"Like all her party she is ever prophesying evil, and || attitude which had been so common with him of late. rather than their words should not come true, they "Now, Alfred, dearest, you must not look so wretched," would ruin themselves and their country." she said caressingly; "did you not promise me you "Come, come! leave politics, and take a stroll on the would try to look more cheerful." Battery," said his wife.

"Certainly there is nothing pleasant in such an expectation. Still, it becomes us all in times of great emergency, to arouse ourselves from despondency, and sharpen all our faculties to keep above the current, or to seize upon new resources for safety. If you are a bank"That has often struck me," said Mr. Marsden, rous-rupt, it will not be from any mismanagement of yours— ing from the gloomy reverie in which he had been plunged, "when I have been all day in the business part of the city, surrounded by men wan with anxiety or haggard with despair, and see the ladies in Broadway decked out like butterflies, sailing along as if in mockery of the woes of their fathers and husbands, it has struck me as something so utterly shocking and unfeeling that I have turned away in disgust."

mere worldly goods of luxuries, when health, and all, tricked out in dresses only fit for, and only made for strength, and innocence, are left, can thus break down the nobility of Europe, whose daily income is greater all high resolves, all religious principles, and throw you than the yearly receipts of some of their husbands. If into the ranks of the weak, the imbecile, whose pigmy they knew how silly they appeared in the eyes of the soul is unable to withstand the shocks of fate. Have world, and particularly the thinking class of their own you forgotten, my husband, there is another and a hap-countrymen, they would dress less expensively and less pier world to the virtuous," she continued, lifting her guily." fine eyes streaming with tears to heaven; "another A very different woman is my friend, Mrs. Marshome where a kind and pitying father watches his chil- || den," said Mrs. Granger; "who is almost the only supdren as they travel their weary and thorny road, hoping port and stay of her suffering husband." they will but prove true to him and to themselves, that he may joyfully welcome them to that better land he has in reserve for them. In my father's house there are mansions.' Oh, Alfred! Alfred! rise, I conjure you, superior to these trials, and we shall inhabit them together when earth and all its troubles shall have passed: away?"

66

By-the-bye, how are they making out since his fail

ure?"

"She behaved nobly on the occasion. Determined to economize, she has given up her rooms here, and hired a very cheap one in some very obscure street. She had several invitations from friends and relatives to come to them, but she would not consent to part with Tears burst from the eyes of young Marsden, and the her husband, who, poor fellow, remains here to seek for stern and despairing feelings which had seized upon his employment, and rather than be a burden to him, she heart and crushed all his best resolves, vanished from applied to the Female Depository for work, with the his breast, and throwing his arms around her, he called proceeds of which she defrays nearly all their expenses." "Dear me," sneered Mr. Shallow, "I should like to her his guardian spirit, and blessed the hour he had taken to his heart so firm a counsellor and tender guide. see the fashionable Mrs. Marsden working for a living: About a week after this, some of the remaining boar-sitting up late sewing by a tallow candle." ders of Mrs. Benton were seated in the drawing-room awaiting dinner. The last to enter was Mr. Granger, who threw himself upon a sofa overcome with fatigue. "Any thing new in Wall street?" asked Mr. Norton, an elderly gentleman, not in business, who had not been out all day.

"Silence, sir!" said old Mr. Norton, in a voice of thunder, which sent the annihilated dandy into a corner shivering with fright. "Noble woman!" he continued, turning to Mrs Granger. "Such high-souled beings exalt the character of their sex, and are a blessing to their husbands. Sweet creature-she deserves to be happy

"Matters look worse and worse-Stocks are falling and she will be happy; such moral courage and purity bad news from England." of soul bring their reward," and he turned away to conceal the tear that started to his eye.

"Any new cases, as we used to say in Cholera times: any new failures ?"

'Good God, yes, a dozen. I remember the time lon one failure set all Wall street in a ferment, and w we have twenty-five a-day. The great house of Specieton, Bankly and Co. are gone all to smash-not

save a rent."

"He! he!" laughed Mrs. Cotton. "I wonder if he finds the pressure real now.”

"How unamiable politics render a woman," said Mrs. Granger, aside: "but what is poor Mrs. Specieton to do without money," she added aloud; "she never denied herself any thing, and I fancy does not possess a mind strong enough to rise superior to circumstances."

'She was an awfully extravagant woman-and so lazy," said Mrs. Cotton, arranging the sofa-cushions, upon which she had been lolling all the morning; "that I have seen her lounge on the sofa all day. She has dresses enough to last her two years, and so costly, she might support herself by the sale of them. Her pockethandkerchiefs cost twenty-five dollars a piece."

"Any woman who gives so much money for a pockethandkerchief, deserves to suffer," said Mrs. Granger. "I declare it makes me shudder when I look around me and see the awful waste of money, caused by some of the silly, dressy ladies of our city."

"Madam, you are very right," said Mr. Norton. "It is truly ridiculous to see women, whose husbands toil day and night for a living, and who may one day lose it

66

There is another failure to-day which worries me very much," said Mr. Granger. "It is the German house of Manhiem, Lessing and Co. I am afraid our amiable friend, Wilhelm Rozenstien, is a sufferer there, and I dread the consequence to one of his excitable temperament."

"I should be sorry for him," said Mrs. Cotton, "he is so gentle and good, and sings so interestingly." "It is that very gentleness which I fear; were he possessed of more firmness and a stronger judgment, I should not be so anxious. These foreigners think it so great a degradation to fail in their business engagements, that they are unable to support the disgrace, and often make way with themselves."

"Yes," said Mrs. Granger, sighing, “Wilhelm had a quick sense of honor, and an ardent sensibility, and I have often heard him say he would never survive a failure. I do not know what would become of his dear mother and sisters in Germany, should he not act like a man, for they all depend on him for their sustenance." "An honest man must always feel an event which involves so many others," said Mr. Norton; "but surely, now, when there is no help for it, and when it is so universal, such acute feeling is out of place."

66

Yes, when the whole nation is a bankrupt," said the whig lady, "individuals need not be so sore upon the subject."

The dinner-bell now rang. The folding-doors were

since dwelt upon the earth, the hope of possessing a paultry title, a few acres of land, or heap of golden dust has tempted many a man to imbrue his hands in a brother's blood. But we turn with horror from such contemplations, and imagine two bearing this tender relationship, stepping from childhood to youth, from youth to manhood, from manhood to maturity, and from maturity to old age, linked in the holy bond of friendship, unbroken by jarring interests or ungenerous stife.

To such the world cannot seem so desolate though none else should smile upon them, its cares must be less distracting, and its toils less heavy to be borne.

thrown open discovering a long well-filled table, at the head of which Mrs. Benton waved the ladies to their places, and invited them to partake, of the dainties around them. Dinner was scarcely over, and the family again assembled in the drawing-room, when the near report of a pistol caused a start and a shudder in all. They gazed upon each other pale and wondering, when a loud shriek aroused their energies, and with one accord all rushed up-stairs. The door of young Rozenstien's room was open, before which lay the insensible form of Matilda, who had fainted upon the threshold, and with most harrowing fears they entered the room. It was all too true-there, upon the sofa, the young, the gifted, the amiable, Wilhelm Rozenstien lay, dead by his own hand. His dark hair was matted around a wound in his forehead, and the carpet was soaking with his heart's blood. He had done the deed deliberately, for numerous letters lately written lay upon the table; his mother's miniature was around his neck, while near him were the pictures of his sisters, and various gifts they had sent him as tokens of their love. On the table was a paper open, the ink of which was scarcely dry. "I am a bankrupt!" it said, dishonored thing to be scorned and pointed at by all who look upon me! I will not survive it! Ah, Matilda, I have truly loved you, and ardently looked forward to the day when I could call you my own-fate has severed us for ever, and unable to support your loss, I seek forgetfulness in the grave. Mother! sisters!-adieu. Three weary years have I toiled alone in a foreign land; the hope of again seeing my native home, and pressing you to my heart The memory of that gentle girl renders the very name once more, has cheered me on my way. gone, and I am a beggar-hopeless. I cannot bear it- of sister dear to me, and when I see those bearing that farewell-farewell!"

a

All is now

The sobs of the ladies was the only sound which disturbed the stillness of the room, as they raised the wretched Matilda, or gazed upon the hapless suicide.

"Dear, but mistaken boy!" sighed Mr. Norton, as his tears fell upon the inanimate Rozenstien.

"Want

It is far more uncommon among our sex to witness estrangements taken place in after years: yet we sometimes find even among sisters jealousy and rivalry exist, and the indulgence of such hateful guests cannot but obliterate all kindly gentle feeling, and shut the heart Surely against all the sweet sensibilities of nature. those who have been nurtured by the same maternal bosom, who have been reared under the same roof, whose instructions and pastimes have been in common, should be the first to be cemented in sympathy and love.

Gentle reader, I for two and twenty years was blessed with a sister uniting all that could make that endearing connection a source of most exquisite pleasure. We loved with a fondness which knew not of declension, we might almost be said to live but in each others sight, joy was not joy to me unshared by her and with her every sweet association of happiness was blended, she is gone from the earth, she was too pure to remain long its inhabitant, and I am bereaved indeed!

tender relationship, and of an age to enter into each
others feelings, dwelling together, I murmur to myself:
Happy are ye, never may the hand of death sever the
silken cord which binds you, and above all, never may
discord or opposing interests mar your present serenity.
But we have spoken only of brothers and sisters with
There is a sweet and
regard to those of their own sex.
holy link which binds the opposite sexes in this relation-
ship-especially if they are the only offspring of their
parents. It is a passionless love but not on that ac-
count wanting in depth or fervor. Man will endure

of fortitude and religion, has brought you to this woeful pass. You have broken those hearts, which, could you have better borne the ills of fate, you might have seen in future years happy around you! God forgive you, poor Wilhelm !" "Amen! and sustain his mother!" whispered Mrs. | much, and accomplish much for a fond and gentle sister, Granger.

E. R. S.

BROTHERS AND SISTERS.

and she in return will exercise all the kindness and forbearance it is a woman's province to shine in.

"I could bear any thing from him," remarked a loving sister, speaking of her brother, “though there is not perhaps another person in the world who could not irritate my temper." Gentle reader, this was an unmarried lady, or I deem she would have excepted her husband.

It is a lovely sight to behold brothers and sisters dwelling together in unity and love, each emulous only of outvying in acts of kindness towards the other, and all joining in paying duty, respect, and affection to those Brothers and sisters (and some I must be addressing) beloved parents who have given them birth. It is a lovely sight, but not always to be met with where fami- those of you who still share the same home, prize the lies assemble. It not unfrequently happens that the re- privileges you possess, cherish kindly and generous feelverse of this picture is the truth; that jealousies and ings towards each other, for the time may shortly come strife appear where love should dwell, and children in- || when you may be widely scattered; the parents whom stead of being a blessing to the authors of their existence you love taken from you by death, and the world look are their curse. The first crime we have recorded in cold upon you; then will the recollections of your youth sacred history (excepting that which caused our fall) awaken a fund of pleasures and sweet satisfaction which was the murder of a brother, and how many Cain's have the trials and disappointments of life cannot destroy.

"THE ADMIRABLE CRICHTON."

THE following extract from Mr. Ainsworth's new novel, a work not as yet published in America, will convey a lively idea of its general brilliant style. The reader of the whole work will find it a courtly romance of the times of Henri III. of France and Catherine de Medicis not the last days, but rather the paulo post of Gallic chivalry. The author not only shows himself familiar with the chronicles of that era, but writes in its very spirit, with, moreover, a highly dramatic and well sustained style. His Crichton is not, however, the hero of the schools, the premier wrangler of European dialecticians, but the phoenix of all preux chevaliers.

Editor.

THE LIST.

Accompanied by the Vicomte de Joyeuse, Crichton now rode into the champ clos appointed for the combat. Erected within a garden, or court, as it might more properly be termed, at the back of the Louvre, the lists were elevated to the height of the thigh-piece of the jousters, and extended to the length of sixty yards; while the space within the barriers being carefully sanded and cleared of all impediments, presented a very advantageous arena for the exhibition of knightly prowess.

let, and on the thousand dyes of banner and blazon; the soft breeze, tempered by the genial warmth of approaching spring, served with its freshening breath to give enthusiasm to the heart, and vigor to the frame; and so fully did Crichton feel the influence of these stirring thoughts, that spurring his charger he compelled him to perform a demi-volte in the air, and then to career round the arena. All was animation and excitement. The rustle of silks, the pleasant sound of gentle voices, the flash of brilliants from above, announced the arrival of the anges de paradis (as they were rapturously termed by the minstrels) in the balconies. Each casement of the Louvre poured forth its stream of beauty, and as our hero gazed upon those lovely and high-born dames, whose natural charms were heightened to the utmost, by the aid of costliest ornament and dress, he felt his bosom beat with redoubled ardor. Reining his steed, he paused to look around. On all sides were ranged dense masses of spectators, over whose uncovered heads bristled the glancing pikes and halberts of the sergeants. On the right of the royal gallery were arrayed the fourteen followers of the Baron D'Epernon, glistening in steel, and headed by the Baron himself; on the left, behind the scaffold of the astrologer, the sumptuous retinue of the Duc de Nevers. Bands of cavaliers, who, on the appearance of the dames on the balcony, regardless of the interdiction of the heralds, had dashed into the course, were now seen extending their lances towards its sides, whence fell a shower of wreathes, bracelets and scarf's, which were speedily attach

given to the king-of-arms and the marshals, whose province was to maintain a clear field; and the champions, waving their hands to the mistresses of their hearts,

Along the façade of the palace, on a level with the windows now thrown open, for the convenience of the spectators, was raised a temporary balcony, descending in wide steps, and hung with magnificent tapestry. Divided at certain distances, into open canoples fashioned of the richest brocade, decorated with fleurs-de-lysed to sallade and spear. Much occupation was thus ciphers and escutcheons, and fluttering with silken streamers, this balcony occupied one side of the quadrangular court. At the further extremity of the lists stood a grand roofed gallery, supported by heavy pillars, des-quitted the ring. Amid the subordinate officers of the tined for the reception of the three queens, their attendants and dames of honor. The curtains and hangings of this splendid structure were of gridelin velvet, flowered with ciphers of silver; displaying in the centre a vast argent shield, emblazoned with the royal escutcheon of France. At the right of the tilt-yard, was placed a scaffold, with palisades reserved for Montjoie, the kingof-arms, the marshals and judges of the field; and, next to this, under a canopy fretted with gold, ran a line of tabourets, set apart for the favorites of Henri III.; in the centre of which was a raised velvet fauteuil for his

tilt-yard, we must not omit to enumerate the pursuivants, the trumpeters with their clarions dressed with silken flags, and troops of minstrels stationed at each outlet.

ness.

A shout was now raised by the crowd, and the Scot's attention was directed towards the grand gallery, in which the Queen Louise and her demoiselles made their appearance. Amid the latter, Crichton at once distinguished Esclairmonde. The Princess of Condé, as we shall henceforth style her, was perfectly pale; but her want of color in no wise detracted from her loveliOn the contrary, she had never appeared so emiMajesty's own occupation. At either end stood two nently beautiful in the eyes of her lover; nor had he pavilions of striped silk for the use of the esquires, heretofore, as he thought, remarked so much dignity armourers, and other attendants of the combatants. and self-possession in her demeanor. In fact, the events Upon a low scaffold to the left of the grand gallery, of the last night, and the knowledge so recently and guarded by four officials, disguised in the ghastly leaden-mysteriously acquired of her exalted origin, had worked colored hood called the chaperon, and surrounded by a band of halberdiers, stood Ruggierin, with his hands folded upon his bosom, and his eyes fixed upon the ground.

Indicating to his retinue the position they were to occupy, Joyeuse rode through the entrance of the lists and joined the marshals of the field. Crichton followed more slowly. The breast of the Scot beat high as he gazed upon the inspiring scene. The morning was bright and beautiful; the sunbeams glanced on casque, on cors

a sudden but entire change in Esclairmonde's character. She was no longer an orphan maiden without a name, and without family. She now felt a pride, of which sho had been hitherto unconscious, kindled within her bosom; and a resolution, as yet wholly unknown to her, animate and sustain her spirits against the perils and difficulties to which she was exposed. This new-sprung courage was the more fully proved in the ordeal, to which she was shortly afterwards subjected in an interview with Catherine de Medicis, and Marguerite de Valois; both

of whom, with their attendants, now entered the gallery. || and taking his lance from his esquire, awaited the signal But her firmness failed her not in this trial; and she re- for the combat. turned the scrutinizing look of the Queen's Mother, with a glance as lofty as her own. Marguerite was all smiles and courtesy; but the smile of a rival is seldom to be trusted; and Crichton, who was well acquainted with Marguerite's talent for dissimulation, read in her professions of friendship, and winning attentions, the deadliest treachery. These greetings concluded, Esclairmonde, at the request of the Queen Louise, took the throne appointed for her as sovereign arbitress of the tourney—a chair placed a little in advance of the royal seats, and so situated as to make her the principal object of attraction to the spectators. Her costume was a robe of white damask, flowered with silver, with sleeves of snowy silk of the ample mode of the period, embroidered with roseate and green pearls. Never had Queen of the Lists appeared so attractive; and a murmur of admiration arose from the multitude as she became more fully revealed to their view.

At this moment the gaze of the princess fell upon the knightly figure of her lover, who, bending to his saddlebow, gracefully tendered his homage. As she returned his salutation, Esclairmonde trembled—and her courage entirely forsook her. Crichton perceived the change in her deportment; and anxious, if possible, to dissipate her anxiety, compelled his steed into its liveliest caracoles; and was about to quit the field, when his progress was arrested by loud cries of “ Noel! Noel!-vive|| le roi ?-vive le roi!" Fanfares of trumpets and the clash of cymbals succeeded, and Henri fully and inagnificently armed, entered into the arena. He was attended by the Marquis de Villiquier, Saint Lue, and a courtly throng. The royal charger (a snowy Arabian) was caparisoned with sweeping bardes of crimson vel

vet

Toutes chargees de riche orphaverie, and figured with golden fleurs-de-lys. Courteously saluting the Scot, and bidding him prepare for the signal of the combat, which would be shortly given, Henri directed his course towards the grand gallery, and addressing Esclairmonde, solicited a favor at her hands, that he might break a lance in her behalf. Unable to refuse his request, Esclairmonde took a string of pearls from her rich auburn tresses, and despatched it to the monarch by a page. Acknowledging the boon with a smile of gratification, and passing many well-turned compliments upon her charms, Henri proceeded to hold a brief conference with the Duc de Nevers.

Crichton, meantime, rode into the pavilion appropriated to his attendants; the hangings of which were closely drawn after him. Dismounting from his steed, he was presently joined by the Vicomte de Joyeuse, Montjoie, and Pierre de Gondi, by the latter of whom the customary oaths of the combat were administered. Kissing the crucifix and Te igliur, the Scot next submitted himself to his armorer, who riveted upon his cuirass a placcate of shining steel, similar to that borne by Gonzaga. Being thus fully equipped for the fight,|| notwithstanding the increased weight of his armor, he vaulted into the saddle without the aid of the stirrup;

Henri having by this time taken his seat beneath the canopy, gave with his baton a signal to Montjoie, the king-at-arms, who, attended by two heralds, advanced amidst a flourish of clarions and hautboys, towards the centre of the arena; and, commanding silence, proclaimed with a loud voice the names and titles of the appellant and the defendant, together with their cause of quarrel, prohibiting all persons whatsoever, on pain of death, from offering any interruption, by word or sign to the combat. Fresh fanfares of trumpets succeeded this ceremonial, during which all eyes had been fixed upon Ruggieri, who, though pale as death, maintained a composed and resolute demeanor, ever and anon stealing a glance towards the gallery, in which sat the Queen's Mother. Silence being once more restored, Montjoie cried aloud "Faites yos devoirs, chevaliers." On the third call, the curtains of the pavilions were swiftly drawn aside, and both knights issued forth, each taking up his position at the right of the barriers. Esclairmonde's bosom palpitated with emotion as she beheld the stately figure of her lover cased in steel, thus sudduenly set before her, and recognised her own gage upon his lance's point. Any fears she might have entertained for his safety vanished in his presence, and with a heart throbbing with expectation, she heard the first blast of the clarion sound for the hostile career. hush now reigned throughout the assemblage. Even the A profound royal tenants of the gallery rose and advanced towards its edge, and Marguerite de Valois disregarding Montjoie's injunction, leaned over the side of the balcony and waved her hand. Crichton perceived the action; and, unable otherwise to account for it, attributed it to some return of tenderness on the part of the impassioned queen. Again the trumpet sounded, and as this blast was blown Crichton struck his spurs into his steed, executing a demi-volte to the night, while he slightly raised his lance in the air, bringing the truncheon within a few inches of his thigh, in readiness for the career. In this action was displayed the unequalled grace and dexterity in the management of his steed, for which the Scot was so eminently distinguished. The martial notes of the clarion now resounded for the third time, and hurling a gauntlet to the ground, Montjoie shouted in a voice of thunder, "Laissez les aller!-laissez les aller !"

Swift as the bolt from the cloud, did Crichton, at this signal, speed from his post. As the steed started on his rapid career, the Scot, quick as thought, raised the truncheon of his lance to a level with his line of vision, and then firmly fixing it in its rest, declined its point towards the left ear of his charger, as he approached within some half dozen paces of his adversary, and directed his aim against the upper part of his helm. Both lances were shivered as the champions met in mid career. Gonzaga's mark had been the same as that of his antagonist, but the point of his lance glanced off the sharp gorget of the plastron; while the blow of Crichton, taking place upon the crest of the Prince, carried off the panache with which it was surmounted, and scat