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The calls of duty and military disci- of revenge upon those who had so inpline vanished beneath the overpowering humanly sacrificed her. He came to force of love. He hastily muffled him- the forest which masked his station, and, self in his cloak, passed the cordon of passing through it, already beheld the sentinels, giving the word and counter- white tents glimmering in the morning sign, and plunged, with his guide, into light, when both his arms were seized the forest.

with an iron gripe. He looked and beheld two Austrian

renadiers—at the In an old ruinous farm-house, midway same time he saw the woods alive with between the two armies, on a rude and

the enemy, passing quickly and noisehumble bed, lay Eloise Von Steinheim, lessly among the trees, and preparing to as pale and corpse-like as though life overwhelm the post. had indeed deserted her wan and ema- “ Silence, or death !”—and they preciated frame. Still her eyes gleamed sented their bayonets to his bosom. with an intense ardour, and seemed to D’Assas took his resolution-he cared shew the fear that the mission of Lott

nought for life—the safety of the French chen was fruitless, and a last look of him army depended upon his efforts, and for whom she had endured such pangs drawing in his breath to add to the would be denied her. A step is heard power of his voice, he cried in a tone of --the door opens—it is he! She utters thundera faint cry-raises herself in her bed- “ To arms! Auvergne! the enemy !" and falls back senseless into his support- He fell, pierced with bayonets. But ing arms.

the French were roused, and before the What were the feelings of D’Assas, Austrians could extricate themselves as he looked upon that shrunken, livid from the wood, and form in the open face, and endeavoured to trace in it the ground beyond, they poured in from the lineaments of his beloved! How he encampment, and after a sharp and short writhed inwardly in spirit, and felt his skirmish, drove back the assailants with love for her mingled with the gall of great slaughter. The Austrians retreatbitterness, as he thought of her misfor- ed precipitately from the wood, were purtunes and their author! Was she, who sued by the infuriated French to the now lay like an inanimate weight upon river side, and would have been annihihis arm, the same beautiful one whom lated but for a corps de reserve that crosshe had watched in silent ecstasy thread- ed the river in time to succour their ing the mazy dance, like a form of air; comrades. This was the last action of and enchanting his seemingly inattentive the campaign. ear with the sweet music of her voice, rendered more fascinating by the attrac- But D'Assashe was found by the tions of wit and sense, till his heart was French advance, lying at the foot of a gone far away out of his keeping, ere he tree, while his life-blood dyed red the dreamed of love? These and a thou herbage around him. Pierrot, the sous sand thoughts rushed at once upon his lieutenant, first perceived his commandmind.

ing officer, and running up to him, She moved-opened her eyes_mur- loosened his vest, to find the wound and mured his name - and was again a attempt to stanch the flow of blood. heavy weight in his arms. She had D’Assas pressed his hand convulsively expired.

to his bosom-looked with a sign of reHe gazed with fixed and glassy eye cognition at Pierrot, and expired. upon her stiffening form-uttered a few On removing his hand and examinwords---cut off a ringlet of auburn hair ing the wound, a long lock of hair was that hung curling over her snowy fore- found in it, soaked in blood so that the head-placed it in his bosom-and strode colour could not be distinguished. It. from the apartment into the open fields. seemed as if the bayonets bad forced it The faithful Lottchen flung herself up

into his breast, in their deadly passage on the body of her mistress in a paroxysm to his heart. of grief.

Thus did D'Assas satisfy the call of The east began to brighten with the love and honour. Of Eloise Von Steingray of the morning, and D’Assas swift- heim and her obdurate father nothing ly measured the intervening space that more is known, or whether her remains separated him from his post. Distracted lie near the lonely farm-house, or in the with the overwhelming loss of his loved gorgeous tomb of her fathers in the capione, he moved rapidly on over the dewy tal of Westphalia ; but in the subsequent herbage, unconscious alike to every ob- flight of the nobles of that country, after ject around him, and meditating plans the retreat of the army of the prince of


Condé and the emigrés, before the vic- world they have never entered. Within torious generals Hoche and Dumouriez, this life, narrowed to so small a space unhe is supposed to have fled to England, der the clouds and over the abyss, every and passed in dependent exile, the end thing is animated for the mariner : an of that life, whose prime he had disgraced anchor, a sail, a mast, a cannon, are the by the death of his daughter.

creatures of his affections, and have each Louis xvi. granted a perpetual pen- their history.—That sail was shivered sion to the eldest male branch of the on the coast of Labrador; the master family of D’Assas, in commemoration of sailsman mended it with the piece you his heroism. But the mighty revolu- That anchor saved the vessel, when tion succeeding with the destruction of all the other anchors were lost in the the king, involved the ruin of all his midst of the coral rocks of the Sandwich courtiers and dependents, and the pen- Isles—That mast was broken by a hursion was discontinued. But when Na- ricane off the Cape of Good Hope; it poleon assumed the reins of government, was but one single piece, but it is much he, with that magnanimity for which the stronger now that it is composed of two world at this late hour have just begun pieces— The cannon which you see is the to extol him, revived the pension to the only one which was not dismounted at the heirs of D’Assas, and remitted it punc- battle of the, Chesapeake.' Then the tually through good and evil fortune, most interesting news a board—The till his star was blotted out from among log has just been thrown-the vessel is the lights of the earth, and the ruler be- going ten knots an hour - the sky is came a captive. Since then, to the reign clear at noon - an observation has been of Louis Philip, it has been regularly taken-they are at such a latitude-so paid; and it is an honest boast of the many leagues have been made in the enthusiastic Frenchman, that with such right direction--the needle declines, it a reward, merit knows not age, and is at such a degree--the sand of the waits not for posterity.

sand-glass passes badly, it threatens With these remarks, I close this hur rain-flying-fish have been seen towards ried sketch, and add, that if we consider the south, the weather will become the situation of D’Assas, when silence calm ;—the water has changed its cowould have purchased life, and death lour-pieces of wood have been seen was the certain doom of breaking it, but floating by sea-gulls and wild-ducks where honour triumphed over the love have been seen a little bird has perched of life, and impelled him to self sacrifice upon the yards—it is necessary to stand —when we consider this, we must con- out to sea, for they are nearing the fess it to be as strongly marked an ex- land, and it is dangerous to approach it ample of voluntary heroism, as ancient during the night. Among the poultry or modern times can produce. In the is a favourite sacred cock which has surmind of the writer, the stand of Leoni. vived all the others; it is famous for das at Thermopylæ, the plunge of Curtius having crowed during a battle, as if in into the yawning gulf, or the constancy a farm yard in the midst of its hens, of the martyrs in the early ages of chris- Under the decks lives a cat of tortoisetianity, do not surpass the celebrated coloured skin, bushy tail, long stiff musact of the Chevalier D’Assas. N.Y.M. taches, firm on its feet, and caring not

for the rolling of the vessel: it has twice HABITS OF SAILORS. made the voyage round the world, and

saved itself from a wreck on a cask. “ Sailors have a passion for their ves. The cabin boys give to the cock biscuits sel. They weep with regret on quitting soaked in wine; and the cat has the priit, and with tenderness on returning to vilege of sleeping, when it likes, in the it. They cannot remain with their fa- hammock of the first lieutenant.' milies. After having sworn a hundred “ The aged sailor resembles the aged times to expose themselves no more to labourer. Their harvests are different, the sea, they find it impossible to live it is true; the sailor has led a wandering away from it, like a young lover who life, the labourer has never left his field, cannot tear himself from the arms of a but they both consult the stars, and prefaithless and stormy mistress. In the dict the future in ploughing their furdocks of London and Plymouth it is not rows; to the one the lark, the redbreast, rare to find sailors born on board ship; and nightingale—to the other, the albafrom their infancy to their old age they tross, the curlew, and the kingfisher, have never been on shore, and have are prophets. They retire in the evennever seen the land but from the deck ing, the one to his cabin, the other into of their floating cradle: spectators of the his cottage: frail tenements, but where


the hurricane which shakes them, does port--the name of the captain—where not agitate their tranquil consciences. he comes from—where he is bound for • In the wind tempestuous blowing, how many days his passage has lasted, Still no danger they descry;

and what are his observations on the The guiltless heart, its boon bestowing, longitude and latitude. These are the Soothes them with its lullaby.

questions— Good voyage.' The sails Lullaby,' &c. &c. are unbrailed, and belly to the wind. “ The sailor knows not where death The sailors and passengers of the two will surprise him, or on what coast he vessels follow each other with their eyes, may leave his life. Perhaps he will without saying a word; these going to mingle his last sigh with the wind, at- seck the sun of Asia, those the sun of tached to a raft to continue his voyage; Europe, which will equally see them perhaps he will be interred on a desert die. Time carries away and separates island, which one may never light upon travellers upon the earth more promptly again, as he slept alone in his hammock still than the wind separates those upon in the middle of the ocean. The vessel the ocean. They also make signs of is itself a spectacle. Sensible to the adieu from afar--good voyage—the comslightest movement of the helm, an hip- mon port is Eternity.-Blackwoods Mag. pogriff or winged courser, it obeys the hand of the pilot, as a horse the hand of

MISCELLANIES. its rider. The elegance of the masts and cordages, the agility of the sailors who cluster about the yards, the different It is very easy to cherish, like Sterne, aspects in which the ship presents itself, the sensibilities that lead to no sacrifice,

- whether it advances leaning upon the and to no inconvenience. Most of those water by a contrary wind, or flies that are so vain of their five feelings are straight forward before a favourable persons loving themselves very dearly, breeze,-make this scientific machine and having a violent regard for their felone of the wonders of the genius of man. low-creatures in general, though caring Sometimes the waves break against its little or nothing for the individuals sides, and dash up their spray; some- about them. Of sighs and tears they times the tranquil water divides without are profuse, but niggardly of their resistance before its prow. The flags, money and their time.-Sharp's Essays. the lights, the sails, complete the beauty EXPORTATION of this palace of Neptune. The main

IN THE YEAR 1620. sails, unfurled in all their breadth, belly" The enterprising colonists,” says out like vast cylinders; the top-sails, Holmes, “ being generally destitute of reefed in the midst, resemble the breasts families, Sir Edward Sandys, the treaof a mermaid. Animated by impetu. surer, proposed to the Virginia Compa. ous wind, the vessel with its keel, as ny to send over a freight of young with the share of the plough, furrows women to become wives for the planters. with a mighty noise the fields of the The proposal was applauded; and ninety

girls, young and uncorrupt,' were sent “ On these vast paths of the deep, over in the ships that arrived this year, along which are seen neither trees, nor and the year following sixty more, handvillages, nor cities. nor towers, nor some and well recommended to the comspires, nor tombs-on this causeway pany for their virtuous education and without columns, without mile-stones, demeanour. The price of a wife, at the which has no boundaries but the waves, first, was one hundred pounds of tobacco : no relays but the winds, no lights but but as the number became scarce the the stars—the most delightful of adven- price was increased to one hundred and tures, when one is not in quest of lands fifty pounds, the value of which, in and seas unknown, is the meeting of two money, was three shillings per pound. vessels. The mutual discovery takes This debt for wives, it was ordered, place along the horizon by the help of a should have the precedency of all other telescope; then they make sai] towards debts, and be first recoverable.” Aneach other. The crews and the passen- other writer says, “that it would have gers hurry upon the deck. The two done a man's heart good to see the galships approach, hoist their flags, braillant young Virginians hastening to the half up their sails, and lay themselves water side, when a ship arrived from alongside of each other. All is silence; London, each carrying a bundle of the the two captains, from the poop, hail best tobacco under his arm, and each each other with speaking trumpets, taking back with him a beautiful and • The name of the vessel- from what virtuous young wife."






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A MIDNIGHT INVITATION. Anthony Wood might have idolized; (For the Parterre.)

and though at the time of our first

acquaintance he was in his twenty-sixth “ Lonnan is the devil.”- Old Song. year, an age at which most young men During my noviciate in the office of begin at least to talk of that blissful state, Mr. Latitat, in King's Bench Walk, he always heard of matrimony, not with Temple, I became acquainted with a abhorrence but with absolute terror. young man, who was managing clerk to Poor Harvey had been left an orphan an attorney in the neighbourhood. Our at a tender age, and he and his brother, acquaintance commenced at a tavern in who was three years younger than himFleet-street, where I was in the habit self, were, after being sent to school by of taking my quotidian chop or steak, a distant relation, turned out in the and though he was my senior by several world to seek their fortunes; the eldest years I contracted a friendship for him having been articled to an attorney, which, luckily, I had never cause to re- while his brother, with some difficulty, gret. I say luckily, because I have now procured a situation as clerk in the grown older and more cautious, and counting-house of a merchant in Mincshould certainly not look for chums in a ing-lane, from whose employment he was,

however, soon discharged for dishonesty. Philip Harvey (for such was his This was a dreadful shock to Philip; name) was a very intelligent fellow, a and he who had at one time consoled good scholar, and possessed of consider- himself with the reflection that he was able learning; but he was, to use the not left alone in the world, now almost words of Chaucer, “as modest as a young wished that he had no brother. With maiden,” and these qualities were never some difficulty he procured a situation perceived by the superficial observer. as captain's clerk for the unfortunate One thing, however, which I had always boy, and then steadily applied himself looked upon as a drawback, must be told to the duties of his profession. Ilis of my friend: he was,— ah me! how assiduity and attention obtained for him much I dread to tell it-an obdurate the esteem and confidence of his embachelor, one whom the celibacy-loving ployers, and lie would have been happy “ pray


but for the thought of his brother, who already numerous family-celibacy for turned out a thorough scoundrel, and ever!” caused him a world of uneasiness.

His soliloquy was cut short by a vioNot to tire the reader with a relation lent ring at the street door bell, to of all the pranks of this graceless fellow, which, at that hour, as might be supit will be sufficient to say, that he ra- posed, the servant did not pay prompt pidly sunk lower and lower in vice, and attention. It was repeated again and became a finished vagabond. No one, again, when a window was thrown up, says Juvenal, ever became suddenly and the ringer was asked who he very base; but the rapidity with which wanted. men pass from bad to worse has often “I want to see Mr. Harvey immedibeen remarked. All at once he disap- ately,” replied the disturber; peared, and his brother's purse, which wake him at once-every minute is of had been so constantly drained, was no consequence. longer exposed to his repeated attacks. “My rascal of a brother !” exclaimed Philip knew not what had become of Philip, as he reluctantly turned out of him, but though he would have been bed, having distinctly heard the converrelieved by the news of his death, he sation below—What the devil can he was uneasy while in ignorance of his want at this hour? Could not he wait fate.

till the morning ?” And then he began Philip Harvey kept a good library of to utter sundry, anti-fraternal threats bebooks at his lodgings, and spent his tween his teeth, which chattered like a evenings in study; and although the pair of castanets. good people with whom he lodged smiled At length he descended, and beheld at his sedate habits, his old-fashioned in the hall, which the servant had taken way as they termed it, they admired care not to leave after she had acquainted his quiet and unobtrusive manner. him with the message, a very suspicious Those hours which many young men in looking personage, wrapped up to the large cities generally spend in the ta- chin in an old white great coat. verns and theatres, were devoted to the

• Is your name Harvey, sir?” inperusal of the best authors in the anci- quired the messenger, keeping his broad ent and modern languages; but his brimmed hat on, from under which a thoughts often wandered from them to pair of large black eyes, luminous as an his abandoned brother.

owl's, gleamed with a most sinister exBut let it not be supposed that Philip pression. Harvey was a sour and taciturn fellow. “ Yes," replied our bachelor, yawnHe loved a joke, and his wit was bril- ing; “what, in the name of all that's liant: he might have “set the table in a abominable, do you want with me at roar," but he was not fond of feasting ; this unseasonable hour ?" he was not unsocial, but he abhorred “ Your brother 's at the point of company."

death!” said the man in a serious tone; One cold winter's night, when the “and he has sent me to beg that you snow was on the ground, our bachelor will come and forgive him before he lay snugly in his warm bed awake and die!” thoughtful. During the day I had Poor Harvey was thunderstruck. His joked him on his anti-matrimonial no- brother's wicked courses were forgotten, tions, which he parried with his usual and he mechanically hurried on his dexterity. He was now ruminating on great coat without asking another questhat conversation,

tion. In less than five minutes he was “ Ah!” said he, mentally, “'t is a in the street with his sinister looking fine dream to be sure, and it has entailed guide. much misery on better and wiser men The cold was intense, and the pavethan myself; but are not these things a ment was slippery with the frozen snow, warning to those who come after them? but Harvey thought only of his brother, Comfort, indeed! it's impossible. No though there blew a piercing wind which time for study or reflection.”

made him shiver. His guide walked At this moment a hasty step sounded fast, and was soon in the purlieus of the in the street under his window, and the great theatres, a neighbourhood replete watchman bawled “ half-past one!” with every abomination to be found in

- Ah !” said Harvey, “there's some this overgrown metropolis. But the unhappy wight disturbed out of a sound fellow did not stop here, and Harvey sleep by the cries of his wife, who was too much agitated to make any threatens him with an addition to his inquiries; his mind was occupied only

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