings, and as the soft sounds murmured past him, the young Englishman endeavoured to picture to his fancy the countenance of the invisible performer. The music died away, and a brighter light flashed on him as he stood; he started and looked up-the casement was open, and the gentle musician appeared on the balcony above him: himself in deep shade, he could distinguish the form, the face, the very features distinctly, as they were developed by the light from the apartment: the guitar was yet in her hands, and a broad azure ribbon, from which it was suspended, was cast about her neck; one small foot, in a shoe of the same tint, extended somewhat beyond the rail of the balcony, as she leaned listlessly over it: she appeared to Fitzmorris to be about sixteen years of age: her eyes were large, and dark, and tender; her fine hair was twisted round her head in the style of a Grecian statue, with one small rosebud wreathed in the braid that pressed her left temple. As she stood, she struck a few unconnected cords, and then casting her eye upwards, she murmured, rather than sung the first stanza of an Indian ballad, which Fitzmorris had often heard in Florence-it was a fond, a tender welling-out of sensibility; but he had never though it so beautiful as now-the stillness, broken only by the distant hum of the more crowded streetsthe gloom enveloping every surrounding object, while the singer herself stood out in broad light, and surpassing beauty-all conspired to invest it with a new charm! The stanza terminated too speedily, and Fitzmorris, urged by a new and inexplicable feeling, caught up the strain, and responded to the sentiment; he was an exquisite musician, and his voice was perfect; Italian was the language which he had loved from his boyhood; he had been told that his mother spoke it like a native his beautiful, his high-born mother! he had studied it, he had loved it, for her sake. And here was another gentle, glorious being, who breathed it, as it were, instinctively;-he looked steadfastly at the lovely stranger, as he replied to the minstrelsy, and only marvelled if his fair, his fond, his fallen mother, had ever been so beautiful as this? Suddenly there was a bending forward of the fairy figure above him; a low sound, as of quick convulsive breathing,-then a white hand hurriedly displaced the rose from its glossy restingplace, and it fell at his feet; he looked up to thank the gentle donor, but she had already disappeared; in another instant the casement closed, and all was dark

ness.

Fitzmorris slowly quitted his station: a new emotion possessed him wholly; so young, so beautiful, so tender; so beyond all which he had ever pictured to himself of woman! And she had not spurned at his first efforts to attract her notice; she had even shewn him that they were not displeasing to her, and she had done it so gracefully-with such a mixture of momentary abandonment and redeeming modesty. There was such a mingling of the real and the romantic in this, his first adventure in Portugal, that he felt like some being translated, as it were, by magic into a new world of thought, and light, and fancy. The following day every occurrence appeared doubly vapid and commonplace; the conversation of his companions was soulless, tedious, and uninteresting: he seemed to stand alone

none could enter into his feelings, or comprehend them; he heard his brother officers expatiating on bad quarters, close streets, and all the little annoyances which make up the sum of earthly evil when greater ills are wanting, and he wondered that they should look on Lisbon, save as an enchanted land-for him, it was summer even now! the sun gorgeous, and the Tagus one sheet of molten silver! Thus the day passed, and the evening again found in the Rua do, beneath the casement of his beautiful unknown; from her he had imbibed, as it were, a new existence, all was light, and music around him-his sorrows were forgotten: one thought, one feeling, alone possessed him, and he awaited, hour after hour, the re-appearance of the lovely vision, with an anxiety, which doubled, in his idea, the term of her absence: but, this night, Fitzmorris awaited it in vain; hour after hour sped on, and the guitar was silent, and the casement dark; and he turned at length reluctantly away, with a heart-sickness which he dared not avow even to himself

Another day slowly waned to a close, and Fitzmorris suffered himself to be included in the party which his brother officers had formed to St. Carlos; he was an enthusiast in music, and he entered the theatre with an emotion of anticipating pleasure. The opera had already commenced, aud scarcely conscious of the motive that compelled him to do so, he eagerly traversed the whole house with his eyes for a time he could distinguish little, save the outlines of the figures that thronged the boxes, owing to the faint light that was thrown on them; but at length the search proved successful,— it must be so- -those large, dark, melting eyes-that classical and pallid brow-that small, soft, exquisitely moulded hand now pillowing a cheek so white, could belong only to his beautiful unknown! Nor was the eye of Fitzmorris the only one which now lingered on the striking but melancholy countenance of the gentle minstrel; and he saw, with an irrepressible emotion, that her cheek crimsoned as she chanced to meet the fixed gaze of his companions-for a moment she remained with averted eyes, her attention apparently absorbed by the performance, and then suddenly drawing forward the veil that fell back upon her shoulders, she threw it lightly across her brow, and hid from Fitzmorris the only face he had ever looked on in aught save indifference. 66 Pretty coquette," laughed out some of his light-hearted companions; but he remembered only that she had passed him over unrecognised, and probably unthought of. He could not bear the idea, and instinctively he drew a little rose-bud from his breast, and fastened it conspicuously among the ornaments of his dress. As he was busied in making the arrangement, his ear caught from the stage the very air in which he had breathed out a response to the minstrelsy of his beautiful stranger: he looked eagerly towards her-the veil was thrown back for a momenther eye caught the rose-bud, which he still held half unfastened in his hand, and then met his. It was enough! a faint smile played upon her pensive countenance, and the veil again jealously over it.