287 in boxes, were consigned to the watery element. During the ceremonials Mr. Barton stood and watched with a fixed attention the proceedings, which were to part him from his daughter. There was an unnatural wildness in his countenance; his frame trembled, his visage assumed a pale and snowy hue, while his eye-balls, which glared with an unearthly look, gave him the appearance of a maniac. The ceremony had taken place, and a settled gloom still hung upon the inmates of the ship. Several passengers were engaged in ministering to the wounded, while others were mourning over their departed comrades Suddenly a long, piercing, dismal shriek, which sounded like a funeral knell was heard-a dashing in the water and all was still. Then might be seen the body of a man borne rapidly away with the waves, and in an instant he was lost for ever. It required no search to ascertain who was the suicide. The absence of Mr. Barton, and his haggard appearance a few minutes before satisfied all parties that he was the unfortunate. Thus perished the hero of our sketch. By nature endowed with tenderness of feeling, and sensitiveness in a remarkable degree; he had seen his wife, on whom he so fondly doated, fall a prey to disease and death,—his daughter, the only solace of his years, untimely and inhumanly butchered, and himself left, a solitary victim of despair! His reason forsook its throne, and with a shriek, which told his agony, he made his grave in the troubled waters of the unfathomable ocean. GERALDINE; OR, THE CORONET. A TALE. "The love that seeks a home Where wealth or splendor shines, Is like the gloomy gnome, That dwells in dark gold mines."-MOORE. IN a bay windowed recess of the breakfast-room overlooking the park at Herbertson Hall, sat the fair Geraldine de Tracy, and her humble companion May Melvyn, both evidently occupied in thinking of something not absolutely before them, though their eyes were fixed upon the clusters of roses upon the lawn. Suddenly, May broke the silence, and tapping Geraldine upon the shoulders, laughingly said," A sixpence for your thoughts." Geraldine was confused, and suddenly rising, and throwing the book that was in her hand upon the table, moved from the window, blushing deeply, and murmuring, “ Indeed they would not be worth the money." 66 "I think I can guess," said May archly, "Lord Herbertson did not return as he had promised! Ah! Had his absence no share of your thoughts?" Geraldine smiled; but she made no reply. There was no need, however of concealment, for May knew that Geraldine loved her cousin, Lord Herbertson, and his Lordship had been very attentive to Geraldine, who was now upon a visit to his Lordship's maternal parent at Herbertson Hall. He had never made a formal declaration, but it was evident that he was much attached to his cousin, and in these cases words and actions are more convincing than formal declarations. Geraldine was a fair and fragile creature, tall, slight, and swan-like, her complexion was pale-very pale, but the bright celestial blue of her eloquent eyes gave to her countenance a spiritual expression, and she seemed altogether a bright fairy thing, sojourning among, rather than belonging to, the children of earth. "Eyes, blue as June's sky, when stars light up And her heart was a treasury of good and happy thoughts. She loved and was beloved! And love is all that makes a woman's world-her element-her lifeher Eden! Her companion, May Melvyn was the child of a distant and poor relation of the Tracy family, whom Geraldine's now deceased parents had taken under their protection in infancy; and Geraldine loved her as a sister. While they had been staying at Herbertson Hall, the curate, Mr. Atherly, of the neighboring village, who was much respected by the Dowager Baroness (Lord Herbertson's mother) and frequently invited to the Hall, had paid much attention to May Melvyn, but May was a different creature from Geraldine, and would speak with contempt of the circumstances of her admirer; and she treated him with coolness ever. May's ambition had a higher object. She could not entertain the idea of settling down into the wife of a country curate, although it was probable, from the light in which the Dowager Baroness regarded Mr. Atherly, that his circumstances would never be indigent. But May was ambitious of a coronet, and although she could not entertain the probability of her supplanting Geral- for her recovery The companion of his morning ramdine in the affections of Lord Herbertson, she, neverthe-bles, and his evening amusements in the drawing-room less, essayed all her arts to please and attract him. Geraldine was no match for her artful companion: she entertained no unworthy idea of herself, and did not believe it possible that any one about her, whose lips breathed friendship, and whose eyes looked love, could mean her harm. She was happy in her innocence, and did not dream that aught could dispel her happiness, -Alas! we trace The map of our own paths; and long, ere years, With their dall steps the brilliant lines efface, Comes the swift storm and blots them out in tears." Lord Herbertson returned in the course of the morning, and May remarked that he was not so pointed in his attention to his fair cousin as he was used to be. Geraldine herself did not notice any difference, for we ourselves are always the last to perceive the indifference of those we love. And Geraldine still was happy; and she rambled through the park with her cousin, and sat in her favorite bower, and read to him, while May went to pluck flowers. Lord Herbertson could not be otherwise than delighted with the gentle affection of Geraldine, and he more than once endeavored to give himself up to her heart and soul. But an indefinable something prevented him, and marred his happiness. He no longer wished to be alone with his cousin: he was more anxious than ever concerning another: he preferred May's singing to Geraldine's although he acknowledged still that her playing was inferior to that of Geraldine. In a word, the artifices of the ambitious girl was succeeding! was May Melvyn. And it was not long before the artful girl contrived to accomplish her object, and to bring the owner of a coronet to her feet. Lord Herbertson had declared he loved her. And this, while Geraldine was exerting her influence with her brother, Lord de Tracy, to obtain a living for Mr. Atherly, in the hope of his fortune being thereby bettered, May Melvyn would no longer hesitate to marry so worthy a man. While Geraldine was thus engaged, May had been practising upon the affections of Lord Herbertson. She accomplished her object first. Of course, the new attachment was kept secret, and thus passed a month or more, May continuing to preserve the heart she had stolen from her friend. Geraldine recovered, and was again able to appear in society. She returned to her brother's in London, and Lord Herbertson also quitted the Hall for his town mansion, in order, as he affected, to be near Geraldine; but with a different object as May Melvyn knew. The first thing that was communicated to Geraldine, by her brother, was the pleasing information that he had obtained for her protegée, Mr Atherly, a valuable living in a parish adjoining the metropolis. She was delighted in being thus able to provide for so excellent a man, and to remove, as she thought, the scruples of May to a marriage with him. She immediately wrote to the curate apprising him of, and congratulating him upon the event. May came in just as the letter had been despatched to the post office. Now, now, my dear May," said Geraldine, you can have no objection to marry Mr. Atherly. He is appointed to the living at―." 46 "What do you mean?" said Geraldine. your only objection had been to his pecuniary circum stances. There cannot be a better-a worthier man "In those matters, my dear Geraldine," said May," a third person is a bad judge. He may be all that you, in your enthusiasm, are pleased to describe him, but still, as I do not like him, I could not expect to find any great happiness in a marriage with him." Lord Herbertson had, as yet, no idea of the feelings which were taking possession of his heart. He thought "I am happy to hear of his good fortune," said May, he was merely doing justice to the merits of May Melcoldly. "But I can assure you that I am still as far when he began to love her. And thus passed seve-from becoming his wife as ever I was." vyn ral days and weeks, and then Geraldine fell ill of a fever, "I thought and was confined to her bed. For a short time her life was despaired of, and no one was more distressed than Lord Herbertson. The curate, Mr. Atherly, was con-living than Mr. Atherly." stantly at her bedside in the performance of his sacred functions. And once Geraldine, her eyes suffused with tears, after contemplating the features of the curate, and her companion, May Melvyn, expressed her wish that they would be united. "I fear," said she," that my life is drawing near to a close: that this beautiful world is passing away from me; but I should be glad if I knew that two of the kindest and best of created beings Geraldine made no reply. After all, then, she had were blest in each other's love. I am very, very grateful, mistaken the heart of her companion. She had acted in Mr. Atherly, for your kindness in these trying hours the confidence that May secretly loved Mr. Atherly, and -you have brought peace to my dying pillow, you have had almost in words told him so. She now discovered made what I fear are my last hours, composed and hap-her mistake, and shortly after Mr Atherly received his py. Would that I could reward you with the hand of her you love!" At this moment her eyes caught the face of Lord Herbertson, whose manly courage now gave way, and who was endeavoring to conceal his tears. Anxious to spare his feelings, she changed the conversation immediately. "Then you will not marry, Mr. Atherly?" 66 first letter, apprising him of the presentation, another was put into his hands by a special messenger from Miss de Tracy, apprising him that May Melvyn never could be his. Mr. Atherly, who had been led to believe that May had a regard for him, was much affected by this announceContrary to the expectations of the physicians, the ment of the blight of fondly cherished hopes. He came disease took a favorable turn, and shortly afterwards to take possession of his new living; but his heart was Geraldine was pronounced in a state of recovery, although sad, and the improvement in his fortune could not dispel it would be some time before she would be able to leave his sorrow. Lord de Tracy was much pleased with her chamber. This spread joy through the establish- the manner and talents of his sister's protegée, and ment, and Lord Herbertson waited with much anxiety || took pains to show his respect for him. Geraldine also thought it her duty, as she had been instrumental in mis- But for my "cloth" I should have adopted another course, to show the disgust which your conduct has excited in this breast, and the contempt with which I regard your Lordship's character." "My good man you had better retire. You may tell Lord de Tracy if you please all that you know. I will meet him in any way he pleases, but I will not be insulted by any priggish parson in my own house." There was no occasion, however, for his Lordship's speech; for Mr. Atherly, as he finished his last sentence, had opened the door, and before Lord Herbertson had done speaking he was in the hall. Lord Herbertson could not but feel that by a strange blunder he had thrown himself into an awkward predicament. If Mr. Atherly were to acquaint Geraldine's brother of his duplicity, Lord de Tracy would certainly demand satisfaction. He thought it best therefore, to adopt Mr. Atherly's sug A misdirected letter from Lord Herbertson made Mr. Atherly acquainted with the whole truth of the case. His Lordship had come from his club one night excited with wine, and had recollected a promise to Geraldine to write for the attendance of Mr. Atherly in the next morning's ride. He had also a letter for May in his, desk which should have been sent the previous day, but without the superscription. Scarcely knowing what he did, he wrote Mr. Atherly's name upon the letter intend-"gestion, and, as his Lordship himself termed it, to let ed for Miss Melvyn, and her name upon Mr. Atherly's, and, giving them to his servant to be delivered at the earliest possible hour in the morning, he retired to bed. In the morning, upon awaking, he was informed that the Reverend Mr. Atherly had been waiting for his rising for nearly an hour, and that his business was of so pressing a nature that he could not leave the house without seeing his Lordship. "What can the Parson want?", cried Lord Herbertson; "More preferment, I suppose," he muttered laughingly; but it will not do." 66 1 the ill used Geraldine "down gently;" for May Melvyn now was the absolute mistress of his heart. Geraldine dreamed not of the inconstancy of her lover. He had accounted for his apparent neglect by saying that he had lost immense sums (which was the case) at some recent races; and having promised to abandon sporting pursuits altogether, Geraldine believed that in his absence from her he was engaged in extricating himself from his difficulties; and she fondly cherished the hope that, having become sensible of his error, he would thenceforth dedicate himself entirely to the safer domestic pursuits. Alas! the poor girl deceived herself! Lord Herbertson was much embarrassed, but he left his lawyer to settle the matters, and devoted his time to May Melvyn, whom he now desired to make his wife. Geraldine would often accompany her brother to parties and balls, and Lord Herbertson, having excused himself, would join May Melvyn whilst they were absent. Geraldine could not be without her fears. Mr Ather Shortly afterwards his Lordship descended to the breakfast-parlor, where Mr. Atherly was waiting. The latter immediately rose, and putting into Lord Herbertson's hand the misdirected letter, said, My Lord, I thought it best to deliver this into your hands, in order that the evidence of your crime-of your infamymight be by yourself destroyed. My sacred calling prevents me from demanding reparation for the injury you have done me; and though my feelings, as a man, urge me to disclose your monstrous guilt, my duty as a Chris-ly strove to divert her attention from Lord Herbertson tian minister compels me to shield you from human retribution. As my silence, however, is only conditional upon your withdrawing yourself as soon as you possibly can with respect to the feelings of that pure and exquisite woman you have so basely trifled with, you will see the propriety of breaking off the connexion, and forbear-, ing to encourage hopes which you never intend to realize." "My dear Sir," said Lord Herbertson, "though you are not my chaplain, I have listened to your sermon as attentively as if I had paid you for it. It seems that you know something. What you know, you know. It does not appear to me that you have any right to dictate the course I should pursue. So whether I cast off Miss Tracy at once, or let her down by degrees, as you propose, or continue my attentions there, my resolution will not be at all influenced by your impertinence as much as possible. Sometimes she would laughingly entertain the probability of her lover being false, and her reverend friend encouraged these occasions, and took the opportunity, while combatting this probability, to impress upon her the necessity of preparing her feelings in case such an event should by possibility occur. In this manner he expected to be able to prevent the blow from falling upon the fair and fragile Geraldine so fatally as it might have done without preparation. He little knew the depth of woman's feeling. He little knew the strength of woman's love. At last the discovery came, and suddenly. Geraldine had perceived that Mr. Atherly had ceased to pay attention to May Melvyn, and having asked him the reason of his conduct, he had replied that he considered his case hopeless. One evening she had accompanied her brother to a ball, but being strangely depressed in spirits, and disliking the company and the awkward dancing, she returned home very early, and proceeded to her dressing room. She inquired for May Melvyn, and was told that she was engaged with a female friend who frequently visited her. "I do not know whether you came to insult me, Sir," "Well, well!" said Geraldine," do not disturb them: And she threw herrejoined his Lordship; "but if it were not for your cloth, do not say that I am come home." I should either pull your nose or kick you down stairs." self upon a couch, and ordered the casement to be thrown "Your Lordship would not have had the opportunity open, in order to have a clear view of the unclouded starof doing either had it not been for my sacred callingry skies, and that the sweet perfumes of the clematis "Impertinence, my Lord!" exclaimed Mr. Atherly. "This is the first time my conduct has ever been so designated. It is some consolation, however, to find it only so designated by Lord Herbertson." which overhung the window might be wafted into the || Melvyn, who had become the wretched sharer of Lord boudoir. That night was she destined to hear the fatal truth of Herbertson's perfidy. She had returned from the scene of pleasure to become oppressed with care and woe. "She has left the lighted hall She has flung down cap and plume; From its beauteous bands of pearl, Her thoughts were of her lover. She pictured scenes of domestic happiness, and she and the loved one were the presiding spirits of those scenes. Her soul was exalted: she believed that more than mortal happiness was in store for her. "And beautiful she looked Herbertson's fortunes, was a poor and humbled, and broken spirited divorcée, concealing her shame in obscurity, and Lord Herbertson nearly beggared by his own courses, and the profligacy of his wife, had retired to the Continent to live" cheaply". The beautiful and gentle Geraldine de Tracy was led to the hymencal altar by the exemplary Mr. Atherly, the light of happiness and virtuous love again irradiating her path. Original. THE ROSE AND VIOLET. Ir was a calm, a lovely hour. The sun, though it shone majestically through the earlier part of the day, had been for a while obscured by a dark cloud, from which had just descended a gentle shower, rendering the air agreeable, and giving to the vegetable kingdom a still more lively green. Every shrub seemed to rejoice. Every flower presented itself to the beholder, with yet higher tints, each color beamed with a more brilliant lustre. The little birds flew from branch to branch with new agility, and with their voices made sweet music. The sun breaking through a parting cloud had gazed for a moment upon the lovely scene with peerless grandeur, and was now disappearing behind the western hills, to gladden the hearts of other nations, to make others happy, by his enlivening presence. This hour was doubly dear, to those, who love to steal away from the busy din of the multitude, and seek an asylum among nature's works, favorable to meditation and retrospective thought. Accompanied by a friend, I sallied forth Suddenly she heard murmured voices. These, however, did not interrupt her thoughts. They were distant and indistinct; but they approached, and Geraldine now distinguished the voice of her childhood's companion, May Melvyn. She raised herself upon the velvet couch, and looking through the clustering branches of the clematis, which covered the window, she perceived May and another female proceeding towards a seat directly underneath her window. They were so close that she could not avoid hearing the conversation. Her name was mentioned, and then she heard May exclaim, || to enjoy the tranquility of the hour. The way to the "I am so afraid that stupid parson will make a discovery, and then your life may be endangered." The other female then took May's hand, and pressing it to her lips, exclaimed-" I would brave any danger for your sweet sake." Geraldine was struck with horror. She knew the voice-she could not be mistaken. It was Lord Herbertson's. She was nearly fainting, but summoning courage, she heard the remainder of the conversation, and found that she was despised, and forsaken. Her name was even spoken of jestingly by May and her lover. A week after this Lord Herbertson stood face to face, attended by seconds and armed with pistols, to receive and give satisfaction. Lord Herbertson received his antagonist's shot in his pistol arm, and immediately fired in the air. The seconds then interfered, and the parties left the ground. According to the law of society, Geraldine had received "satisfaction." But what satisfaction? Did the circumstance of her perfidious lover, having received a shot in his pistol arm, alleviate her sufferings? And those sufferings were almost more than she could bear. Need we describe them? Where is the heart that cannot imagine all that deep inexpressible woe that befel this fair and fragile creature. "But her heart it did not break, arbor which we sought was bordered by a variety of flowers, which not merely shed their sweet fragrance on all around; but by their beauties almost insensibly, raised our thoughts from the works of perfection to the author of their loveliness, and bade us render praise to "Nature's God." As we walked thus thoughtlessly along, our attention was suddenly attracted by a haughty tone, which seemed very near us. On turning round we saw that it proceeded from a Rose, which was truly a flower of rare beauty. Near it, and indeed almost beneath the lofty bush on which it hung and which had raised it so far above the other flowers of the garden, we espied a little Violet, which ventured to raise its leaves and blossom. This flower was no less perfect than that which had been raised to a rank so lofty. The Rose, conscious of its own dazzling brightness and acquiring courage from its elevated situation, looked disdainfully upon the unassuming Violet and accosted it thus : "How dare you, insignificant flower, for ever groveling in the dust, presume to take your stand so near me, and notwithstanding your worthlessness attract the gaze of thousands, which should have been bestowed upon one so far your superior ?" The Violet replied, "You have indeed, reared your head far above me, and have been styled the queen of flowers. You have gained the idolatrous adoration of many, upon whom you have imposed by your assuming air and splendid appearance. But by those who have learned to despise ostentatious pride, by those who regard merit, though not raised to the pinnacle of Fame And two years afterwards, when the ambitious May and gilded with the splendid trappings with which the worthless are too frequently adorned, I have been termed the emblem of modesty. With respect to my being stationed near so proud a flower, I have merely to say, that I was placed here by the hand of the gardener. It is, however, just the situation which I should have selected, for worth, when compared with vanity, appears still more lovely." Rose. You have made a fine harangue truly; but pray tell me why I am less worthy than you are? Comparing your size with mine, you dwindle into nothing, and your colors are certainly far inferior, they are much less pleasing. Violet. Very true! but are you certain that these constitutes genuine merit? and if you be superior on this account, have you not something to counterbalance your splendid exterior. Have you not concealed beneath you leaves, sharp, piercing thorns? Rose. I have thorns, surely but these are my defence. Were it not for these I should be instantly destroyed. My superior attractions would at once prove fatal. Your state is quite the reverse. No one wishes to pluck so mean a flower as a violet, with which to deck the persons or adorn the rooms of the great and opulent. The briers which I conceal, show, that admirers in their eagerness to possess would seize me with a deadly grasp, were there nothing to check them. These prove my excellence. Violet. Pardon me! but you mistake. Virtue never wounds its possessor; 'tis vice that "wears a sting." Rose. Pardon you? You need forgiveness, truly, for addressing such language to one, upon whom you are so dependent. THE FIRST AND LAST PARTINGS. "Dark though the world for me might show Ir was evening, and the setting sun threw its rich rays of purple light upon the painted window in whose deep recess stood two beings, who for the first time in their lives were enduring the misery of separation. The girl was in the flush of youth and beauty, such as promises to expand to something glorious in riper age; her figure. was almost infantine, and truly might her companion grieve to quit so fair a being: she stood with her soft small hand resting in his, and her eyes-such eyes as were surely never meant for weeping-veiled by their silken lashes, seeking the marble floor to avoid his gaze. He could scarcely have been more than two-and-twenty, and with his slight graceful figure and low sweet voice, formed a fit companion for the bright girl by his side. And companions they had been from infancy; they had grown side by side, and their love had grown with them till it had become a part of their being. What was it to him that Cecile Mowbray was an orphan cousin, and dependent on his proud father for a home; or what the threat of everlasting displeasure if he continued to think of her? Love is not a thing of our own choice, we do not start or tremble at the dark shadow it may fling over our whole existence, nor do we hesitate in the utterance of our deep blissful feeling to the one we love,; Violet. Do you intend by this that I am dependent though we would guard it with a miser's care from upon yourself? Rose. Certainly I do. Do not I protect you? Do not I spread my branches over you and defend you alike from the sun's scorching rays, and the howling tempest, which would overwhelm and destroy your fragile form? Violet. You cast your shadow over me and thus deprive me of much of the genial influence of light and heat; but I cannot by no means thank you for this interposition, for is it not an injury rather than a benefit; and as for the rude blasts from which you protect methey spend their force upon the lofty, not upon those in my peaceful situation. The Rose was just preparing to reply, when a school boy, released from his daily task, came running down the walk, with a light heart. Observing the elegant rose, he determined at once to possess the prize, and hastily snaped it from its stem; but with it he clasped a cruel thorn. The beautiful flower was angrily thrown upon the ground, and its leaves trampled upon the earth. Thus the meek Violet was left, to enjoy, without molestation, the situation which it so much loved. We then proceeded to the place of our retirement and deducted from what we had witnessed-This Moral. External splendor is not a certain indication of great worth; but on the contrary, magnificent appearances are often a cloak for an envious and wretched mind. And those who are raised, without merit, to an elevated rank, are frequently hurled down to disgrace and misery, while the virtuous and unassuming remain unharmed,-respected by the wise and good, and rendered happy by a consciousness of their own worth. SARAH. every other. "Tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark The tree of knowledge has been pluck'd-all's known, Walter Beresford was a younger son, and his father, the proud Mr. Weldon, gave that as the ostensible reason for sending him to seek his fortune in another land, though the fact was, that his eldest and favorite child, having lately returned from his travels, was struck with the beauty of his cousin Cecile, and always accustomed to the gratification of his wildest wishes, had determined, by what means he cared not, to make her his. She, however, repelled his advances with coldness and contempt, and on his addressing her in plainer terms, told him, to his astonishment, that the love he pleaded for was not hers to give. He instantly guessed the truth, and wild with passion, instantly represented to his father the folly he had been guilty of in permitting his brother Walter and Cecile Mowbray to be so constantly together, Three weeks afterwards, Walter received intimation of his father's determination to send him to India. Severely as he felt the separation; he was aware that ultimately it would be for their mutual benefit, and he was now bidding Cecile farewell with a heart in which sorrow for the present and bright hopes for the future were mingling. We will not repeat their conversation; |