ye!"

As ye give the victory, your happiness and honour, or your inward wretchedness and self-abasement, must be the result."

It was to

But it was not to write a tale of animated amusement, a story of gentle admonition, which were her only motives when taking up the pen in her little boudoir of deep retirement. cheer a drooping heart that sat near her; it was to disperse the tears of affliction from beloved eyes looking on her; it was to say to that disconsolate

mourner,

"Intreat me not to leave thee! whi

ther thou goest, I will go; where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy lot shall be my lot: the Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and

me!"

Nov. 1834.

YOUNG HEARTS.

CHAPTER I.

"THOU art sadly changed of late, my gentle Cathleen," said the volatile Mary Belville, as, with a light step, and a still lighter heart, she entered her dressing-room, followed by a young female of exquisite beauty. "Tell me," she said, playfully taking the hand of her companion, " tell me it is but a freak of the little blind god, and I will pardon thy fretful humour, and strive to make thee once again my own merry Cathleen."

A deep blush mantled on the cheek of

VOL. I.

B

Cathleen. Not daring to meet the enquiring glance of her lovely friend, her eyes were fixed steadfastly upon a bunch of fresh gathered flowers, she had brought from home to grace the fair bosom of her foster-sister, and which she now held almost unconsciously in her hand.

"Thou art silent, Cathleen," said Mary, thoughtfully; "there is more in this sadness than a being light and gay as I am, can guess at; but I will not chide thee, my sweet sister, and kind friend," she continued, "for thou hast, doubtless, cause for thy present dulness; and yet, methinks, thou art over-careful of thy secret."

Cathleen raised her dark eyes to the face of the speaker with a look in which anger and deep affection were strongly blended. "Do not think," she said, while her voice trembled

from emotion," that I give way to this painful and oppressive lowness without a cause; if a sigh escapes this bosom when the kindness of my friends should claim a smile, it is because grief is so deeply seated there, that never in this world a single ray of cheerfulness can enter it. I am not ungrateful, dearest Mary," she continued, "for thy love! My heart has long ceased to throb with the blissful feelings of youth, yet its fond, its devoted affection is as truly thine as ever."

Mary pressed the weeping girl within her arms. Her own bright and sunny features no longer wore the smile of happiness. She thought of the honest creature who had been a mother to her in the fretful hours of helpless infancy. For her sake, had Cathleen been even less dear to her, she would have given the world to have possessed the power