THE Voyager on the bays and rivers in the vicinity of the city of New-York, finds no object on which his eye delights to linger more admiringly, than upon the green hills and slopes of Staten Island. Tasteful villas and pretty villages meet his view at every turn as his vessel slowly floats past its shores; each one apparently offering a sweet and shady retreat from the ills and cares of the world. On the western side of the island is a village which appears peculiarly pleasing. Embowered among elms, willows and flowering trees which leave its red roofs and white piazzas alone visible, it has an air of repose and simplicity which renders it extremely attractive. But groves and bowers, we all know, have never been sufficient of themselves to ensure their owners tranquillity. Peaceful and quiet as the village of Cherrytown might appcar from afar, the turmoils and passions of the world had stolen under its shades and produced those events which I shall endeavor faithfully to narrate. At an early hour one fine Summer morning, the attention of Mrs. Van Pelt, the tailor's lady, was attracted by an unusual stir about the premises of her opposite neighbor, the young widow Watson. "Jacobus, where can the widow Watson be going to-day ?" she asked of her husband. husband may, f' aught we know, be alive in some furren parts." "That is no longer possible, Mrs. Patten. Its eight years next fall, since he sailed for the West Indies, and no one could ever dream of his return." "You can't tell what God may choose to do with him. He might have been cast on some desert island like Robinson Crusoe." "It may be; but it is improbable." "Still you are wrong, I think about Egbert," said Mrs. Patten. "I do not set him down as widow Watson's beau, but think he is casting sheep's eyes at Mary Connor." "What, Isaac Connor's daughter, who lives down the road towards Mersereau's Ferry?" "Yes: and as she is coming home from York with the party, that's the reason Egbert goes along—at least, that's my idea." "Well, really now, Mrs. Van Pelt, how can you be so short sighted. He hasn't an idea of such a thing; besides she has a beau in the city, her cousin, a nice young man." "Bless your soul, they have been intimate from childhood, and feel just like brother and sister." "Well it may be-but I must not stand chatting here all day—I have not worked my butter yet." "How do you like your new help?" asked the tailor's wife. "Oh, she is miserable-just arrived in this country, and knows nothing. I asked her if she could dress Asparagus for dinner: 'och, sure, ma'am, I can do that thing beautifully,' she said-and, what do you think!— "I am sure I don't know-but what makes you think she sent up the white stalks only, while the green heads she is going any where ?" were chopped off and thrown away. When I asked her about it, she replied, the thing had gone to seed, and of course she cut off the seed tops." "She has been busy since five o'clock, dusting and fixing her best parlor and spare-room; and then she has been in her posy-patch, cutting some Bouncing Bess, and Johnny-jump-up's, and Lady slippers, for her flower-pots. And see, there she is at the door, dressed in her best shawl and new blue silk bonnet. And there's Cato dragging the wagon out of the barn." To obtain a better view of her neighbor's operations, Mrs. Van Pelt walked out on her piazza, and putting aside the clustering honey-suckle, she eagerly watched the widow's motions. The next neighbor to Mrs. Van Pelt was Mrs. Patten, wife to the village store-keeper. She was also it seems attracted by the stir over the way, and walked out on her porch, the cup which she was wiping and towel still in her hand. As the porch nearly joined the piazza, Mrs. Van Pelt eagerly ran towards her to inquire what such unwonted movement might indicate. "She is as bad as the girl I had last winter who, when she had chopped meat for mince pies, peppered and salted it as if for hash, and hot pies we had indeed, ha-ha!" The ladies laughed heartily, and begging each other to be neighborly and drop in often, they separated. When Mrs. Watson and Egbert Greenwood arrived at the Quarantine they beheld the boat just at the wharf, and the expected party among its passengers. "Now," thought Egbert, "I shall know my fate. Those words which I whispered in Mary's ear the evening before she left home has betrayed my secret, and by her reception of me, I shall be able to judge if my suit will be accepted." Egbert gazed upon the slender figure of Mary Connor, and his heart was buoyant with the hope of soon calling "What is going forward over the way, Mrs. Patten?" her his own. His natural timidity had prevented him from giving utterance to the affection which he had long felt for Mary; but, on bidding her adieu, he had spoken a few fervid words, which at once laid open to her the state of his heart. She had no time to reply, for she was following her mother to the stage-coach which was to take her to the ferry. As they were starting, Egbert advanced to the stage and, mastering his agitation, told her he would be at the ferry for her on her return if she would let him drive her home, for he had something very particular to say to her. Mary gave an assent, but her thick veil prevented him from judging of her feelings by her countenance. However, her answer was propitious, || had in fact mistaken friendship for love. She was in all and upon that slight hope he had built a fabric of future probability engaged to her cousin, as was currently rehappiness. The party landed, and Mrs. Watson and ported, and had embraced this method to repress in him Egbert joined them. Beside Mary Connor and her mo- all presumptuous hopes. Egbert did not hate that happy ther were Mrs. Martin and her two daughters, and cousin, as he gazed after him, for he was a modest man, Mary's cousin, Anthony Allen, whose frequent visits to diffident of his own powers, and only wondered he had Cherrytown were universally set down to Mary's account. ever dreamt of entering again into competition with so He was a dapper Broadway clerk, elegantly attired in fine a gentleman-he, with his village made coat, and a new frock of Adelaide cloth, white pants, fancy vest, homely manners! With a heavy sigh Egbert prepared yellow kid gloves, and his side-locks were curled and to follow the party, and school himself to conceal all perfumed. those tender and bitter feelings which were agitating his heart almost to breaking. Totally unaware of the mischief she had produced, Mary walked on, momentarily expecting Egbert at her side. She had succeeded in repressing her emotion, and sent back the truant thoughts which had discomposed her, and now was wondering why Egbert had not joined her. They were ascending the hill leading to the Pavilion, as Mrs. Watson wished to show her city guests the beautiful and extensive view seen from the top of the building. At the summit of the hill, Mary paused. It was strange after what he had said, he had not sought her side ere this. She turned, and beheld him winding slowly up the hill, not eagerly seeking her, but gaily conversing with the pretty widow Watson, who was leaning upon his arm, and looking smilingly upin his face. Mary started. Was this the solution to his indifference to her? Had his affections been transfered. "What is the matter, Mary, that you start so ?" ask, ed her cousin. Mary Connor was a girl of mild and grave exterior, but possessed feelings of great strength and acuteness. She was generally pale, but her countenance was expressive of sweetness, and her dark blue serious eyes, spoke of a soul as pure as that heaven whose color they bore. She had long seen Egbert's affection, and returned it with all the warmth of her ardent heart. She lived in deep retirement, possessed few friends, and saw little of the world; and consequently having nothing to efface any impression which she received, every thing sank the deeper. In the small cottage, inhabited only by her mother and herself, there were long hours to pass alone, in which Mary's chief amusement consisted in her own thoughts. There, she would live over the scenes she had passed through, think over all she had heard, and call from memory's recesses the cherished ones, " from the shadows where they sleep." Egbert she had loved from her youth; but he was dependant upon his father, and could not "ask her for his bride:" but now, having the promise of a small farm, he was anxiously awaiting "Oh, I believe I trod upon a nettle," said Mary, Mary's return, to invite her to grace his little red farm-stooping, as if to rub her foot; but in truth to conceal house with her loved presence, as its mistress. Mary the expression of agony which she knew was upon her had also remembered those few whispered words, and face. often thought on the promise which she had made to "Let me examine your foot, consin-the thorn may ride home with him, wondering, but instinctly guessing,be there still," and Anthony knelt before her to exwhat that something might be which he was to tell her.tract the thorn. As they approached the shore her eye fell upon Egbert seated in his small wagon, and the sight completely unnerved her. She strove hard to command herself, and chid herself severely for such weakness-but in vain. Her confusion increased when she beheld Egbert eagerly approaching her; and with the delicate bashfulness of true affection, unwilling Egbert should observe her emotion, and unconscious of the motive he might impute to her actions, she turned hastily away from him, and addressed some trifling question to her cousin. Nay, nay, good Anthony-the thorn is not there," said Mary, sighing heavily; "it has sunk into a tenderer part-deeper deeper: it is in my heart, Anthony." Mary, what ails you-you are pale, and hurt more you allow." than "Yes, coz I am hurt; but it is a wound neither you nor all the medicine in the world can cure. As Mary musingly cast her eye down it fell upon her cousin, who was still kneeling, gazing up at her, open mouthed, with such a comical expression of perplexity Astonished and distressed, Egbert remained immove-that, her nerves being before unstrung, she burst into a able. Could it be possible! Had she really turned hearty laugh, whose wild, but merry tones brought most from him without even the greeting of a friend? Where of the party around her. was the smile of welcome, the extended hand he had so frequently seen in his imagination? Had he been mistaken in fancying himself preferred? The party passed on, and with them Mary Connor, leaning upon her cousin's arm, apparently utterly unconscious of Egbert's presence-without even bestowing upon him a single look. Egbert's senses were in a turmoil; he could not arrange his thoughts so as to be capable of calm reflection, or he might have obtained a glimpse of the truth, and have seen in Mary's unusual conduct, her neglect of even common civility, a proof of some powerful emotion. This, however, did not occur to Egbert, and he at once decided, his vanity had misled him in imagining his affection was returned, and he Why, cousin-you are the oddest creature!" exclaimed Anthony, quite at a loss what to make of her varied moods. "How happy dear Mary is, now that her cousin Allen is with her," observed Mrs. Watson to Egbert. "See, he is kneeling-in jest, I suppose; but if I am not mistaken there is something of reality between them, and they will be married before long." Egbert did not reply, for he was too much discomposed to speak. He had already blamed himself for his precipitancy, and determined to approach Mary again, to look into her face, and see if there were not one little hope left for him. Mary heard his footsteps near her, and her heart beat violently. She was now convinced; she thought of his inconstancy, and fearful of showing || who once welcomed him with a bright and sunny smile, was forced to be cold and distant, to show him he had nothing to hope. him she had not been able to forget so soon, she resolved to receive him with such coldness, should he accost "And is it so indeed!" he murmured, his heart filled her, that he would imagine her short absence had also "Will sweet Mary Connor never be changed her sentiments. They had now reached the with anguish. It Have I lived so many years in a delusion? Pavilion stairs, and a pause had separated the different mine? cannot be that I was so mistaken-she once did love groups. Egbert timidly approached Mary— "Will you take my arm, Miss Mary?" he said; me, but has abandoned me for a more dashing lover." "these steps are so very steep." "No, I thank you, sir," she said, distantly. "My cousin will assist me." Turning to Anthony, she passed her arm through his, and ran gaily up-stairs. Now it really would seem Mary, all good and pure as she is, was actuated by a little girlish spite; or, to speak more elegantly, womanly pique, when she so cruelly crushed all her lover's hopes. She must have read his feelings in his ingenuous countenance; but he had neglected her for another, and he was to be punished. Ah! how dear a delight it is to torment a poor trembling lover! To see the high and haughty spirit of man subdued by a frown-and hear his commanding voice falter, while addressing his "ladye love." This is, however, a dangerous game to play; and there are few, very few, who can persevere in it with safety. The lion may appear perfectly tamed-he may bear your teasing and your goading for a while; but push him not too far, or he may turn and rend you. Mary paid well for this, her first essay in the art of coquetry. Little did she imagine she was weaving around her a black web of destiny, which no efforts of her's could breakand which no sunshine of hope could illumine. Those few words were to color her whole future life, and years of sadness and loneliness was the high price which fate demanded for her duplicity. Arrived at the observatory on the top of the Pavilion, an extensive and beautiful view burst upon the delighted party. The most prominent object was the city of New-York, seen across the beautiful isle-adorned bay. Jersey stretched far and wide at the left, rich in " pomp of groves and garniture of fields;" while on the opposite side of the bay, Long Island lay basking in the Summer! sun; its verdant and sunny plains bearing many a pretty village, which with its shrines," through the foliage are gleaming, half shown." At their feet lay the Quarantine, with its neat white hospitals and churches; and beyond that the lovely island on which they stood, presenting a charming variety of hill and valley and field, studded with villas, and "Pastoral dales, thick set with modest farm." The It was a varied and vivid picture, from which an observer would not turn soon away. Mrs. Watson's party were loud in their expressions of admiration. thoughts, however, of two of the party were not occupied with the scene before them. During those bitter reflections, Egbert's thoughts flew over the past; he reviewed all his intercourse with Mary, and the memory of many a smile, a word, a blush, arose to his mind; trifles, which to any other but a lover would be unmeaning, to him are "confirmation strong" of all he had hoped or imagined. He recalled all those "Dreams, treasured up from early days, All those evidences of her past preference for him; he sighed at this proof, that she he had imaged as perfect, was tainted with her sexes frailty-fickleness. Yes, it was evident she once had distinguished him; but as soon as her city cousin took the field, her old lover was "whistled down the wind" without one pang of remorse. Egbert's pride arose. He saw he had lavished the treasure of his affection on one unworthy, as changeable as a sunset cloud, and one who probably was enjoying the triumph she had acquired over his heart. The departure of his companions aroused Egbert from his sad reverie-he followed them, having arrived at the cheering conviction, that he had been most shamefully flirted with, and jilted. All this while, Mary, laughing and talking gaily with those around her, was ready to weep her heart out that she had allowed herself to cherish an attachment which had never been returned, and for one who could so heartlessly deceive her. He, whom she expected to meet as the ardent lover, his last words had seemed to indicate, was cold, indifferent-bestowing no thought upon her-but, oh, bitterer still seeking in preference another. "Take care, cousin, you will be off the hill!" cried Anthony as Mary was gaily running down before him, while indulging these sad reflections. "Come, take my arm and you will go more safely." "I will give him one more trial," murmured Mary, "and if that fails all is indeed over!" "What! who is over?" exclaimed Anthony looking around, "people should never go near precipices." "I promised to ride home with him," continued Mary unconscious of her cousin's presence, "and if he does not ask me--" a deep sigh finished Mary's sentence. "Who asked you to ride, cousin? You must go with no one but me, Mary. I have bespoken a gig which I see there before the hotel with the other carriages." Mary did not answer, and her brown study, as her cousin called it, lasted until they arrived at the hotel. The widow Watson was a merry bright-eyed, and ex"What a simpleton I was!" thought Egbert, who ceedingly bustling lady who always sought to obtain the was leaning out of a window, apparently occupied with management of every pleasure party of which she made the objects around him. "How could I have ever ima- one. She was now busily employed arranging the ride gined Mary Connor would bestow her peerless loveli- home-what mischief such persons may make someness upon a mere country lad? She has been, evident- times. Mary and Anthony she had set down as lovers, ly, long engaged to her cousin. Would I had never and decided they should ride in his hired vehicle. Egspoken those words in her ear!" bert she placed on the list of her own admirers, or at Now, all friendly, social intercourse must cease. She least hoped to make him one, and his wagon she deter mined to grace with her own still pretty person. The others were all to be bundled into her capacious wagon, with black Cato, for their escort. All were in readiness sauntering about the piazza, awaiting the arrival of the said African, who was taking his last sup of good liquor at the bar. "Now for one more effort," said Egbert. "She promised to ride home with me, I will remind her of it, and if she prefers going with her cousin then all hope will indeed be gone. On her answer will depend my future destiny!" Mrs. Watson bustled about, now helping one on with a shawl, now hunting for a pin for another. "Where's Mrs. Martin," she exclaimed, "oh, here she is. Come, my dear madam, you with your daughters and Mrs. | Connor are to ride in my wagon. That goes first, the post of honor you know-please to get in ladies. Cato drive carefully, for you have a precious load. Good bye, go slow. Anthony, you of course will drive your cousin." "Oh yes, Mary is going with me." Then flying across to Egbert, she said—" Mr. Egbert, you will have to drive the widow Watson as all the other ladies are disposed of.” "How does Miss Connor go―did she say she was going with her cousin," he said, with a faltering voice. "Oh certainly. She is engaged to go with him now and," in a whisper, "to the altar also, I believe-so make the best of your fate, and take me." Certainly, madam," he replied recovering, "I shall be proud to drive so pretty a woman." Mrs. Watson now sought out Mary-" Come Mary, child, we are all waiting for you as Anthony's gig stands next." Mary's heart sank and in spite of herself she turned pale, and unwilling to go she still hung back. "Am I to ride with Anthony," she said-" I was engaged toI thought are you not going with him?" || "Heaven's how bashful these lovers are," said Mrs. Watson, laughing, "I go with him! now you know Mary you would tear my eyes out if I did. No, I am to ride with Egbert-you do not know what compliments he paid me, about his happiness in driving such || a beautiful creature-hem! You see other people have beaux." Mary felt a shock as if her heart-strings had broken, and for a moment, she leaned breathless and heavily against the railing. "Away with doubt-away with hope, the last link is broken," and without another word, she placed her hand in Anthony's, and was led to his carriage. Egbert heard not what passed, but he saw the action. "So there she goes!" he murmured, "and with her passes away my whole life's happiness. Oh, Mary! Mary!-how could you break a heart that so truly loved you! and, for yon curled and essenced thing!Come my dear Mrs. Watson, they have all gone, let me have the pleasure of handing you into my unworthy carriage." The wagons drove off, to the eyes of the lookers on, a happy and well matched party, so differently do we read all that passes in another's bosom !—truly, "the heart knoweth its own bitterness" alone. The gig of Anthony Allen was directly before Egbert's wagon, and not all the pretty widow's prattle, could keep his attention from it. Anthony seemed conversing earnestly on some theme of great interest, most probably his love, Egbert thought. Mary was looking down in soft confusion he imagined, while the odious Allen was peering under her bonnet, and gazing into those soft blue eyes, as if to read his answer there. Egbert did not see the pale sweet face of Mary expressive of suffering alone; he could not hear the repeated inquiries of her cousin if she were not ill, and if he should stop and get her a glass of water-he persisted in thinking them lovers, and his spirit grew wild with the thought. His companion called his attention off for a moment, and when he again looked forward, the arm of Anthony was around his cousin tenderly pressing her to him. The widow laughed merrily. "Well! well!-you see I was right, Master Anthony is pressing his suit in earnest." Maddened with the sight, Egbert gave his horse a furious cut, determined no longer to be a witness to their happiness. Mary heard him coming-she would not for worlds he should see the tears which were raining over her face, and imagine they flowed from disappointed affection, she wiped them hastily away, pulled down her veil, and commenced a laughing chat with Anthony, who delighted at her sudden recovery from her unaccountable fit of weeping, laughed loudly at every thing she said. Just then Egbert came up with them. "You are merry there," he said, with an effort at indifference. Happy hearts make merry faces," said Mary gaily, "I hope you are enjoying your ride." "Can you doubt of my happiness, with so charming a companion!" Egbert replied touching the widow's hand with a slight pressure. He drove on-and so were two true and loving hearts separated, without a word of bitterness between them, without even a "lover's quarrel" "Like ships that have gone down at sca, When heaven was all tranquillity!" They were sundered as completely, as if each had indeed became changed and fickle! It was but the merest trifle, a word or look “wrongly taken" that separated Egbert Greenwood and Mary Connor. "Alas, alas! that fate should sever Two hearts that might have loved-for ever." The remainder of the day and evening was spent at the house of Mrs. Watson by previous agreement of all the party. Irritated, wild, stung to the heart, Egbert was not himself. His usual timidity and gravity were thrown aside, and his extravagant gaiety astonished all. Bent upon showing Mary her fickleness had no effect on him, and determined she should not count upon him as a victim to her coquetry, he devoted himself so exclusively to Mrs. Watson and paid her such compliments that she, as well as the rest of the company sat him down as her ardent admirer. In fact, before the fit of madness was off, deeming a marriage with Mrs. Watson would completely deceive Mary in regard to his feelings, and perhaps produce a pang of regret in her bosom, when she saw he was irretrievably another's, he said that to Mrs. Watson which he could never recall, and left the house her plighted lover. |