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to consult feeling alone, where reason and judgment might have preserved him from error. Extremely sensitive as to the opinion of the world, yet prepared to brave its censure to the utmost when confident of his own integrity; ambitious to excel in every thing; bowing in adoration at the shrine of genius, and loving with enthusiasm all that is sublime and beautiful in nature or art; a passionate admirer of female beauty, especially when united with intellectual attainments; and eager and persevering in every pursuit that interested. the heart or mind. Such was Howard at the age of twenty. What he yet might become, moulded by the hand of time, and the influence of society, the future alone could decide. The dinner hour arrived-but the dining table did not afford opportunity of cultivating much acquaintance with the strangers. Other parties from the city had arrived in the meantime, and all were too much occupied in recognizing acquaintances and exchanging congratulations. Fatigued with their long journey, the ladies were not very conversible. As Howard glanced at the countenances of the three first arrivals, he knew not which to admire most-the dashing, fashionable looking Cornelia; the timid, gentle, and exquisitely beautiful Laura; or she whose countenance he had hardly seen, so deeply was she engaged in conversation with the Colonel, and whom the provoking Beaumont persisted in calling "the muse." As for the dandy, he had reserved all his attractions for the evening, when he expected to appear the very pink of gentility and fashion. His whiskers were brushed and rebrushed, until they settled into the wished-for position. His cravat was twisted and turned into an indisputable "Paris tie." His moustache-what real dandy does not wear a moustache-turned up at each end like the prow of an Egyptian galley, and his eye-brows were delicately penciled with India ink. He had for months been torturing a particular curl, that it might rest with careless ease upon his white forehead- having been told that Miss Stanbrook had expressed her admiration of this particular curl, and said it would look nicely in a ring. Satisfied, at length, that his appearance would justify the appellation so often bestowed upon him, viz., that of being a “lady-killer," he turned round to ascertain what progress his friend Howard was making in the art of beautification, and to his horror, saw him seated in a large arm-chair, deeply absorbed in a volume of Longfellow's poems, utterly unconscious of

the flight of time, and the necessity of beginning "the busy work of dreadful preparation." "Fred," exclaimed the disınayed exquisite, "Do you know that it is nine o'clock ?" "Well, what of it?"

"What of it?-why, the ball must have commenced some time. The beautiful Laura will be snapped up in the twinkling of an eye, and then what are you to do for a partner?" "Are there no ladies except Miss Laura ?" “None worth noticing."

"Not even the Muse ?"

“The Muse! why, you would not think of paying her any attention!" "Why not?"

So you

"Humph! pshaw! don't ask me. care not for the ball, and will not dance-noI dare say you would rather sit there and pore over that collection of impositions! A quantity of German ideas arranged in English words, and passing for original! Ma foi! if you must read, why not choose something worth having! the sorrows of Oliver Twist, or the trials of divine Kate Knickleby. Gad! if that girl were a living, breathing creature, I should be almost tempted to cut the heiress for her sake. Give me Boz, with all his pathos, wit and fun, and all other books may go into the fire."

"I bow most humbly to your superior judgment," said Howard, gravely; "and when wearied of strains like these, will search those sublime pages to ascertain how many times in the day a man-monster like Quilp drank raw brandy by the quart, or intellectual Dick Swiveler 'supped the rosy,' or courted 'the balmy.' No sir," continued the young man, while a flush of honest and indignant feeling suffused his countenance-" while my native land sends forth into the field such worthy sons as the author of this, (unclosing the volume before him,) with minds stored with those pure and lofty thoughts which refine and elevate not only their own souls, but those of their readers, I am content to cast an idle glance at your favorite themes, and bow in adoration at a shrine like this. The public taste has become completely vitiated by your scurilous foreign trash, while our native authors are neglected, and too often left to suffer. The more elegant paths of literature are abandoned, and society, in consequence, becomes corrupt. I tell you the works of French, German, and many English writers, are calculated to make more rogues, than all the sermons of good men can make saints; I tell you—"

"Nay, spare me, in mercy spare me!" cried

Beaumont stopping his ears. "My delicate nerves are all unstrung. How uninviting is your discussion of books and authors, when I have in anticipation the discussion of a fat turkey and oyster sauce."

Howard threw down the book he held, and laughed, not so much at the ridiculous appearance and remarks of his companion, as at his own folly in wasting his eloquence upon such a listener. But a few moments sufficed to equip himself for the evening, and they entered the ball-room together. The young lawyer, who generally shunned such a scene in the city, as he would a modern Babel, had made up his mind to amuse himself during his few weeks of recreation at the springs, and therefore quietly submitted to be led about by his idle associate, on condition that there should be no infringement upon his chosen hours of leisure and retirement. There was, however, an additional reason that now actuated him-the wish to become better acquainted with the three graces, whose different characters appeared worth studying, not only from his own observation, but the careless remarks of Beaumont. Cornelia Stanbrook was parading the room with a dashing captain of the army. The fair Laura, dressed with exquisite taste, in white silk, a single japonica in her soft, golden hair, sat upon a sofa, conversing with her uncle. The Muse was no where to be seen, and on interrogating his companion as to the probable cause of her absence, he was answered only by an expressive shrug of the shoulders, followed by a long drawn breath as if Beaumont felt a sort of relief at the circumstance. Howard was disappointed-he scarce knew why. The hints of his friend, and his singular conduct whenever her name was mentioned, excited his curiosity respecting her, and he longed, yet feared to encounter this fair magician. The dancing had already commenced, and not caring to join the group of young men into which Beaumont instantly intruded, he stood leaning against a window, until observing that Colonel Stanbrook had left the side of his niece, and that she had refused invitation to dance, he took the vacant seat, and after a mutual bow of recognition, entered into conversation with

her.

Howard gazed in admiration upon the beau tiful girl over whose clear cheek the blushes came and went rapidly while speaking, and thought he had never seen any thing so lovely. And yet he could not help confessing to himself that it was a beauty of features alone. There was no lighting up of the countenance— no change in the expression of the fair face, nc matter what might be the subject of discourse; it retained as calm and placid a repose as the serene image of the Madona. There might be feeling-there might be genius-but it was difficult to discover either from her manner or conversation-and though the eye might peruse such features with delight, yet the heart desires something more-the mind wearies with the effort made to discover the hidden treasures of thought.

Yet there was a charm, notwithstanding, in the innocent naive manner with which she replied to his remarks, (for she seldom hazarded one of her own,) and her answers were mostly in monosylables. He was becoming more and more interested in his lovely listener, and quite forgetting the scene around him, when she suddenly raised her head and joyfully exclaimed

"Ah, there's Inez!-I was afraid she would not come."

"And who is Inez ?" asked Howard, somewhat surprised at the animation of her countenance.

"Oh a dear friend of mine-do not move, Mr. Howard. You must become acquainted with Inez she is so much like you--I mean-that is, you would agree exactly-and I am sure you will like her, she is so agreeable"-and as she spoke, she lifted to Howard's face those eyes of celestial blue, and a bright smile played around her lips which caused him to think others might be more agreeable, but none more lovely than herself.

"Your friend must be very charming" said he, "to call forth so warm an eulogy."

"Charming! ah you will think so, when you know her as well as I do,” replied Laura, smiling. "And then it was so difficult to persuade her to come here at all. She says she is out of place among such gay people. But my uncle insisted upon it, and says he brought her to

"You do not dance this evening, I perceive, drive away the blues. I verily believe he would Miss Laura."

have them all the time if she were not with him--for her reading entertains him."

"My health has not been good for some time," replied the young lady. This was my "Oh," thought Howard, "This is the pedant reason for visiting the springs, and my physician then. Well, I should prefer the society of her advises me to refrain from all violent exercise." less pretending friend, the quiet Laura, if she

is what Beaumont describes." Then turning again to his companion, he began a long dissertation upon Fanny Ellsler and the Opera.

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Surely you do not deny the merits of her performance!" exclaimed Beaumont, as he joined them after the dance, and overheard a remark of Howard, in which he intimated his dislike of foreign dancers, and foreign actresses. "I did not allude either to the merits or demerits of her performance," replied Howard, quietly, I was only giving my opinion of the conduct and character of women, who can go about the world exhibiting themselves in this manner. They may be miracles of perfection, as far as talents and beauty are concerned, and so is she, for all I know to the contrary."

"But if a woman possesses extraordinary talents, you would not have her hide them under a bushel, when she might astonish the world, and draw admiring crowds around her by displaying them publicly."

"Were a woman's talents given her only for the purpose of making herself a laughing stock, and exposing her to the ribald jests of a parcel of rowdy pit boys ?" said Howard. "No Sir, I will not believe it. If heaven has thus favored her, it is that she may employ those tallents for the benefit of others; not only to become wiser and better herself, but to make others wise and happy. I would not give much for the refined feelings of any woman, who for a mere love of admiration can thus sacrifice both delicacy and propriety."

"What a sermon you have preached," said Beaumont laughing. "And only think Fred," he added in a whisper, "only think-the 'Muse' has heard every word of it. She has been standing near you all the time."

Howard started-and colored in confusion not only at the rude remark which he felt confident had been overheard by the lady in question; but at the bright beaming, soul-illumined glance that met his as he turned round. He had admired Laura, but he at once acknowledged to himself the truth of the remark, that the most perfect beauty was not that which the sculptor would admit to be a faultless piece of elay kneaded up with blood. But that is true beauty which has not only substance but spirit -a beauty that we must intimately know, justly to appreciate a beauty lighted up in conversation, where the mind shines as it were through the casket; where, in the language of the poet,

"The eloquent blood spoke in her cheeks-
And so distinctly wrought,

That we might almost say her body thought."

"You have overheard Mr. Howard's sage remarks, have you not, Miss Inez, and are prepared to oppose them entirely ?" said Beaumont, with a sneer.

"On the contrary, I agree with him perfectly," replied the lady; and the voice, the look, the manner with which she said this, ap peared to Howard bewitching.

'Agree with him!" exclaimed Beaumont, astonished; "I thought you were a great stickler for genius, talent, and all that sort of thing."

"I do not know that my assenting to Mr. Howard's opinion implies anything to the contrary," answered Inez, smiling; and then turning to Laura, she inquired, with a look of tender interest, if she were not fatigued.

"Oh not in the least, dear Inez. Mr. Howard has been so good as to keep me company in my lonely corner here, and we have amused ourselves with watching the movements of the fair dancers.

"Mr. Howard is not then a lover of the poetry of motion ?"

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I prefer being a spectator and admirer," replied he.

"Especially in such company," observed Beaumont, bowing to Inez with mock gravity. "I am equally happy either way," replied Howard; "for who could help being pleased, or at least amused, in such a scene?"

"And yet," observed Inez, seating herself by the fair Laura, and glancing round the room; "it speaks only to the senses. The pleasure that such scenes afford is as evanescent as the hours are fleeting. It is but mixing a little honey with the bitter cup of life."

Howard was surprised to hear a creature so beautiful and bright, speak of the sadder scenes of life. "I should," said he, “imagine you one of those who look only to the sunny side of the picture, and who scarcely realize the truth that comes home to the hearts of others, that the golden chalice does not always overflow with joy."

"Ah, we are all the spoiled children of nature," said Inez; "subject to caprices and vagaries, willing to enjoy illusion when truth would be unwelcome. But look at that beautiful creature! what grace in every movement! What a study for painting or poetry! She seems like a fine statue, animated with a living soul."

"What a beautiful idea!"

"How many living, breathing forms we meet in society, who better resemble marble images than animated beings; and how many a statue

do we see that seems to require only a touch to inspire it with a soul."

"It is very true," replied Howard. "Our Republican society is becoming as artificial and aristocratic as European. There is little of nature among us at present. Our habits, our manners, and our pursuits, all appear to be guided by conventional rules."

"What is to be done to remedy the evil?" asked Inez, raising her bright eyes to his, while an arch smile passed over her countenance.

"Indeed, I know not," replied Howard. "Folly seldom listen's to reason's voice, and it is better to take the world as it is, than attempt its reformation."

"And sip the honey, while we taste freely of the bitters. I will set you the example," and accepting an invitation to join in a quadrille just forming, Inez vanished, while Colonel Stanbrook returning, took the vacant seat by the side of his niece. Howard gazed after the graceful figure of Inez, till it was lost in the crowd. "What a strange, wayward being!" thought he, and then remarked aloud,

"Your friend, Miss Laura, seems to enjoy the amusements of the evening; how happy she appears."

"Her nature was formed for happiness, but she has not always found it," said Colonel Stanbrook; and then changing the subject, he pointed to a group of gentlemen who stood near: "Look at that trio, Mr. Howard," said he, "one would think they were settling the affairs of the nation, so eager and animated are their gestures."

"If their discussions would result in any good" said Howard, "I should hope they would continue, for our country seems to have reached a solstice which requires an experienced hand to snatch it from ruin."

"Yes, hand and head too," replied the Colonel. "That is any head but a blockhead, for some of our speakers have been left upon their legs, harranguing to an empty house, our wise councillors becoming fatigued with the two hours speech, without an original idea in the whole." "And a ball room” said Howard "is about as proper a place for political discussion as the London Opera house, where cabinet secrets are so often divulged without reflecting upon who may be the listeners. This talking and fighting for office, seems to me derogatory to the dignity of any man of sense. How often does it create animosity among friends-ruin the happiness of families, and too often result in the ruin of the constituents themselves."

"How diverting it is" said Colonel Stanbrook "to watch the variety of character in a crowd ed ball-room. Look at that lady; in reality a good figure-but so overloaded with ornaments, and so ill dressed, that it cannot appear to ad vantage. Why will the fair sex delight in making themselves moving automatons?" "Why uncle," said Laura, "they have no idea but that they are looking beautiful.”

"And how greatly they mistake the matter, Laura. Vanity is woman's master passion. Fashion has usurped a fearful dominion over nature, and the fair puppets will never listen to reason while their will is against it. Women are changeful and capricious. There are no two alike in manners, disposition or dress. Go into a church, or any other public place, and you will find the men nearly all alike in their apparel, while the women display all the colors of the rainbow. A woman seems to study every change and variety, as the whim seizes her."

"What a scandalous libel on our sex, uncle!" "Ah, Cornelia, I should have spared it, had I known you were within hearing, as I have given you sufficient lectures on the subject already."

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"Then the present was for the benefit of Laura, or Mr. Howard, I suppose. But I am tired to death. I sometimes wish it were in our power to annihilate those who annoy us, I would cut dead some dozen of my acquaintance."

"Tut, tut, girl, what's the matter now?"

"Why there's those Seymours, from New York-mere nobodies, yet putting on such airs! it is really ridiculous! Then there's the L- -s whose father was a shoemaker, or some such thing-flourishing in their carriages, and pushing themselves where they've no business—— and the S--s who cheat every body, and whose brother married a carpenter's daughter. Then the Mellons, who set up for blues, and are always boasting of their acquaintance with the talented and beautiful Mrs. somebody, and Miss nobody the great, and showing the poetry written to them by Mrs. S, and the autograph of Mr. J- and talking like Miss Edgeworth's heroines; and there's the Lindsays

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"Stop there, Cornelia. Mr. Lindsay is a friend of mine, and although his wife and daughters sometimes expose themselves to rude remarks, you are not the person to make them. Here we see the evils of public entertainments. How much envy and jealousy are excited, how'

many bad feelings are engendered, particularly in the minds of the young, by visiting such places as this."

Cornelia tossed her head.-"In pity uncle, spare us an enumeration of the curses entailed upon pleasure seekers. I came here to enjoy myself, and will do penance for my faults tomorrow, by listening to a long chapter of reproofs or still worse-a whole canto of poetry, from your pet, Inez. Apropos-she has charmed that handsome foreigner from my side this evening. I wish you would keep her here among you, and not let her interfere with my conquests! And here she comes, to be surewith the coolest indifference toward her partner and every one else! Leaning on his arm too, so familiar. What affectation! I detest coquetry."

“Cornelia, I am surprised at you," said Laura. "You know that Inez has not a spark of coquetry in her disposition. She is as free from that, as from every other fault ;" and the fair cheek of the young girl, became crimson in defence of her friend.

"Oh, she's a paragon," said Cornelia, with a toss of her head; and with this remark, she whirled off in a new waltz with a new admirer, and the music pealed forth a livelier strain.

A learned writer remarks that "we should not judge of character by small peculiarities." Howard thought otherwise. A few short hours had brought him in contact with three individuals, of whose character he imagined he had already formed a correct opinion. Unlike in every particular, both in beauty, mind, and manners, yet each possessing charms which individually attracted the admiration of society.

Ere midnight, the gay hall was deserted; the lamps had burned dim-roses faded from the cheeks of the belles, and the beaux were fatigued with their arduous duties of paying attention to their fair ones; the flowers drooped their heads in sympathy with the heavy lids of their wearers; silence reigned where music had triumphed, and tired limbs longed for repose.

Thus closed an evening at the Springs.

[To be continued.]

WOMAN'S FORTITUDE.

BY MRS. ANNA L. SNELLING.

ARIA, a Roman lady, was the wife of Caan Pætus, whose fortitude and conjugal affection have immortalized her name. Several acts of noble firmness were crowned by that which terminated her existence. Her husband, having rebelled against Claudius, was ordered to destroy himself. Seeing him hesitate, Aria plunged the poniard into her own breast, to give him the courage, and then presented it to him, saying, at the same time, "Patus, it is not painful."

Her tears were dried, her arm was raised,
The dagger gleamed on high;

Into her husband's face she gazed,
He was afraid to die!

She paused, how many feelings rushed
Fast through her throbbing brain,
Until once more the bright tears gushed
Over her cheek like rain.

'Twas but a moment! one last sigh That life's sweet dream was o'er; She was again the Roman wife,

The heroine once more.

His spirit 'mid the battle's roar,

Sustained its bearing high;

But now it feared the approaching hour
Of mortal agony.

While she-oh woman! who that views
Thy frail and tender form;
Would deem that it so well could bear
The terrors of the storm!
She knelt before him-fervent love
Beamed in her kindling eye;

No selfish thoughts of earth now dimmed
Its star-like purity.

She knew that life, when they should part,

Would be but harrowing pain;
That nought could heal the broken heart
Or bind the severed chain.

One trial yet remained to show
That not to man alone,

Though conqueror of a thousand fields,
Is strength and courage known.

It had been hers, in happier hours,
The victor's brow to wreathe;
And in misfortune's trying power,
Those soothing accents breathe,
Which chase all sadness from the brow,
All anguish from the heart;
And now the summons had gone forth
That they were doomed to part.

Once more, to prove affection's light
Not even death could dim;
She plunged the dagger in that heart,
Which only beat for him!

A smile of fond unchanging love
Lit up her glazing eye!

And her last words were "Pætus, see,
It is not hard to die!"

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