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SUMMER'S LAST LAY,
BY ROSE ACTON.
The wild bird hath told of the bright Summer's birth; She hath come, bringing light to each creature of
Of all I feel for thee;
As firm as endless be :
That from thy brow I stole, Shall ever while I live, my love,
Be dearest to my soul.
That ringlet and that ring, my love,
Are worth a miser's store;
They part not ever more.
With sweet affection full,
My own, my beautiful.
The world we will despise ;
Each other only prize.
And greet me when I come
Let not thy lips be dumb.
So firmly now entwine,
My life is knit to thine.
My life as death would be ;
“For love is life to me." Aug., 1845.
Her glance hath been seeking in loneliest bow'rs
vain. She hath sought but one heart free from anguish or
care, And she finds where dwelt sunshine now bideth
despair. Whence is your dull sorrow? the world is the same : There is still Hope's bright tide, still the pathway to
FameStill the beacon of Faith. Then why bendeth the
heart? Why, amid all its joys, let Contentment depart ? Children! know ye not yet, that 'tis ever alone The true heart hath gladness and peace of its own? Why, know ye not yet, 'tis for you to be gay When the world's tempests rise, when its joys pass
away? "Tis for you, in your path through its deserts, to find Your clear stream within, in a right-thinking mind ? List to her ! There is delight in the smile So radiant now, so long yearned for erewhile, When the hand you have stretched has uplifted
Despair, And o'er it's dark mantle cast Hope's garment fair ! There is joy in remembrance of Gratitude's tear, Of the sunlight you gave to the Wilderness drear. Is't for you, then, to sorrow, when Peace doth but
rest In slumber, awaiting the call to your breast ? Oh! scorn ye its blessing ? deride ye its might To give day to your soul, when around you is night? List to her! for summer is passing away, To cast o'er a far distant realm her bright sway; E'en now is her footstep less light on the green, Already the first trace of Autumn is seen ; Yet leaves she with sorrow- -fain, fain would she
mark The light she could kindle in each bosom dark : She gladly would yield you her last parting sigh, Did ye watch her depart with Hope's glistening eyeAnd would ye do this? Though she passeth away, In your winter-chilled heart let the summer's warmth
stay ; Let it melt the iced current of sympathy there, And the sere things of earth make you look on as fair ; Let it lead you, while basking in bliss of your own, To feel 'tis not bliss, if ye hold it alone. Let it aid you, by binding to yours the cold heart, To make, by your sunshine, its dark clouds depart. Oh! thus 'tis to mark summer pass with a smile, Though each season changed with regretting ere
while; 'Tis thus to view calmly Time's step speed along, And listen in peace to bright Summer's last song. Ye have gathered her gifts, and have scattered again Where e'en Summer's gifts must be yearned for in
vain ; And the blessing upon you is but that bright sun Which, like summer warmth, cheers him whose duty
GO NOT FORTH. (From the German of Frederika Bremer's “ Pre.
BY ALICIA JANE SPARROW.
Go not ! oh! leave me not alone;
Thine eyes' sweet light still let me see ;
Belov'd, ah! go not forth from me.
In golden Paradise once heard,
The image of his God appear'd.
Are gathering round; reach me thine hand. Thou goest! then go-I'll follow thee
E'en to death's o'ershadow'd land!
SENSE AND IN SENSIBILITY.
BY F. E. F.
for it, a woman of more than ordinary intelli
gence.” “ She is certainly a very pretty creature, “That is true,” replied Miss Middleton, Allan ; but,” added Miss Middleton, with some laughing. “They seem to me to marry generally hesitation, “she does not appear to me to have the woman who is nearest to them. Propinquity much mind. To be sure," she continued, “I has more to do with it-nine cases out of tenscarcely know her, and, perhaps, I do her in- than taste. But, notwithstanding such high justice. She
may have more talent than I give authorities, I cannot think a man shows his her credit for."
sense in making such a choice, nor can I think “Not at all,” answered her brother, coolly; that a sensible woman is more apt to be exigeante “she makes no pretension to it, and that is to than a fool, more especially when there is beauty me one of her charms. You women, Fanny, in the case; and to that I never heard the are all so run away with the idea of talent, and wisest of you object." you have no conception how little importance “No," replied Allan, "for nature settles that we men attach to it: for my part, I cannot point. A young beauty may be giddy and vain, imagine a greater bore than one of your clever but the reign being short, she soon turns her women as a wife.”
thoughts and feelings into other channels. But “ How can you say so, Allan,” replied Miss not so with your bel esprit. Time itself cannot Middleton, “when you know that the women sober her; for a really clever and cultivated you have devoted yourself to in society have woman talks better at thirty or forty than she always been those who were distinguished for does at twenty-consequently, is just as eager their intelligence. There were Miss Langley for admiration as a girl. and Mrs. Murray, and I don't know how many, “So,” replied his sister, laughing, "you fall that I really have thought from time to time that in love with beauty because it can't last. Come, you were going to address, you were so attentive come, Allan, don't talk nonsense any longer, to them."
but confess the truth. You are in love with "But I did not, Fanny. It is one thing to Laura Crawford, and really think of marrying talk to a woman, and another to marry her. her?" And that is a distinction that you ladies do “I do," replied Mr. Middleton; "and although not always remember,” replied Mr. Middleton. I do not pretend to deny that I admire her “Your thoughts always jump so instinctively beauty, yet it is not that which would ever have to matrimony, that you seem to think if a man seriously attracted me.” admires a woman he must needs be thinking “And may I then ask what the peculiar charm of marrying her; and you never made a greater is?" inquired Miss Middleton. mistake in your lives. It is really surprising “Yes,” replied her brother; "it is her sweet to see how little the cleverest even of you under- temper and affectionate nature-qualities that stand us."
have an attraction for us that you women are “ It seems so natural,” answered Miss Mid- little aware of. A loving, gentle temper, is dleton, “to suppose that men of talent should worth all the talent in the world.” prefer women who can appreciate them, that it “And if to that you can add a pretty face," is not so surprising that we should fall into the said Miss Middleton, gaily, “I suppose you have mistake, if indeed it be one, as you seem to woman in her perfection. think.”
“Precisely,” returned her brother; “ and “Perhaps it might be as you say,” replied such, I trust, you will find your future sister-inher brother; "but, unfortunately, your clever law.” woman always wants to be appreciated' herself, Miss Middleton said no more--not that she and is much more occupied with her own bril- was satisfied with her brother's choice, but liant sayings than with those of the man she is because she saw it was too late to oppose
it. talking to.
She was a clever woman herself, and had come “You are speaking of admiration and I of of a clever race, and was not inclined to underappreciation,” replied the young lady, with a rate the gifts bestowed upon her name ; and smile.
although she knew that her brother was of a “They mean the same thing, in the sense you hasty and decided temper, yet she could not were using them,” replied Mr. Middleton ; but think that a woman of sense, in appreciating " and that I have the right of the argument his intellect and valuing his acquirements, would experience may show you. Look around you, have been quite as well inclined to bear with his and see whom the distinguished men you know inequalities of disposition as one who could only have married ; not one of them, l'úl answer feel the latter without understanding the former.
The thing, however, was done—the engagement i tion abroad and consequence at home of which proclaimed, and Middleton now talked fully and she had hitherto never dreamed. freely to his sister of his bride elect, and dwelt The sudden transition from “nobody” into much upon the simplicity and naiveté, and “that “somebody" has turned wiser heads than hers, transparency of character,” which, as he said, not to speak of the wedding paraphernalia, were her chief charms. Miss Middleton some- which of itself would have been enough at times smiled and sometimes sighed, as she any time to set her wild with joy; and what listened; for the simplicity which so captivated with flattery and finery, a happier or more him struck her as very closely resembling folly, radiant creature than the youthful bride can and she suspected that so, too, it would have scarcely be imagined. Middleton, amused by struck him had it not been allied to the most trans- the childish raptures and gratified by the perfect parent skin, the bluest eyes, and prettiest little happiness of his little wife, and, perhaps, not rose-bud of a mouth ever seen; and she some less flattered than herself at the sensation she times thought Allan must rouse from his infatua- produced abroad, which, in fact, was but a tion, and see the truth as she saw it. Now, in reflection of his own consequence, was scarcely this she was mistaken—not that her brother was less pleased with his “experiment” than Laura, inclined to overrate Laura's understanding, but and thus the honeymoon glided away to the she suited him the better, perhaps, for the very perfect satisfaction of them both. deficiency that shocked his sister. He had been The wedding festivities having ceased and accustomed to cleverness all his life. His mother spring coming on, the gay season was over, and was clever, and so were his sisters, and, there- Laura once more thrown back upon the quiet of fore, there were a novelty and freshness in the domestic life. naïveté, or folly, whichever it was, of Laura, “You must rejoice that the parties are over, that amused him; and, moreover, the truth Mrs. Middleton," observed Mrs. Harris, a must be told, he had some of the defects often friend of Middleton's; "for I think you must accompanying superiority of intellect—he was be quite worn out with gaiety, and be glad of a arrogant, and fond of having his own way. Now, respite of a little while." he had a feeling that if he married a sensible "No, indeed," answered Laura;
“I never woman, he must treat her as such; but he felt was so happy in my life as during the last three that he could treat Laura just as he pleased. months. And it is so dull now you can't She was “simple and childlike”-in short, just think. Oh, the evenings are so long; it seems the creature he thought “ to love, honour, and as if half-past ten never would come. obey him.”
“Indeed,” said her friend, smiling at the When it was announced that Allan Middleton earnestness with which she spoke. How do was engaged to Laura Crawford, it excited some you occupy yourself? What do you generally surprise and many comments in the gay circle of do of an evening ?” which they were members. Some wondered that "Nothing,” answered Laura. “Mr. Middleso clever a man as Middleton should marry such ton reads, and sometimes I go to sleep in the a little simpleton as Laura; and others thought large chair-but I can't do that always; and her youth and beauty quite an offset to his then I play at solitaire—but as I never can get talents; and all, at any rate, agreed that it was the cards right, I get so tired that you can't a brilliant match for her. To be sure, some imagine how delighted I am to see the supperspoke of his temper as not being of the pleasant- tray come in, for then Allan leaves his books, est, and others said there was a disparity of age and we have a little chat, and after that it is as well as intellects; but then he was rich, and time to go to bed.” she one of a large and not wealthy family, and “Are you not fond of reading ?" inquired that settled the question of all inequalities as
Mrs. Harris. decidedly in her favour. The engagement that “No," answered Mrs. Middleton, with the satisfied society was welcomed with delight by utmost simplicity; "I hate reading; I had the Crawfords. The connection gratified their rather play at solitaire. I want Alan to teach pride as much as it surpassed their expectations. me écarté, but he won't. I think he might
Mrs. Crawford's affection for Laura seemed to don't you?" she said, appealingly. “It is so know no bounds, and even her father treated her dull to play alone.” with unusual respect ; and, indeed, the import- “Well, there is your music,” continued Mrs. ance she suddenly acquired with the whole Harris ; "you have not given that up, I hope ?" family was truly amusing. From being “only “I sing now and then,” she answered. But Laura," she rose at once into being the principal | Mr. Middleton does not care for music," she person in the domestic circle.
added, complainingly; "and there is no pleasure in singing, you know, when nobody is
listening." CHAP. II.
“Do you never sew?" continued Mrs. Harris,
now quite interested and amused by the young Laura had been hitherto but a pretty little wife's details. nobody in society, and merely one of a large “I used to,” she replied; “but now I have family at home; but now, as the young and nothing to sew. I got more of everything when lovely wife of the rich and influential Allan I married than I can ever wear out; and there Middleton, she stepped at once into a considera-is no use, you know, in making anything else.
I wish I did want something," she added, mourn- , little he did gather, his uneasiness and irritation fully," for I like sewing."
were not dispelled. You are well off,” replied Mrs. Harris, “Do leave off that confounded knitting," he laughing, “to be without a want;" but knowing said, presently, somewhat sharply, “and let us at the same time that the want of occupation was have dinner.' the greatest of all wants, she added, good- “You seem hungry,” she said, gaily, as she naturedly, “Suppose I teach you a new knitting rang the bell. “There, is not that pretty?" she stitch that I have just learned, and perhaps it continued, as she held up her work for his admay amuse you to knit a purse for your hus- miration. band?"
“ What do I know about such nonsense?" “Oh, thank you,” exclaimed Laura, with real he replied, putting aside her hand rather rudely.
!” Ring again."
produced and the ladies were soon deep in the mysteries said Laura, looking up surprised. “How cross of putting twos into ones, and ones into twos ; you are !" and Laura's tones were as earnest and as eager Middleton felt that he was, and had the grace as if she were really engaged in a matter of to be ashamed of his temper; and, making an great importance.
effort, he answered, “Don't you know that “Oh, thank you,” she again repeated, as hungry men are always cross, love? Show me she continued her lesson; " this is charming! your purse after dinner, and then you will find Now Allan may read aloud as much as he that I can appreciate it. Come, tell me what pleases."
you have been about all the morning.” And “ Is Mr. Middleton fond of reading loud ?” | before Laura had finished the history of her inquired Mrs. Harris with a smile.
visitors and their gossip, dinner was announced, “Yes, I believe he is,” replied Laura, re- and the cloud dispelled. suming her knitting; “ that is, last night he When they returned to the drawing-room, and proposed reading to me, and then he got quite coffee had been dismissed, Laura took out her angry because I yawned. But I could not help needles, and settling herself at the table, said, it; I was so tired. Hamlet is enough to make “Suppose you read to me, Allan?" any body yawn-is it not? There, that is right- His countenance lighted up with surprise and now two, and then four again ;” and Hamlet and pleasure, as he said, “ Certainly, if you wish it. Mr. Middleton were both quickly forgotten in What shall I read ?”
"Anything you like,” she answered. “You As Mrs. Harris left the house she could not may as well finish Hamlet." And the book but smile as she remembered the many con- being produced, a prettier domestic tableau versations she had had with Middleton, with could scarcely be conceived than that of the whom she had been intimate many years, on the graceful young wife, her delicate fingers rapidly subject of marriage and all his requirements in a weaving her brilliant coloured silks, as with an wife, and to see what they had all ended in earnest and interested countenance she apamused her at the moment excessively; and her parently listened to her husband reading. mind fully occupied with the subject, the first “Pshaw!” said Laura, presently. person she came upon in turning the corner was Middleton himself. They both stopped, and she,
“What is the matter?” inquired Middleton. conscious of the train of thought just passing
“I have dropped a stitch. No matter-80 through her brain, looked both amused and em- on,” she replied. barrassed as she said, with some little hesitation, He looked annoyed, but after a moment's “I have just been sitting an hour with your pause, resumed his reading. Nothing occurring pretty little wise, Mr. Middleton. She has pro- to interrupt him again, all went on harmoniously mised to come in and see me of an evening. until
, happening to call her attention to some I wish you would bring her soon."
point in the drama, to which Laura made no Middleton coloured, for he knew Mrs. Harris reply, he raised his eyes from his book, and well, and a téte-à-tête between Laura and his repeated his observation. She continued, howquick-witted but not very merciful friend was ever, perfectly silent for a minute or two, and not just the thing that he would have chosen; then, looking up, said, “What did you say?" but he could only profess himself most anxious • Why, what is the matter with your” he to secure his wife the society and friendship of asked, rather impatiently. “Did you not hear Mrs. Harris, and promise to do his share towards me at first ?" promoting an intimacy so kindly invited by his “Yes,” she replied; “but I was counting-I old friend; and Middleton walked home under don't know what you said.” an unpleasant consciousness of he did not ex- Counting?” he exclaimed. actly know what. He found his wife just where "Yes,” she continued; “I am obliged to Mrs. Harris had left her, knitting for dear life. count every third row of this knitting to make He asked some questions relative to Mrs. Harris's the pattern." visit, but Laura-never very clear or graphic in “And why, in the name of common sense, did her details-was now quite too much absorbed you ask me to read to you?” he inquired sharply
. in her work to give any very satisfactory account “You surely cannot count and listen at the same of what interested him so much; and from the time,”
"I thought you liked to read," she answered, neglected altogether doing what she should do calmly; "and'I would just as lief."
until the proper moment was past." "No, certainly," he answered, angrily; "I Middleton, on the contrary, was punctuality shall not read if you are not listening. I can itself, and punctual people are seldom patient. have no pleasure in reading aloud to myself.”. His parting words had scarcely died upon
"Well, don't, if you do not want to," she Laura's ear before they had passed from her replied, quietly; “I am sure I do not care mind, and she was busily engaged tending her about it."
birds and inspecting her plants. While she Middleton dashed the book from him, as he was still so occupied, the servant announced the muttered something that sounded like "fool” or carriage. “ folly ;” but what the words were Laura did “I did not order it until one,” she replied. not distinguish, and rising, he took a light, and “ Tell the coachman he is too early." walked off to the library.
“ It has just struck one, ma'am," replied the “Why, what is the matter with the man?” man. thought Mrs. Middleton, as she looked upamazed. “ Is it possible !” she exclaimed. “I had no “I am sure I have done nothing to vex him. idea it was so late. Well, tell him to return in If he is angry, I can't help it;' and she con- an hour ;” and after dawdling a little longer tinued steadily working until supper was an- over her flowers, she went up to dress. Always nounced, when her husband once more joined dilatory in her motions, the carriage was again her in the drawing-room. The cloud still hung at the door before she was ready. Half an hour upon his brow, and his tones were sharp and more elapsed. She was going to pay a bridal quick; but his wife received him with such a visit, and that, with one or two errands, contotal oblivion of his vexation, that he was at a sumed the rest of the morning. She returned loss how to display his dissatisfaction. After quite late and somewhat fatigued, and going to some time, however, he began, with a voice of her dressing-room, put on a wrapper, and taking suppressed temper—"I wish, Laura, when I a novel, threw herself on a sofa to repose and read to you of an evening
refresh herself before she began her toilette for “Now, pray, Allan, don't talk any more about Mrs. Harris's. Being a little tired and a little it," interrupted Laura, playfully putting her amused, she “lay, taking her rest” very comlittle hand over his mouth. " You shall not fortably, quite forgetful of every thing but her read that horrid Hamlet again, for somehow it book and the sofa, when, suddenly she heard always puts you in a passion;" and then she her husband's step, and the next moment the began with such genuine good temper to talk door opened, and he entered the dressing-room. of other things, that Middleton, who was a man • Why, Laura,” he exclaimed, “this is too of sense, saw the futility of saying more. bad ! It is half-after-five now," taking out his
“Half-after-five !" she repeated, starting from CHAP. III.
the sofa. “Oh, it can't be! Impossible !"
Look,” he replied, holding the watch sternly “Remember, Laura,” said Mr. Middleton, a before her. few days after the above-mentioned occurrence, “Well,” she answered, “go down stairs, and “ that we dine to-day at Mrs. Harris's, and pray I will be ready in ten minutes. It never takes be ready in time. I was mortified and ashamed me long to dress.” the last time we dined there, to find we had Now this is a delusion all unpunctual people kept every body waiting full half-an-hour. labour under. They always imagine their expeThere is nothing so ill-bred as want of punc- dition makes up for their want of exactness, and tuality; and you, I am sorry to say, are never that they will be ready in ten minutes if you ready. If you would only begin half-an-hour will only be patient. earlier
Charging her to be quick, Middleton knew “Well, I will,” interrupted Laura ; "so don't the only course was to leave her to her maid, scold.”
and he descended to the drawing-room. At the “I am not scolding,” replied Middleton, expiration of ten minutes, he despatched a sersomewhat sharply.
vant to Laura, desiring her to hurry, as the “ It sounds very like it, nevertheless,” replied | carriage would be at the door presently. Never Laura, gaily.
prompt in her movements, and being now flur“ I only beg,” he answered, dryly, “ that you ried with the messages that came from her will be ready to-day. The carriage will be at husband every five minutes, Laura dressed as the door precisely at six.”
one dresses in a dream, forgetting where she “Very well,” said Laura; and her husband put her things as she laid them down, and taking took his hat. and went off for the morning. twice as long in her hurry as she would have
Laura was one of those persons who seem to done had Middleton had the sense to leave her have no idea of time. There are those with alone. She had not yet put on her frock, when whom it seems absolutely a constitutional defect, she heard her husband's voice in the hall, and Laura was one of them.
saying—“Tell Mrs. Middleton to come down She seldom began to dress until the carriage just as she is. The carriage has been waiting came to the door, always forgot her notes and some time.” orders until the last moment, and frequently Flurried and half-dressed-for she was still