of gratitude, and exclaimed, "You have then saved my child, and there is something left me in this world worth living for." The business of the Indians being speedily conducted, Col. Ormsby had the pleasure of carrying back to his adopted child, a mother in every way worthy of her. Lucy married well, and continued through life to honour and love her self-constituted father, while she became the comfort and solace of her unfortunate mother. Col. Ormsby used often to speak in his old age, of his nocturnal adventure in the forest. "Had I been a timid man," he would say, "that child would have either been devoured by the panthers, or have been brought up a savage. But stay, I am talking like a foolish old man-It was God himself who put it in my heart to follow the cry of human distress, and it is to him alone, that Lucy owes her wonderful preservation on that awful night. Let us give Him the glory of all our good achievements, while we take the blame of our evil ones upon ourselves.” C. MONTICELLO. When Spring unfolds her many colour'd robe, Yes, I love To gaze upon the scene, tho' all is mute; Hush'd are the sounds of childhood's mirthful voice Where now is that loved form, so often seen Among the sweets her fost'ring hand had spread; For her, whose virtues emulated his In life's domestic scenes. Whose graces shone For her, no peaceful haven is reserv'd Thro' ages' gath'ring cloud, or sorrow's gloom. VOL. II.-NO. V. Here science found within our southern clime, He rear'd her temple, while his waning life But all is now forgotten in the grave- While those, whose petty int'rests have absorb'd VIRGINIA. RECOLLECTIONS.-NO. 2. MY FRIEND MARY WILLIE, you re THE parents of my friend had died in her early childhood, before I knew her, and the little orphan girl was left to the real kindness of a wealthy relative, who cherished and educated her as if she were her own child. If collect Sir Walter's description of the little Moorish girl, in, I believe, Peveril of the Peak, it will afford you a very correct idea of Mary's person. She was not very pretty, being one of the darkest of brunettes, but in the essential points, good eyes, and good teeth," she certainly excelled. Her mind, and her heart, however, were beautiful and highly adorned. The far-famed academy at long been the favorite resort of the young ladies of its vicinity, and, until a rival seminary was established at a shorter distance from the metropolis, of those city misses, who wished to avail themselves of the benefits of country air and exercise, without relinquishing, for a while, their studies. It was here that Mary Willie was long distinguished by has her unaffected and lovely deportment, and by her proficiency in all the branches of science and the genteel accomplishments, which then constituted an elegant and finished education. Frank, generous, and affectionate, she was ardently beloved by her friends, among whom indeed, she might safely include the whole school. Of our mutual friendship, I had not purposed to relate any thing, as it would probably be utterly uninteresting to a third person-this however, I would say, that in affection and confidence we were as sisters; and when, on her quitting our village for a distant one, we exchanged farewells, it was with a mournful presentiment—we never met again. A while after Mary's departure, it was rumoured in our quiet town that "Mary Willie was receiving the addresses. of a graduate from college," (and when such an affair as "a courtship" is existing, then, invariably, does "Rumour hold her trumpet high And tell the story to the sky," invariably, in town or country) and then again, report was saying, "that she was soon to be married to the young student." But after some time the well-authenticated story came to us, that "Mary Willie, the young, and beloved Mary, was deserted by her friend, and that she was declining rapidly in a consumption. Charles Vaughan was gallant, and generous, and sensible, and the first in his class." He had loved Mary as other men love-ardently and she had loved him as women love-unchangeably. "She gave to him her innocent affections * "He left her—and in trouble she awoke From her bright dream of bliss, but murmured not To any one about her cruel lot. You would have deemed that he had been forgot Or thought her bosom callous to the stroke, But in her cheek there was one hectic spot, Those who knew Mary, and did not know Charles, concluded he must be a heartless villain to leave so youthful and lovely a girl to the hopelessness of disappointed affection-but Charles, though deficient in firmness and con stancy, was far from being heartless, or a villain. Mrs. Vaughan was a haughty and ambitious woman-proud of her family, and prouder of her son: it was when the beautiful, the accomplished, and richly endowed Miss Helen Montgomery made her appearance in Land particularly when (young and artless, and ignorant of his engagement as she undoubtedly was) she seemed to regard with much complacency the polished manners of the youthful collegian, that Mrs. Vaughan began to draw injurious comparisons between her and the unsuspecting Mary, who was then residing at a distance from L; and having established it in her own mind that Miss Helen would be the more suitable companion for her only son, she felt justified in employing all a mother's influence, and hers was as much as a mother ought to possess, to induce him to renounce his ill-starred engagement. Poor Charles was over-persuaded by his parent, whose will had ever been a law to him; his betrothed was not there to plead her own cause with the eloquence of her modest look; and as in thought he contrasted, her diminutive, though sylph-like figure with the graceful height of her rival, Miss Helen Montgomery, "a most magnificent " looking girl, he wavered, and heaven forgive him, as Mary Willie did, he broke his sacred vow. Thus were honor and affection sacrificed at the shrine of splendour and wealth-and will Charles Vaughan ever know prosperity or peace of mind again? And as for that gentle victim of a broken troth, "She bowed her head in quietness; she knew She "was composed to rest with many tears"-and her "fame is in the dark green tomb." There was a little ballad written after Mary's death, by one of our school-girls, who sincerely loved her and faithfully cherished her memory. The term "beautiful" seemed to be misapplied; but we could never prevail on her to exchange it. Indeed, Mary's face was so mild, so sweet, and her voice so melodious, that it was difficult for those who heard her speak, to believe she was otherwise than handsome. |