at length she fell into the state of submission described, abstracted herself from the world, and actually retired to a cloister. After this account of life's uncertainty, the padre further informed me that he had a comrade on whom a fond mother had fixed her very soul: he enjoyed all possible courtfavour, was early placed in the army, distinguished himself there, was betrothed to one of the noblest ladies at the court, and just at the conclusion of the war was killed in the last battle his mother died of grief-his intended was inconsolable.

"These," said the friar, "are amongst the many occurrences in a worldly career which tend to disgust one with it, not to mention the perfidy and duplicity of courts, the treachery and fickleness of princes and potentates, nobles and other men in power, which have largely been felt amongst my relatives the brave betrayed and disgraced, the base and intriguing advanced to honour, emolument, and power. For some years," said he, previous to my assuming this habit, I was quite estranged from the world, in which my last act was the only one with which I feel perfectly satisfied. My cousin, a handsome cavalier of high merit, was attached to a young lady of quality, but his want of for tune caused him to be rejected; whilst age and decrepitude, gilded over with decorations, and backed by a fortune, were presented to the half-frantic and disappointed Marie Terese. I stepped in here, and by making over certain property to my relative, prevented an act of paternal violence and injustice, and secured the happiness of the young couple. Secured, did I say? alas! how uncertain is that-how doubtful is it that, living in the contagious air of splendid folly and triumphant vice, each of these then happy lovers should

preserve to the end their virtue, truth, and mutual esteem." Here he shook his head, and, presenting his snuff-box to me, thus concluded:—“I think that I need not proceed further in my history; you will draw your own conclusion; I have already occupied too much of your time without repaying you for the sacrifice, and the day declines, whilst I am greatly in arrear to my breviary; I will away to the oratory, whilst you take a walk in the alley of orange trees; you may there perceive Father Clement, whose story is very different." Thus saying, he bowed gracefully, took part of a pinch of snuff, and giving the remainder to the wind, pointed to the dispersed grains, first agitated for awhile, and then cast on the earth: he uttered gently, yet emphatically, “Cosi e la vita umana,”—(such is human life!) a very short, yet impressive and comprehensive homily.

Need I make any reflections on the above story? no. On the motives which consigned the self-exiled (at least such from the intercourse of the world and its population,) nobleman? no. The cause of his retreat and election of the monastic life is clear: he could not, in that world, find the seclusion nor opportunity for meditation which was here afforded him; not so, perhaps, with the female victim, who, had she possessed courage enough to sojourn in a more active scene, might have exercised more active virtues, and performed more extensive good; perhaps the scorn of rivals, the reflection of past conquests, the humiliation of changed circumstance, were too much for her; but does she, in her self-seclusion, not "cast one longing, lingering look behind?" We know not.

(To be continued.)

THE lady whose Portrait embellishes this number is the third daughter of the late Colonel Stephen Fremantle, who married Albinia, daughter of James St. John Jefferyes, of Blarney Castle, County Cork, Esq. by

Arabella, sister to John, first Earl of Clare. Mrs. Butler Danvers is niece to the Countess of Glengall, and the Right Hon. Sir W. H. Fremantle, Treasurer of the King's Household, and the late Admiral Sir Thomas F.

Still vainly calls!

They who through a darken'd glass View the minutes as they pass, Make the sun a gloomy mass;

But the fault's their own.

LOVE'S TRUTH.

By Mrs. J. S. Prowse.

I saw thee in thy happiness;-how sweet It was to mark thy soft cheek warmer glow E'en with thy innocent thoughts, and fondly

seek

To hide those dove-like eyes from him, whose life

It was to look on thee: I know not why
A thought of sadness o'er my spirit came,
E'en when I saw thee fair as new Love's
dream

And blessed as the fondest pray'r could ask

Was it, that in the beam of thy blue eyes I caught some strange unutter'd history

Thou wert so fragile, grief would wither up Thy sweet form like a flower the frost hath touch'd,

Should ill befall the chosen of thy heart-
Too soon, poor Leila, came the fatal blow;
Thine idol died! and thou wast desolate.
I saw thee in thy sorrow-very pale
Was thy young cheek; yet in the hour of
joy,

A dying rose-leaf had as lively glow;
But then 'twas perfect whiteness-now the

tint

"Was of the shroud and grave "-thy tearless eyes

Were heavy as a cloud did rest on them; And for the smile that once dwelt on thy lips,

'Twas gone for ever-yet like sunset beams Still left a trace where its soft light had been; A shrine's sad glory when the God has flown.