Imágenes de páginas

solation, and they felt towards him something, devotion; but her right hand was clasped in of that tenderness which we feel for the dead, that of Harry Blake, who, sanctioned by parenwhen vice is recollected with compassion rather tal authority, had sought and received her wedthan hatred, and scorn melts into forgiveness. ded vows. Kate refused for a long time to Warmed by a common impulse, they contributed assume the sacred duties of a wife, conscious of munificently, and made immediate preparations her impaired usefulness; but Harry pleaded for the erection of a new building on the site of most eloquently, and Harry's father declared the old. Mr. Franklin, who was aware of their that he considered the cause of her dependence movements, entered the hall before they sepa- as a mark of glory and honour. He had forrated. It had been long since he had inet his bidden his son to claim alliance with a degraded former friends, associated in such a respectable name; but Kate had proved, during her sojourn body; and a few days before, he would have in his dwelling, that a daughter's virtues could shrunk from their glances, conscious of his de- redeem a father's shame. Kate soon learned to graded condition. Now, strengthened by a be reconciled to a misfortune which only ensolemn resolution, he came among them, and deared her the more to the hearts of her friends, standing in their midst, he begged permission She forgot to mourn over her physical dependto address them a few moments. He began ence, in a father's and husband's devoted love. with the history of his boyhood, and told them But though dependent, she was not passive, his parentage, his flight, his temptation, his per- She shared in all their intellectual pursuits, read jury and guilt. His voice was at first faltering, for them, wrote for them, when weary from but as he proceeded it recovered much of its professional toils; and all that her right hand foriner richness of tone, and when he painted found to do," she did diligently and in order," his remorse and despair, his solemn resolutions She was their inspiring companion, their modest of amendinent, and his trust in Almighty God counsellor, their spiritual friend. for strength to fulfil them, his eloquence rose to

There was one more figure added to this the most thrilling sublimity.

domestic scene. A fair-haired child sat on Mr. For myself

said he conclusion, “I Franklin's knee, and twisted her chubby fingers would have asked nothing-hoped nothing. I in his still raven hair. It was the child once would have buried in the deepest solitude the cradled on the snowy bed, whose blooming memory of my shame.

But I have children—a cheeks and bright lips corresponded more with daughter worthy of a better fate. For her sake the rose-bud than the snow-drop, the pet name I solicit the restoration of that confidence I have she bore. so justly forfeited, the birthright I have so shamefully sold. Low as I have sunk, I feel

Let no man say, when he is tempted, “ I am by the effort I have this moment made, that the the power of the tempter, that, like the giant

tempted of God!” or having once yielded to in-dwelling Deity has not yet quite forsaken this slumbering in the lap of Delilah, he cannot polluted temple. I am still capable of being break the green withes with which his passions inaster of myself, and with God's help I will so have bound him, and find in after years the be. I ask not for the hands of fellowship; and shorn locks of his glory clustering once more friendship I want not till time shall have

around his brow. proved the sincerity of my reformation, and purified from the defilement of the drunkard's name.”

Here every hand was simultaneously extended, in token of reviving confidence. Some grasped ANSWER TO X. Y. Zi's CHARADE. his, in silence and tears—others fervently bid him God-speed, and promised him encourage- There's a stir in yon valley; the war-charger's ment, sympathy, and patronage.

neigh The introduction of a household scene-more And the clang of the trumpet salute the new day; than a twelvemonth after this—will close the And a group of retainers, in martial array, history of The Drunkard's Daughter. Mr. There 'wait their young leader to mount and away. Franklin was seated at his own fireside, reading; The sun is scarce up, yet fair eyes are awake, and when he raised his clear, dark eye from the And fair eyes are weeping for somebody's sake; book, and cast it on the domestic group at his And many fair dames and fond partings, I ween, side, you could read in his untroubled glance In the castle's wide portal that morning were seen. quietude, self-respect, and confidence. The red And there, in the midst doth the loveliest stand, ignet of intemperance being removed from his And a cup of chased silver she holds in her hand; noble brow, every look bore witness to his intel- And she pours forth the red wine, till filled to the

brim ectual and moral regeneration. Kate sat near him Is the goblet, and then she presents it to him— -she who, in the hands of God, had been made Her chosen - and bids him, when far, far away, he instrument of his salvation-bearing on her Remember the stirrup-cup parting that day. Youthful and lovely person a sad memento of He quaffs the bright draught, then bends to her father's sin. Iher left hand lay useless in ner lap; its sinews had been contracted by the And many a fond vow the maiden doth hear : fires she smothered when snatching her mother One kiss on the hand that will soon be his ownfrom the flames, and she was destined to carry He springs to the saddle-the brave band is flown! through life a witness of filial heroism and

S. J. G, R

her ear,




The visurer bent o'er his chest with care,

And drew forth, in anxious haste,
The title-deeds of a gay young heir

Who was spending his all in waste ;
He counted forth gold-he deemed the bait
Might purchase the prodigal's fair estate-
And resolved to speed to his stately hall,
When my First threw around her sable pall.
The way was dreary, and rough, and long,

And tempestuous blew the blast;
But my Second was active, swift, and strong,

And the hall was gained at last :
There, gamesters thronged round their lavish host-
All his ready coin at one stake was lost;
The usurer smiled-he proffered his gold-
And the young heir's last fair lands were sold.
The usurer sisnks on his bed of down-

Does he peaceful rest obtain ?
No! threatening faces around him frown,

And he closes his eyes in vain ;
For his limbs are fetter'd by burdens fell,
And his terrible moans and murmurs tell
That he, who perils by fraud his soul,
Will always be troubled by my Whole.

'Neath a blue and cloudless heaven,

A glorious summer sun ;
'Neath the calm and golden even,

When an autumn day is done ;
Or when, with dark clouds gathering,

The thunder-storm draws near-
Still art thou fairest of the fair,

Beloved Windermere !
Thou art lovely in thy wildest

As in thy calmest hour,
With thy spring-tide's smiling softness,

With thy storm-awakened power ; Through the bright day until even,

Through the dark night until mornWhen day is sadly dying,

Or when day is proudly born : When from the rugged mountains,

Whose crown is on thy brow, The swollen torrents war and rush

To the flooded vales below; Or when the same red torrent

Shrunk to its summer bed, Down lofty Langdale's sunlit sides

Shines like a silver thread : When o'er the dancing billows

The white-winged boats shoot by, And the shadows from the fleeting clouds

O'er the tossing waters fiy; And the graceful larches bow their heads

To meet the rising breeze, Whose thousand voices sing aloud

Mid the forest's stately trees : Or when, all calm and glassy,

Thy moveless breast is given To mirror forth thy parent hills

And the quiet deep-blue heaven ;
And thy hundred echoes only wake

To the heron's lonely cry,
Or to the music of thy streams

Give back their faint reply:
When from bebind thy wooded fells

Rises the Queen of Night,
Marking the rowers' homeward track

In lines of broken light;
Or when, all chill and desolate,

In winter's drearier hour,
Darkness is on thy clouded face

And the storm's unbroken power.
Oh! lovely in thy softness,

And lovely in thy pride,
There is nought to match thy beauty

In all the world beside!
And we, the children of thy soil-

Though other lands our lot
We sing to thee this humble song,

For we forget thee not!

(Or, an expostulation with Time.)

Time! wilt thou spoil, indeed, each beauty's trace,

Nor spare one charm this fading form to deck? And wilt thou pale the warm blush from my face,

And leave me only beauty's shattered wreck ?
Must all the loveliness, now mirrored here,

Die like the sunshine of a summer's day,
Or, like the night's bright glistening dewy tear,

Fade at the dawning of an early ray?--
Must all my charms so soon, soon pass away?

Time, linger! stay!
Another year let all my beauties shine

A month! a day!
And at its death then will I yield them. Thine

Shall be the form so bright, so young, so fair ;

Say, wilt thou linger now, and, pitying, spare ? Still thou dost fly on, on, upon thy course, More swiftly than the fable-winged horse

Riding the minutes by.
Then grant me this, and still I yield me thine-
Increase my beauties, make them all divine ;

Let each one, glowing, vie
With Venus' charms, Aurora's rosy hue,
Europa's beauty-all that ever knew
A gifted form that to perfection grew.
'Tis but to multiply my beauty's grace,
And gentle smiles that deck a mortal's face.
Time, time! I pray thee, with uplifted arms,
Spare me the blighting of these glowing charnus !
I sink exhausted-Ha! a mighty sound
Makes the air tremble as it echoes round.
Again I gaze into my mirror-there
I trace the answer to my urgent prayer:

A hundred times is multiplied my brow, My lips, my cheek, the lustre of my eye!

All, all, a hundred times more raptured now. Surely such charms with age can never die! I thank thee, Time, my prayer is come to passBUT, BLESS ME! SUSAN, I HAVE SMASHED THE


And, bright as were the moments

That were our own with thee,
Fondly we trust that happier hours

Our portion yet may be
When, with our home upon thy banks,

Our bark upon thy breast,
Thy voice shall chase our morning dreams,

Shall soothe our nightly rest!


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THE RHINE; Its SCENERY AND Histo- —the city of Cologne : but his thoughts were RICAL AND LEGENDARY Associations. By troubled, and his heart was heavy; for though his Frederick Knight Hunt. (How.)— It may be a churches were rich beyond compare in relics, yet positive truth that long before the author of the other towns not half so large or powerful as his had present clever work set about his task, there was

cathedrals whose fame extended over Europe, and little that was new to be said of the Rhine. whose beauty brought pilgrims to their shrine, profit

to the ecclesiastics, and business to the townspeople. Every body had read Byron’s glorious stanzas, After many sleepless nights, therefore, he determined and the poetical and pathetic tales of Bulwer's to add to his city the only thing wanting to complete

Pilgrims.” A few had followed, in thought, it, and sending for the most famous architect of the Victor Hugo's “ Excursions ;” and German time, he commissioned him to complete the plan for history had been made “easy reading" by nu- a Cathedral of Cologne. merous semi-historical romances, and popular “ Now the architect was a clever man, but he was stories and ballads. Tourists who enter into an more vain than clever. He had a dreamy notion of amicable race with each other, and boast of the magnificence, which he desired to achieve without a hundreds of miles they have traversed in as

clear conception of how he was to do it, or without many days, talk of the castled crag of Dra- the will to make the necessary sacrifices of labour, chenfels” as a thing familiar to them, if they with great gladness, and gloated for some days upon

perseverance. He received the commission be cockneys, as the dome of St. Paul's. Never- the fame which would be his as the builder of the theless, we suspect there is a dreamy indistinct- structure which the Archbishop desired; but after ness in the minds of not a few about all that is this vision of glory, when he took his crayons to connected with this famous river; vague notions sketch out the design, he was thrown into the deepest of beautiful scenery and ancient ruins blend despondency. He drew and drew, and added, and with traditions of ruthless robbers, each mind erased, and corrected, and began again, but having its own peculiar ideal of feudal times, still did not succeed. Not a plan could he comwhile German wines and fast steam-boats are a plete. Some

others too expresent reality not to be lost sight of. Now this travagant; and others, when done and examined, beautifully illustrated Rhine Book, at once hand

were found to be good, but not original. Efforts of some enough for the drawing-room table, and memory instead of imagination, their points of excel

lence were discovered to be copies—a tower from portable enough for a travelling guide, combines

one, a spire from another, an aisle from a third, and in a most succinct and pleasing manner all that an altar from a fourth, and one after another they the intelligent tourist would most delight to were cast aside as imperfect and useless, until the know. Interchapters in small type are given, draughtsman, more than half crazy, felt inclined to to which maps (on the page) of the chief cities end his troubles and perplexities by a plunge into the are appended, by the aid of which the stranger ' Rhine. in Brussels, Liege, Antwerp, &c., would be able

“ In this mood of more than half despair he wanto find his way to the different objects of dered down to the river's edge, and sitting himself curiosity there indicated. Hotels are mentioned, upon a stone began to draw in the sand with a meaand some hints to save the pocket afforded; lines of various parts of a church. Ground-plans,

suring-rod, which served as a walking-stick, the out. while the more graceful portions of the work, towers, finials, brackets, windows, columns, aphistorical reminiscences and traditional lore, peared one after another, traced by the point of his which make up the mysterious charm we call wand; but all, one after another, were erased as une association," and lend so great an interest to equal and insufficient for the purpose, and unworthy celebrated places, are executed with a taste and to form a part of the design for a Cathedral of Codiscretion that belong only to a high order of logne. Turning round, the architect was aware that talent. We must find space for the follo another person was beside him, and with surprise the supernatural story; to our mind there is a deep disappointed draughtsman saw that the stranger was meaning and a stern moral in the words,


also busily inventing a design. Rapidly on the sand finished and forgotten,” which might apply to

he sketched the details of a most magnificent buildmany a work of genius. What are the works ing, its towers rising to the clouds, its long aisles and of genius, when compared to its aspiring un

lofty choir stretching away before the eye of the

gazer until he mentally confessed it was indeed a embodied dreams?

temple worthy of the Most High. The windows “No stranger ever enters Cologne without going were enriched by tracery such as artist never had to see the Cathedral, and nobody ever looks upon before conceived, and the lofty columns reared their that fragment of the mightiest Gothic design in tall length towards a roof which seemed to claim Christendom without doing three things-without kindred with the clouds, and to equal the firmament regretting that it never was completed, without in expanse and beauty. But each line of this longasking who was the architect, or without listening to sought plan vanished the moment it was seen ; and the LEGEND OF THE BUILDER.

with a complete conviction of its excellence, when it “ Mighty was the Archbishop Conrad de Hochste. I was gone not a portion of it could the architect re. den, for he was lord over the chief city of the Rhine member.

"• Your sketch is excellent,' said he to the un. “ • And would it be equal to all this? known: it is what I have thought and dreamed of " It would.' —what I have sought for and wished for, and have "Could you build it?' not been able to find. Give it to me on paper, and

"* I could.' I will pay you twenty gold pieces.'

" "Would not pilgrims come to worship in such a "Twenty pieces ! ha! ha! twenty gold pieces !' cathedral ?' laughed the stranger. •Look here !' and from a “* By thousands.' doublet that did not seem big enough to hold half Listen, my son! Go at midnight to the ap. the money, he drew forth a purse that certainly held pointed spot; take this relic with you;' and so say. a thousand.

ing, the

abbot gave him a holy morsel of one of the “ The night had closed in, and the architect was Eleven Thousand Virgins. Agree to the terms for desperate. If money cannot tempt you, fear shall the design you have so long desired, and when you force you ;' and, springing towards the stranger, he have got it, and the Evil One presents the parchment plucked a dagger from his girdle, and held its point for your signature, show this sacred bone.' close to the breast of the mysterious draughtsman, in After long pondering, the priest's advice was the attitude to strike. In a moment his wrists were taken ; and in the gloom of night the architect was pinioned as with the grasp of a vice, and squeezed seen tremblingly hurrying to the place of meeting until he dropped his weapon, and shrieked in agony. True to his time, the fiend was there, and with a Falling in the sands, he writhed like an eеl upon the smile complimented the artist on his punctuality

. fisherman's hook, but plunged and struggled in vain. Drawing from his doublet two parchments, he When nearly fainting, he felt himself thrown helpless opened one on which was traced the outlines of the upon the very brink of the stream.

cathedral, and then another written in some myste. " . There! revive, and be reasonable. Learn that rious character, and having a yellow brimstong space gold and steel have no power over me. You want left for a signature. my cathedral ; for it would bring you honour, fame, “Let me examine what I am to pay so dearly and profit; and you can have it if you choose.' for.' " How ?-tell me how ?'

Most certainly,' said the demon, with a smile, "By signing this parchment with your blood.' and a bow that would have done honour to the court

" • Avaunt, fiend ! shrieked the architect ; ' in of the Emperor. the name of the Saviour I bid thee begone!' And · Pressing it with one hand to his breast, the archi. so saying, he made the sign of the Cross; and the tect with the other held up the holy thumb-bone, and Evil One (for was he) was forced to vanish before exclaimed, - Avaunt, fiend! In the name of the the holy symbol. He made time, however, to mut. Father, and the Son, and the Holy Virgins of Coter, You'll come for the plan at midnight to logne, I bid thee, Satan, at defiance ;' and he de. morrow.'

scribed the sign of the Cross directly against the “ The artist staggered home, half dead with con- Devil's face. tending passions ; and mutttering, Sell my soul,' “In an instant the smile and the graceful civility

to-morrow at midnight,' 'honour and fame,' and were gone. With a hideous grin he approached the other words which told the inward struggle going sacred miracle as though he would have strangled the forward in his soul. When he reached his lodgings, possessor ; and yelling with a sound that woke balf he met the only servant he had, going out wrapped the sleepers in Cologne, he skipped round and round in her cloak.

the artist. Still, however, the plan was held tightly " . And where are you going so late?” said her with one hand, and the relic held forward like a surprised master.

swordsman's rapier with the other. As the fiend 1. • To a mass, for a soul in purgatory,' was the turned, so turned the architect; until, bethinking reply.

himself that another prayer would help him, he called ** Oh, horror! horror! no mass will avail me. loudly on St. Ursula. The demon could stand the To everlasting torments shall I be doomed!' and, fight no longer ; the chief of the Eleven Thousand hurrying to his room, he cast himself down in tears Virgins was too much for him. of remorse, irresolution, and despair. In this state None but a confessor could have told you how his old housekeeper discovered him, on her return to cheat me,' he shrieked in a most cynical voice : from her holy errand ; and, her soul being full of but I will be revenged. You have a more wonder. charity and kindly religion, she begged to know what ful and perfect design than ever entered the brain of had caused such grief ; and spoke of patience in suf- man. You want fame-the priest wants a church and fering, and pardon by repentance. Her words fell pilgrims. Listen ! That CATHEDRAL SHALL NEVER upon the disordered ear of the architect with a

BE FINISHED, AND YOUR NAME SHALL BE FOR. heavenly comfort, and he told her what had passed. GOTTEN !'

"Mercy me!' was her exclamation. Tempted “As the dreadful words broke upon his ear the by the fiend himself !—so strongly, too!' and so cloak of the Tempter stretched out into huge black saying, she left the chamber without another word, wings, which were flapped over the spot like two and hurried off to her confessor.

dark thunder-clouds, and with such violence that the "Now the confessor of Dame Elfrida was the friend winds were raised from their slumber, and a storm of the abbot, and the abbot was the constant coun- rose upon the waters of the Rhine. Hurrying homesellor of the Archbishop, and so soon as the house-wards, the relic raised at arm's length over his head, keeper spoke of the wonderful plan, he told her he he reached the abbot's house in safety: but the would soon see her master, and went at once to his ominous sentence still rang in his ears—UNFINISHED superior. This dignitary immediately pictured to AND UNKNOWX! himself the hosts of pilgrims that would seek a cathe- Days, months, years passed by, and the cathedral built with skill from such wonderful sketches, dral, commenced with vigour, was growing into form. and (hoping himself one day to be archbishop) he The architect had long before determined that an inhurried off to the bewildered architect.

scription should be engraved upon a plate of brass " He found him still in bed, and listened with sur-shaped like a cross, and be fastened upon the front prise to the glowing account of the demon's plan, of the first tower that reached a good elevation. His


vanity already anticipated a triumph over the Fiend supported by the wealth and beneficence of the whom he had defrauded. He was author of a build- great; but they mostly serve, and are instituted ing which the world could not equal, and in the pride expressly for the relief of the very poor. Nothing of his heart defied all evil chances to deprive him of is more correct, more praiseworthy and honourfame. Going to the top of the building to see where able to any man or woman, than a sympathy his name should be placed, he looked over the edge of the building, to decide if it was lofty enough to with the wretched and distressed ; such symdeserve the honour of the inscription, when the work. pathy is, and necessarily must be, the offspring men were aware of a black cloud which suddenly en- of a good heart; nothing more correct than that veloped them, and burst in thunder and hail. Look- such feelings should be indulged; yet the great ing round when the cloud passed away, their master -those gifted with riches—in their benefiting was gone! and one of them declared, that amidst the the poor, forget, or never contemplate that there noise of the explosion he heard a wail of agony, which is an intermediate class, too proud to beg, their seemed to say, "UNFINISHED AND FORGOTTEN !' talents raising them above abject poverty, to

“When they descended the tower, the body of the architect lay crushed upon the pavement. The tra- authoress speak in her own words :

one no less harassing and painful. Best let the veller bebolds the building as it was on the morning when he fell there, and thousands have since then “The Countess appointed ten o'clock the next sought in vain to learn the name of The Architect of morning to give her first sitting, and Arundel deCologne.

parted as happy as though he had just been crowned

king of the united kingdoms of Great Britain and The name of the publisher is alone an earnest Ireland. With a light and joyous step be turned toof the superior manner in which this tasteful wards his home. Scarce could he refrain from acvolume is, to use a common phrase, got up.” celerating his pace into a run, so much did his heart The wood engravings are of the very highest yearn to gladden that of his affectionate parent with order of this beautiful and popular branch the tidings of his good fortune. Oh, ye favoured of art.

ones of the earth, you who, cushioned in down, clad

in soft raiment, fed by the pampering hand of luxury, REMINISCENCES OF THE CORONATION,

lulled to rest by the dulcet sounds of harmony, could AND OTHER HISTORICAL Tales, by Mrs. little tithe from the vast sums you daily squander on

but once feel the joy, the unspeakable joy, one Lane. (C. T. Moon.)— The combination of fact some foolish bauble would confer, were it bestowedand fiction is rarely so well developed as in the not on the beggar in the streets—there is another charming work before us, where the startling class, who feel the griping hand of poverty with tenpicture of the real scene is blended with the no fold, ay, tenfold bitterness-not, I say, on the begless sterling one of the imagination, in such a gar, but on some pining artist--some neglected poet manner as to carry the reader on without once -some ruined family; could you, I repeat it, but allowing the idea to cross his mind that, though once feel the joy which that pitiful sum would give really so admirably woven together, they are them, you would no longer deny yourselves the entirely distinct the one from the other. It is a greatest of all luxuries—the luxury of doing good !"' fault with by far the greater number of works The discovery to Arundel by his mother, that of the class under notice, that the “ creatures the Count de Noirmont is his father, abounds of the brain” unite with the people and times of with great sweetness, and at the same time reality, much in the same manner as a scarlet vigour and intense feeling. The Count de Noirpatch would in the centre of a black cloak. mont has befriended and patronized Arundel, They are detached though connected, and so ignorant of his being his child, and heir to his widely do they differ that the “ mind's eye” estates and fortune. He has given him commay draw a line between the two at a first missions in his art, and the Countess, his wife, glance. Not so with the “ Reminiscences of sits to the aspiring .artist for her portrait. Forthe Coronation.” The poor widow and her son, merly the Count de Noirmont was an officer in though poor in almost the extreme sense of the the French army, and engaged in the terrific word, mingle well with the aristocratic charac- struggle of Waterloo ; being wounded, the ters introduced, and the author has with judg- father of Catherine (the widow of the tale) ment connected them, by infusing into her less brought the young officer to his own home, exalted characters an aristocracy in mind, and a where both the father and stranger were nursed nobility of feeling and conduct, which at once for the injuries they had received during the bring them to a level with the more wealthy battle :and the titled of the tale—and in a manner " • During the two succeeding months my time that in the reader's picturing of the scene, was fully occupied in tending the invalids, for my leaves no disparagement, no vacancy that the father's wounds were more severe than he at first most fastidious of plot-constructors would wish believed, and indeed finally caused his death. He to see filled up. Mrs. Lane has evidently writ- was, however, the first to recover; and, sooner than ten this tale with a view to expose that too pre- military business, as well as to arrange some little

I thought prudent, he repaired to London upon vailing and false idea of charity, that is clung to matters there, previous to his finally settling at Bruswith such obstinate tenacity by the rich and sels. Louis 'de St. Germain's, your father Arunpowerful, and the influential of the nation.

delThat charity which developes itself the vain

“ Arundel started, and with a movement of unglorious subscriptions to the numberless insti- controllable surprise repeated, ‘Louis de St. Gertutions of England; such institutions doubtless main's?' are worthy of the highest praise, and of being “ His mother took no heed of the interruption.

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