men. ors. Major Winston. sibly from the patriotic wish to spare their own country- We understand that the scene at the grave was most Of all grains, barley is the most liberally provided with this formidable appendage. Bacon. The flesh of swine that has been subjected to the pro gress of smoking over a wood fire, is termed bacon; but the parts to which this term is most usually applied, and which are usually chosen for bacon, are the hams, and the cheeks or jowls. A good ham is one of the most excellent kinds of food, and this goodness in a great meacelebrated, are the Westphalia, principally brought from sure is depending on their preparation. The kinds most Hamburg: the Hampshire, from England, and in the United States, the Virginia or Southern ham generally. A few days before his death, he observed that for the It is not known that there is any thing peculiar in the last twenty-eight years, he had never failed upon the twenty-second of February, and Fourth of July, to have feeding or pickling the Hamburg hams; but their superioThe law, which has no respect of persons, at length on his "regimentals" in honor of those days. He exrity is attribured to the manner in which they are smoked. laid its hands on this polished highwayman, who it had pressed a wish to be able to appear in the 'dress of the This is performed in large chambers in the third or fourt' described in a thousand bills and proclamations. He was soldier on the 22d. On the 22d he was almost in an in-stories of buildings, to which the smoke is conducted in not taken while attacking the king's lieges, but after hav- sensible state, but the firing of the morning guns filled tubes from fires of oak or maple chips in the cellar of the ing assaulted several bottles of wine. In plain language, him with evident emotion. The day was bright and building. In passing this distance, the vapor which he was arrested, while drunk, at the Hole-in-the-Wall beautiful, but his companions passed on to their usual smoke usually holds, is deposited, and the hams are pertavern, in Chandos street. His capture excited a sensa- festivities without him. And it was not more than an fectly dry and cool during the whole process. The tion proportioned to the repute he had gained in life.-hour or two after the evening guns had told the day was Hampshire bacon is made from pork not scalded in dressAfter being arrainged, convicted, and condemned, while over, that his spirit bade them all farewell forever. ing, but deprived of the hair by quick fires of straw or other combustible materials. This singeing is repeated he lay awaiting his doom in Newgate, he was visited by two or three times as the case may require, when the many ladies, among whom were several of rank, all anxious to see the man, who, in his most lawless courses, hog is cut up, pickled and carefully smoked. These ever preserved a degree of romantic and most unwonted hams are particularly hard and fine, which is attributed courtesy to those of their sex. There rested on him, beto the skin not having been softened by scalding. The sides, we believe, no stain of blood, though, from the life Virginia or Southern hams are supposed to owe much of he had led, this would be difficult to determine. The their superior flavor to the animals being allowed to run life of Duval was interceded for, but in vain. On the at large the most of the time of feeding: to their being much in the woods, and wild, giving more firmness to twenty-first of January, 1669-70, when he had barely the muscle; and to their feeding much on acorns and reached the age of twenty-seven, he was executed at other products of the forests. Virginia hams are usually Tyburn. His youth, comeliness, and extraordinary small, the hogs themselves rarely weighing over two hundred; and the pickling and smoking performed in the best manner. The great defects in smoking, commonly are, the hams are too near the fire; and the house is too tight. The hams are in consequence kept too warm from the fire, and the condensation of the vapor keeps them wet. Dryness while smoking is indespensible to good bacon. Richmond Va. Compiler. nor was held in the male line nntill about 1400, or one Mr. Spark's new life of Washington, that Hertburn was ORIGIN OF THE WASHINGTON NAME.-We learn from the original name of the Washington family; that the latter name was probably assumed by William de Hertburn, between the year 1261 and 1274, and that the mahundred and thirty years. During this period the name seems to have been written Wesswington, though it is sometimes found Wessington. In its subsequent changes it was probably written variously at different times, and by different branches of the family. At the Hercaused tears, it is said, to dim many gentle eyes, when ald's College, in the "Visitatation Books," (so Mr. he suffered at the fatal tree. Thanks to the improved morals of society, and thanks to an improved system of Sparks called it,) of Northamptonshire, for the year 1618, police, the race of Duvals are now extinct in the land,bert Washington. These persons were uncles to John I found the autographs of Alban Washington and Ronever, it is hoped, to be revived. and Lawrence Washington, who emigrated to Virgi character, in which a vein of good ran through the bad, English Paper. The Rose Bed of Bengal. Ghazipore stands upon the north bank of the Ganges, about 70 miles by water, below Benares. It is not a very extensive town, but is justly celebrated as the Gul istan (the rose-bed) of Bengal. In the spring of the year an extent of miles around the town presents to the eye a continual garden of roses, than which nothing can be more beautiful and fragrant. The sight is perfectly dazzling: the plain as far the eye can reach, extending in the same bespangled carpet of red and green. The breezes, too, are loaded with the sweet odor which is wafted across the river Ganges. The flower is cultivated thus extensivly for the manufacture of rose-water, that of Ghazipore being justly esteemed as surpassing in excellence every preduction of the sort. John Bunyan. While in Bedford jail, he was called upon by a Quaker, desirous of making a convert of him. "Friend John," said he, "I am come to thee with a message from the Lord; and after having searched for thee in half the prisons in England, I am glad I have thee at last." "If the Lord had sent you," returned Bunyan, "you need not have taken so much pains to find me out; for the Lord knows I have been here these twelve years." nia. 'A TOUGHER.'-Some one was telling Sam Hyde about the longevity of the mud turtle. "Yes," said Sam, "I know all about that; for I once found a venerable fellow in my meadow, who was so old -Paradise, Year 1. Adam.' Hurl Gate. The N. Y. Star says the passage through Hell Gate' is now free from ice! What cold weather we must have had! AGRICULTURE. From the Monthly Genesse Farmer. THE FARMER'S DICTIONARY OF TERMS USEFUL IN THE SCIENCE OF AGRICULTURE. Continued from our last. Awns. The long bristle-like terminations of the envelope of the kernel in some kinds of plants, is termed the awn or beard. It is particularly conspicuous in some kinds of winter wheat, in most varities of spring wheat, and in Narrow-souled people are like narrow necked bottles, all kinds of barley. Wheat without beards can be conthe less they have in them the more noise they make inverted into the bearded, and vice versa, by changing the letting it out. sowing from autumn to spring, or from spring to autumn. Bark. Modern writers on vegetable phisiology divide plants into exogenous and endogenus; in the first of which the additions that constitute growth are successively made on the exterior side of the parts from which they proceed; and in the last the growth is the result of additions made internally. The trees of northern regions, such as the pine, oak and elm, belong to the first class; the trees of tropical climes, such as the palm, cane, bamboo, and all grain-bearing plants, belong to the last.— The first named trees or plants only have a proper bark. In this class of vegetables, every year adds a new layer of wood, which is the alburnum; and a new layer of bark, which is denominated the liber. Bark, then, is divided into three parts; the inner layer called the liber, the zone of successive outer layers called the cellular envelope; and the exterior surface of this envelope, which is called the epidermis. A cross section of the bark of the basswood or elm, will exhibit this structure in perfection. The bark exercices an important influence in preserving plants from the effects of frost, and the alburnum from injury, and cannot be removed without inflicting severe or fatal injuries to the trees. Healthy and clear bark is essential to a vigorous growth; and an occasional wash of soap, of lime or ashes is found to be beneficial when trees are attacked by insects or by mosses. To be Continued. SELECT POETRY. From the Norfolk Democrat. THE FIVE MARYS. BY MRS. W. H. COX. "The early companions and constant associates of Mary Stuart, afterwards Queen of Scots, were Mary Beaton, Mary Seyton, Mary Fleming, and Mary Livingston, selected by her father from the families of the most powerful and attached of the Scotish nobles. Bright ivy wound above the towers Of feudal Holyrood, And brighter still its time-worn courts, For by that ancient mossy well, There stood a laughing band And free they dashed each wavelet gem, As had a cottage sheltered them. And from its brink they culled the tufts Of fresh wild evergreen; "And here," they said, "we'll twine a wreath And crown our Stuart queen!" Thus while they held their mimic state, With distant thunder's moan; And soon in wayward childhood's glee, The storm, which seemed an emblem apt, While faithful still though tempests wept, THE MOTHER. There's music in a mother's voice, More sweet than breezes sighing; A mother! how her tender arts Can soothe the breath of sadness, A mother! when, like evening's star, SENSATIONS. I feel, when I see him smile, Something that's pleasant, I feel when I hear him sing, Praise, and profane it, His, when I meet their gaze, I can dissemble,— Why, when I meet his eye, - When the gay ball is done, I never miss but one- He may be falser, But, could you see him waltz,Heavens! such a waltzer! Last evening, while turning The leaves of my "Handel," We saw a moth burning Its wings in the candle! I screamed, but his features With pleasure were lighted, And he said, "little creatures, They are so short sighted!" From the Baltimore Transcript. And grasp your faithful rifles; And strike the foe with wonder. And drive them from the border; The loggers are awake—and all Await the Gen'rals order: Britannia shall NOT "rule the MAINE," Nor shall she rule the water; They've sung that song full long enough, Much longer than they OUGHTER. The Aroostook's a right slick stream, Has nation sights of woodlands, And hang the fellow that would lose His footing on such good lands. And all along the boundary line There's pasture sports for cattle; But where that line of boundary is, We must de cide by battle. We do not care about the land, But they shan't hook it from us; Our country, right or wrong, we cry→→→ No budging or compromise. So-beat the sheepskin-blow the fife, And march in training order; Our way is through the wilderness, And all along the border. DO I NOT LOVE THEE. Do I not love thee ?-Ask the midnight sigh Breathed in deep silence-ask these eyes, now dim, Do I not love thee?-Ask my tailor why I run such very heavy bills with him! Do I not love thee?-Look upon my face, Behold each exquisite Hyperion curl; Do I not love thec?-Look upon my grace; Would it not suit a marquis, duke, or earl? Do I not love thee ?-Shame upon the thought! Each look I cast speaks love unspeakable; Do I not love thee ?-Everything I've bought (Though perhaps unpaid for,) of my love will tell. Why ask, then, if I love thee?-Every glanceThy look, thy voice, thy form, thy tearDoth throw my soul in a delicious trance, To think on thy ten thousand pounds a year! From Fraser's Magazine. CUI BONO? What is hope? a smiling rainbow Fighting fierce for hollow nuts; Demanding all, deserving nothingOne small grave is what he gets. A WORD TO THE YOUNG.-When Cyrus in his youth was on a visit to his grandfather, Astyages, the old monarch made him his cup bearer, in which capacity it was his duty to taste the wine before presenting it to the guests. Observing that Cyrus omitted this part of his duty, his grandfather reminded him of it. "Ah," said Cyrus, "I know that is the custom, but there is poison there," "Poison!" exclaimed Astyages, "how do you know that?" "I have seen the servants in my father's court, after drinking it, get giddy and fall to the ground." "Why," said the monarch, "do you not drink?" "Yes," replied Cyrus, "but I do not drink wine." WILD FOWL RAIL-ROADS.-As 'Potter's train' was going from Boston to Salem last evening, at 5 o'clock, a fine, fat, wild goose was found upon the track, its head snipped off by the wheels, and the eatable part of the bird was saved, just this side of Breed's wharf in Lynn. "Cow catchers" have long been in use upon our railroads, but this mode of taking wild fowl must be protested against by sportsmen as a "use" of rail-roads "not granted by their charters." Boston Daily Times AGREEABLE INFORMATION.-The Legislature of Mis souri are passing laws to improve the navigation of Salt River. If the proposed improvements are made, people who happen to be rowed up there hereafter will not find the passage quite so rough. THE RICHMOND COUNTY MIRROR: A WEEKLY PAPER PRINTED ON STATEN ISLAND, DEVOTED TO SCIENCE, LITERATURE, & NEWS. THREE DOLLARS PER ANNUM. NEW BRIGHTON, APRIL 6, 1839. VOLUME III.-NUMBER X. SELECT TALES. From the Southern Literary Messenger. THE GAME OF CHESS. BY THE AUTHORESS OF "LOSING AND WINNING," &C. Concluded trom our last. shell, she cried gether with so much care and pains. But be the cause "Dear Augusta, what do you mean? you must not what it might, Mr. Chauncey was paralyzed by the efremove another shell from this beautiful fabric!" With a motion not perfectly gentle, Miss Leigh withdrew her hand from Miss Eustace's grasp, and in silence proceeded to remove the shells. "Do persuade her, Mr. Chauncey," said Miss EusBoth Miss Leigh and Miss Eustace were much at tace with eagerness, Do persuade her to let alone this Mrs. Atkin's, and were frequently employed in making work of destruction. I only asked her if it was quite some fancy article-some elegant trifle, to leave behind perpendicular; and no doubt it was my point of obserthem as tokens of their regard. The former had finish-vation which made it appear otherwise. Dear Augusta," ed a screen which could not but satisfy the most delicate she added, throwing her arms round her friend's neck, taste, and was now employed in embroidering a white" do desist from your present purpose. I wish I had kept satin reticule for her friend: while Miss Leigh was mak- my foolish tongue quiet. You know not how sorry I ing a pyramid of various kinds of shells, an ornament am I made the remark." for the mantle-picce. This last was quite an arduous undertaking, as many of the shells were exceedingly small, and required great skill and taste so to arrange them as at once to match them with precision, and display their beauty to the greatest advantage. But Miss Leigh would not yield. Releasing herself from Miss Eustace's arms, she returned to her work of demolition, while she said— "I shall take it to pieces, Miss Eustace. I like not that any thing should go from beneath my hand that is not perfect." fect. He made one or two efforts at conversation, as he found silence very embarrassing. He tasted not the rich enjoyment which he sometimes had, while sitting in perfect silence beside the object of his admiration. But his efforts to converse were unavailing, as Miss Leigh answered only in monosyllables. He wished that Miss Eustace would do something to break the spell; but she had resumed her seat and her work on the other side of the room, and was silent and unobtrusive as usual.— Mrs. Atkins at length came in, and Chauncey hoped that relief was at hand; instead of this, the unpleasant explanation of Miss Leigh's retrograde work was to be made. To this the young lady made no reply, but with her mouth more firmly closed than ever, continued for a few All the little circle at the house watched the progress moments longer to undo her work. Increasing dissatisof this pyramid with interest, and with admiration of its "That is a right principle," thought Mr. Chauncey, faction, however, was legibly written upon her countenbeauty, and the taste of the fair architect. Mr. Chaun- " and is an excuse for" He stopped short, for he ance, till at length, closing her hands over the pyramid, cey was almost a daily witness of its increasing height, found himself in danger of having his judgment warp-she exclaimed, "This is too irksome," and at the same and certainly not behind any one in the praise he bes-ed by the emotions of his heart. Fixing his eyes upon instant pressed her hands together and reduced the fabtowed on it. He would sit for an hour together, assort- the pyramid, he fell into a train of musing. ric to a comelete ruin. ing the shells, and admiring the delicate fingers which "It is quite perpendicular, is it not, Mr. Chauncey?" fitted them in their places so neatly: Above all, admir- said Miss Eustace, supposing his mind engrossed by the ing the power that enabled the architect to carry on a object he seemed so intently viewing. work that seemed to require so much care and ingenui- "It is not," said Mr. Chauncey, roused by her reiterty, while her mind seemed quite free to engage in any ated question to examine the pyramid with a critical eye, subject of conversation, however foreign to her employ-"it is not; although I did not notice its declination till ment. One morning, as Miss Leigh was seated in the recess which was devoted to her use while erecting her pyramid, Miss Eustace came, as she frequently did, to overlook her for a few minutes. She looked on in silence for some time, and then said 66 'O, how could you do so?" cried Mrs. Atkins. "I'll make one for you Susan, after I go home," said she. "I could not go on with this-all satisfaction in it was forever destroyed." If Miss Leigh ever appeared lovely and fascinatingif she ever appeared to be all that a woman should be, it led to look for it. The defeer, howevor, is so slight that was for the fortnight that shcceeded the demolition of but few persons probably would notice it." the pyramid; and Horace Chauncey at length surren"You will not take it to pieces, Augusta," sald Miss dered himself to the force of her attractions. And yet Eustace, in an entreating tone. Miss Leigh removed her work to a greater distance from her, and turning it slowly around, examined it vc "It is the most beautiful thing, Augusta, that I ever ry carefully. saw. But is it quite perpendicular?" "Perfectly so," said Miss Leigh. "Yes, I must take it down, Abby-at least thus far," and she placed her finger on the pyramid. "The defect is not so slight as Mr. Chauncey says. Every one will observe it. I should have done so myself as soon as I had completed it. I am very glad you noticed it so "It undoubtedly is," said she, " for it is precisely per- seasonably, notwithstanding my petulence-my ill-hupendicular." "It is really the most beautiful thing I ever saw," repeated the other lady; and soon after took a seat on the other side of the room. mor. Will you forgive me, Abby?" she added, as she looked up with an expression of regret on her features, while she held up her lips for a kiss. his heart had not the perfect consent of his judgment; or rather, he feared that if his judgment were perfectly well informed, its sentence would be against him: "and yet, what have I to fear? The strong attachment of her friends speaks volumes in her praise, even did she need such testimony in her favor. And do I not, myself, constantly witness the vigor of her intellect—the correctness of her opinions--the delicacy of her feelings, and the tenderness of her sympathies? What can I ask more? Where else can I find as much?" He sighed deeply as he added, "Mrs. Atkins spoke truth-I have become fastidious. I am expecting that perfection on earth which is to be found only in heaven. And am I so perfect myself as to have a right to expect perfection in a wife? Alas, how many defects will you have to overlook in me, Augusta, should you ever be mineMr. Chauncey drew a long breath, as if relieved of and mine you must be. I can-I will hesitate no long, an oppressive burden. Yet notwithstanding this speedyer. This very evening you shall know the wishes of reconciliation, Mr. Chauncey's visit was not so pleasant my heart!" He immediately opened his writing-desk, "What are you doing, Miss Leigh?" enquired he, as usual. Miss Leigh seemed too intent on taking her filled a page with an avowal of his attachment, and in a tone of surprise, as soon as he had time to observe work to pieces, to converse with her usual vivacity.- closed with an offer of his hand. that instead of adding shells to the fabric, she was delib-Nor did her countenance wear exactly its most agreeacrately removing them—" have you made a mistake?” Abby has been finding fault with my work," she replied. Her words seemed almost to choke her, and her eye sparkled with unusual fire, while a very bright spot burned on her cheek. "I have nothing to forgive," said she, as she placed her lips upon those of her friend with the warm kiss of affection. On entering his friend's parlor in the evening, he ble expression. In a few minutes after the mutual kiss found the young ladies engaged at chess; Mr. Atkins had been given, a look of uneasiness, of discontent, set- was seated by them, watching the progress of the game, tled on her features, and a certain something lurked while his lady was occupied with a book in another part about her eye and mouth, which, to say the least, was of the room. He was so often with them that he came not attractive. There was something, too, in the clos- in and went out almost like one of the family, so that a ing of her mouth that rendered her far less beautiful than bow and a "good evening," were all that were necesusual. All this might have arisen from the unpleasant-sary before he mingled in the group, and became a partiness of the task of taking to pieces what she had put to- 'cipator in whatever was on hand. He now stationed imself behind Miss Leigh's chair, and fastened his eyes upon the chess-board. For some time, however, he could not fix his eyes on the game, so much were his thoughts engrossed by the important letter that seemed to burn in his pocket. "Our fair friends are so squally matcaed,” said Mr. Atkins, "that there is much interest in watching the contest." dy, "you well know that you were yourself victorious, and I will never play another game of chess while I live!" Her voice, though but slightly raised, had the tone of passionate excitement; and her words were scarcely uttered ere she burst into a paroxysm of tears. Miss Eustace again looked up with an expression of distressstood in suspense a moment as if in doubt what to do, and "Have you frequently played since you have been then silently left the room. here?" inquired Chauncey. "Very seldom," Miss Leigh replied. "Are you petrified?" said Mr. Atkins, as he turned round and abserved Mr. Chauncey, standing immove"I thought so," said he, "or I must before this eve-able beside the chess-table, and with his eyes rivetted ning have found you thus engaged." "They played last evening," said Mr. Atkins, "and had a warmly contested battle." "And who was conqueror?" asked Chauncey. "O, Augusta," said Miss Eustace, looking up, "but much against my will, I assure you. I never tried harder for victory in my life." upon it. The question of Mr. Atkins roused him, and drawing out his watch, while his voice betrayed much emotion, he said brought in the letters and papers which had just arrived by the mail. Looking them over, Mr. Atkins caught up one, exclaiming This is curious!-this must be Horace's hand, and the post-mark is Boston." 'Pray, open it!" cried Mrs. Atkins-" What does he say?" "Why he says," said Mr. Atkins, after rapidly running the letter over-" he says that he writes to bid us a good bye, which he could not come to utter in his own person," "Good-bye!” said his lady, "pray when did he leave town?" "At five the next morning after he had left us," answered he. "And how long is he to be absent?" again enquired "The length "It is later than I thought it-I must bid you good the lady. night!" "O, not yet, Horace!" said Mr. Atkins. "That un"Then you bore your defeat admirably," said Mr. lucky game of chess has engrossed the whole evening. Atkins. "For my part I thought you quite indifferent Come, sit down. Susan will throw aside her book, Auabout it—you appeared so well satisfied after you yield- | gusta will get over her defeat, and we shall have some ed the contest." rational conversation." O, yes, after I had yielded," said she. "The time of trial, you know, is when one fears that they shall be obliged to yield. After all, there is about as much satisfaction in being beaten as in beating; for one cannot help sympathizing with an antagonist who has fought bravely but unsuccessfully." "You will excuse me this evening," said Mr. Chauncey, and uttering a hasty“ good night,” he left the room. He was scarcely conscious of any thing until he had reached his own chamber at his boarding house. Stir ring the decayed embers that lay on the hearth, to make them burn more brightly, he snatched the lately written "I am happy to learn that you so much enjoy being letter from his pocket, and laid it upon them. He watchbeaten," said Miss Leigh, smiling. "You think that I shall soon have that enjoyment again?" said she, "and I shall indeed, unless I pay more attention to the game." For a full hour from this time they made their moves in perfect silence-victory sometimes leaning to one side, sometimes to the other. The two gentlemen were as much interested as the fair antagonists; but they had taken different sides. Atkins' sympathies all being enlisted for Miss Eustace-Chauncey's, of course, for her opponent. Both, however, were too gentlemanly to express their feelings either by word or sign. But at last the game seemed drawing to a close, and again in Miss Leigh's favor, when a skilful move on Miss Eustace's part turned the whole face of the battle. Miss Leigh, however, seemed not aware of it, so intent was she on the manœuvre she had been performing. But Chauncey's heart beat quick, as he saw all her danger; and when she placed her hand upon a piece, to have moved which would have closed her fate at once, his self-command forsook him, and uttering an emphatic "Ah!" he turned suddenly from the table. He could not endure to witness her defeat! Miss Leigh suspended her movement, but she was too much excited to see clearly, and after a momentary pause she made the fatal move. The next instant she saw her error-it was too much—and at that moment, when Mr. Chauncey resumed his post, with a flaming cheek and a flashing eye, she swept her arm across the table, exclaiming ed it as it consumed, until the last particle was reduced to ashes, and then, drawing a long breath, he uttered an emphatic "thank Heaven!" An hour afterwards he rang the bell for a servant, gave some directions, and at five the next morning, and while the stars were yet bright in the heavens, he took a seat in the mail coach, that whirled him rapidly from the scene of his danger. "What has become of Mr. Chauncey?" inquired Mrs. Atkins, the second evening after the decisive game of chess had been played, "He is staying from us much longer than usual, I think.” Miss Leigh looked up with a face of anxious inquiry, as Mr. Atkins replied "Uncertain," answered her husband. of his absence will depend on circumstances. Perhaps we shall not see him again these three months." "This is very singular," remarked Mts. Atkins.— "Does he not say what called him away in such haste, to be gone for so long a period?" "Not a word. The letter seems to have been written in great haste. I have never seen such a scrawl come from beneath Horace's hand. He must have been in great haste." Mr. Atkins then proceeded to open other letters, and nothing further was said of Horace Chauncey, or his abrupt departure. Yet a glance at the faces of the trio of ladies would have told that the subject was not dismissed from their thoughts. Mrs. Atkins, with halfclosed eyes, sat looking at the fire with an air of abstraction which showed that she was endeavoring to unravel the enigma. Miss Leigh's features wore an expression of blank disappointment; and after an unsuccessful attempt to conceal her feelings, she retired to her chamber. The heightened color in Miss Eustace's cheek was the only thing about her that bespoke emotion; but an eye fixed intently on the frill that fell over her bosom, would have seen with what force and rapidity her heart was beating. "Gone!" said Miss Leigh, as she clasped the door of her chamber; "Gone for three months! From meforever! The die is cast!" She wept in bitterness of disappointment and mortification. She had for many days been hourly expecting the offer of his hand-the hand she most strongly wish 'Indeed, I don't know what has become of him. I have not had a sight of him since Tuesday evening,"Perhaps," he added, laughing, "perhaps he died of the fright you, that night, gave him, Augusta." Coloring the deepest crimson, while the tears forced ed to possess. She had felt confident of his attachment, themselves to her eyes, Miss Leigh replied "At least, my hasty temper will frighten all your friends from your house, Mr. Atkins, should its effects not prove any more fatal. O, could my friends know how much my ungovernable temper costs me, they would pity me as much as they blame me." "O, do not talk of it, dear Augusta," said Miss Eustace, taking her hand. Forget it all, as we do-or, if you remember it, remember it only to strive after more self-command for the future. You remember how we admired the sentiment we read yesterday "I will never play another game of chess while I live." "Qui sait se possedor, peut commander au monde." Miss Eustace looked looked up with an expression of "O, yes—but all my efforts at self-possession are useanxiety on her features; Mr. Atkins with one of undis- less," said Miss Leigh. almost sobbing, "I can never guised displeasure; while the countenance of Chauncey remember till it is too late, and then mortification and spoke amazement and consternation. Miss Leigh in- self-upbraiding are my just reward. I would give the stantly left the table and walked toward the fire, follow-world, Abby," she added, as she parted the hair from ed by Miss Eustace. her friend's placid brow, "I would give the world had I "Who is the victor to-night, Abby?" inquired Mrs. your equanimity of temper." Atkins, raising her eye from her book. "Neither," said she in a very soft and low tone; we did not finish the game." "You know better, Miss Eustace," said the other la Well, let us talk no more of it," said Mr. Atkins, "to-morrow I will look after the truant, and learn the cause of his absence." she had told her cousin of her expectations. She had read his affections, his admiration, in his eyes, in every tone of his voice. Had she been deceived? Had he tried to deceive her? O, no-Horace Chauncey was above deceit. He had loved her-but like a fool-or rather like a fury-she had forced him from her! It must have been so-that game of chess had sealed her fate! Such was the train of thought which accompanied her tumultuous and compunctious feelings. Her peace, her happiness, her self-respect were gone, and the most bitter drop in the cup of her sorrow was the full consciousness that she had brought on her own misery-that she deserved her wretchedness. From this period, all enjoyment of her visit at Mr. Atkins' was at an end. She dragged out a week or two, every solitary moment of which was spent in bitter selfupbraiding, and then took an abrupt departure for home. Her young friend would have accompanied her, but to this Mrs. Atkins would not listen a moment. "No, no, Abby," said she, "it must not be. I cannot part with you both at once; and one day must not be taken from the time that your mother allotted for your "He had scarcely done speaking, when a servant visit, unless by providential appointment." "Whom do you suppose I saw alighting from the stage coach just now?" said Mr. Atkins, with much animation, as he came in to tea one evening, about a fortnight after Miss Leigh's departure. "Horace Chauncey?" said she. and after one struggle, he was himself again, restored to the full conviction that one great defect will spoil a character. It was not long, however, before Mr. Chauncey's visits at his friend's house were as frequent as ever, though "Horace Chauncey!" replied her husband, "how the character of his enjoyment was changed. He was came you to think of him?" Because there is no person likely to arrive here that I should be so glad to see," replied she, no longer engrossed by one exciting object, and there was a new quietness breathing about his friend's fireside, that rendered their rich moral and intellectual pleaWell, you are correct in your conjecture," said he, sure truly delightful. Formerly, his visits had all the "It was Horace, and he has promised to look in on us excitement of pleasure; on returning home he had need for a few minutes in the evening. But you need not ed repose; now they had the soothing effect of happilook so much moved, Abby, for I dare say nothing willness, and if he went there weary, he returned home rehappen to drive him away to-night." "There is nothing pleasant in the recollection of the last time I saw him," said she. She blushed, as she was speaking, at the disingenuousness which led her to permit Mr. Atkins to ascribe her emotion to a wrong cause.. She felt as if "L'art la plus innocent, tient de la perfidie." But it was not art-it was nature. The love in a woman's heart likes not to be looked upon, at least not until it may with propriety be expressed. It is a little treasure she has a right to conceal from all eyes. Timidity, delicacy, natural female reserve, are the causes of this concealment, rather than the want of ingenuousIn the most perfect solitude she would blush to clothe in sound the words, 'I love,' though she should constantly be conscious of the fact, constantly have her eye fixed on the beloved object engraven on her heart. The woman who can to a third person speak freely of her love, loves not as woman is capable of loving! ness. As expected, Chauncey came in before the evening was far advanced, and though, on his first appearance, his manners were not quite so calm and collected as usual, his embarrassment soon wore away, and his visit, instead of being one of a few minutes, was lengthened to a couple of hours. "You need no new invitation to favor us with frequent visits," said Mrs. Atkins, "those you formerly received were for life." "Notwithstanding the kindness and delicacy of this remark, he for a time was less frequently to be seen at his friend's than formerly. He was not a pining lover; but he had received a shock from which he could not at once recover. His was not a heart that could long continue to love, after the beloved object had ceased to command his respect. To marry Miss Leigh, to look to her to make his home the abode of peace, serenity and joy, was impossible; and after this full conviction of his judgment, to spend his time in sighing for her loss would be peurile. Yet apart from every selfish consideration, he did mourn that a woman, possessing such qualities as she possessed, and who might be all that the heart or the judgment could require, should be spoiled by the indulgence of one baneful passion. freshed. During several of his earlier visits, Miss Eustace was as silent as she had formerly been; but gradually, her friends were drawing her out, by addressing her, or by asking her opinion; and Mr. Chauncey himself was becoming interested in eliciting her remarks. She did not awaken his admiration as Miss Leigh had done; but he soon became sensible that if what she said was less shining, it was generally better digested; and if she had less wit herself, she more heartily enjoyed the wit of others. If he did not leave her society dazzled by her brilliancy, he found that what she said had called forth thought and reflection; and if her observations had less fire and forte than her friend's, they would bear examination. Her lustre was mild, and not overpowering; and her influence upon the heart and mind, like the dews of a summer evening descending on the flowers-noiseless, gentle and insensible-but invigorating and refreshing. That dreamy recollection too--that strange association of certain expressions of her countenance with a by-gone pleasure, which he had experienced upon their first acquaintance, but which he had lost sight of while engrossed by Miss Leigh, was returning, with increased force, upon him, and awakened a peculiar interest. It was something undefinable, intangible; but still something that gave a throb to the heart whenever it crossed him. Yet so quiet was Miss Eustace's influence, so different the feelings she awakened from those excited by Miss Leigh, that his heart was a captive while he yet suspected not his loss of freedom. One evening, on entering his friend's parlor, he found Miss Eustace alone-Mr. Atkins and his lady having gone out for an hour. She was standing at a window, partially screened from view by the heavy folds of the window curtains. She took no notice of his entrance, supposing it was one of the family; but he immediately joined her, remarking "You seem lost in thought, Miss Eustace. Will you permit me to participate in your reflections ? " "I was looking forth upon the beauties of the evening," said she. It was a glorious night. The moon, clear as a pearl, was riding high in the heavens, and looking down upon the earth, which seemed hushed to perfect peace-and every star that could make itself visible in the presence of the queen of light, was sparkling like a diamond. "It is indeed a night to awaken admiration and to inspire poetry," said the gentleman. Has not the muse yet visited you?" Even at the time when he yielded himself most completely to Miss Leigh's attractions, the contrast between her temper and that of Miss Eustace would force itself upon him. At the moment of the destruction of the pyramid, the feather screen came fully before his memory; and the different expression of the two young ladies' faces when Mr. Atkins ventured to propose some improve- "I believe not," said she. "The influence of such a ment in the mode of wearing their riding-caps, were vi- night as this on my heart is like that of music; I think vidly painted to his imagination. He strove, however, it is feeling, not thought, that it inspires. O, could we to persuade himself that it was unreasonable to expect in communicate feelings without the intervention of words, one person a combination of all the excellent and lovely could we throw them on paper without the mechanical qualities that are divided among the sex, and he endea- drudgery of expressing them, what a volume would they vored to believe that that candor which was so ready to be to read!" She raised her face towards him while acknowledge a fault was more desirable than uniform speaking, beaming with the inspiration of the soul. sweetness of temper. But the veil had been rudely torn "Who is it! what is it that you are perpetually bringfrom his eyes-his sophistry had all been overthrowning athwart my imagination-my memory?" said he, abruptly, "I seem to have had a pre-existence, in which you were known to me." She made no reply. The suddenness of the question made her heart beat tumultuously-painfully; and the intensity of her feelings produced a sensation of faintness; but she supported herself against the windowframe, and her agitation was unnoticed. "I have it! that must be it!" exclaimed Chauncey, after a moment's abstractlon-"Gen. Gardner! Years ago, when quite a boy, I spent a week at his house,— He had a lovely little daughter-her name, too, was Abby-I have neither seen or heard from her since; but she strongly resembled you. The same lovely expression animated her features. Am I not right?" Scarcely able to command voice enough to speak, Miss Eustace replied—" I believe Gen. Gardner never had a daughter." "O, you must be mistaken," said Chauncey, "it has all come as fresh to my memory as the events of yesterday. My father went a long journey, took me with him as far as the General's, and there left me until his return. I was with his lovely little daughter, daily, for about a week, and I well remember asking her, before I came away, if she would not be my wife when she became a woman." "Most true!" thought she, trembling from head to foot, "and you followed the question by a kiss.” "You are acquainted with the general's family," continued he, "and yet you say he never had a daughter! But you must be mistaken. He certainly had one then, if he has one no longer." "I cannot be mistaken, sir," said Miss Eustace, in tones that were scarcely audible," as I have passed much of my time there from infancy." "Then it was yourself," cried Mr. Chauncey, "your own self that I saw there! Am I not right?" Do you remember?" "I do," she had just voice enough to utter. "And did you remember me when we first met here?" inquired Chauncey, with eagerness. "I did." "And why," he cried, "why did you never speak of our former acquaintance? Why could you not kindly recall my early enjoyment of your society?” She could make no answer. She felt as if about to betray her heart's most hidden secret; as if Mr. Chauncey would read her whole soul should she attempt to utter another word. Her trembling limbs could no longer support her, and with an unsteady motion she crossed the room, and scated herself on a sofa. The attachment of Miss Eustace to Mr. Chauncey was rather an instinct than a passion, She was but 8 years old when she met him at Gen. Gardner's, and she had never seen him since until they met at Mr. Atkins', yet the little attentions which he then paid her, which were the very first she had ever received from one of the other sex, and which had a peculiar delicacy for the attentions of a youth of sixteen, made an indelible impression upon her feelings. The strange question that he asked was ever awake in her heart-the kiss he had imprinted ever warm on her cheek! She would have felt it profanation to have had it displaced by one from any other lips. But though she had never since seen, she had very frequently heard of him; and the sound of his name, a name she herself never uttered, was ever music to her ear; and for the ten long years during which they had been separated, his image had filled her whole soul. For Abby Eustace to have loved another, would have been impossible! Her love for Horace Chauncey was a part of her very being! Chauncey did not instantly follow her to the sofa.He wished to look at his heart-to still its emotions ere |