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taught her to believe his tenderness inexhaus- enchanted him-won him. Nor was Emma tible?
unmoved by his preference. Her splendid Wife! can you expect that he whom you beauty had brought many suitors to her feet, made the ideal of your worship, will be content some of them even wealthier than Charles to sink into a mere domestic drudge? Or that Marlove, but none had touched her heart, and he will see, without marked and painful emo- she disdained to sell herself for gold. Nay, tion, those smiles, which were the light of his nothing but strong self-respect, and a pure existence, darken into frowns on every trivial conscience, prevented her from rejecting Mar. occasion--that temper, which seemed so mild | love, so sensitive was she on the subject of forand placid, becoming deformed and shrewish? | tune hunting. They were married ; and Or, yet, that he will calmly endure to behold Charles soon surrounded his lovely wife with those affections, which you vowed were gar- all the splendor which wealth can call up, as if nered up in his heart alone, bestowed on the by fairy enchantment, and which, although it follies and fripperies of the world-on dress, gratified her refined and elegant tastes, did by operas, and jewels—while he yearns hopelessly no means dazzle her imagination, or turn her for your sympathy and companionship? head. On the contrary, her affections clung
And yet, -when the objects of your solicitude purely to the husband of her choice, and when, become stale and distasteful; when pleasure after a year of very delightful companionship, palls upon the sense, and excitement flags, and she presented him with the pledge of their the soul longs for purer enjoyments; you find, union, a happier couple could not have been too late, that you have neglected or corrupted the spring of the affections, and the waters of There are many things, however, which life are bitter and unwholesome.
militate against domestic bliss in fashionable I have a case in my mind's eye, which will life. The exactions of that fantastic social be found in the following
code, which rules the ton, cause not unfre
quently heart-aches and sorrowings in hearts, STORY OF THE HEART.
that would be pure if their possessors had the Mrs. Marlove is a lady richly endowed by moral courage to set fashion at defiance, when nature with susceptibilities and affections. At she trenched upon holy ground. The Marloves, eighteen, her mind was free from taint or infec- both by fortune and position, were entitled to tion, her taste cultivated, and her heart “ fancy move among the first circles, and thus not unfree.” She was not very romantic, but she frequently, when inclination would have made had a soul capable of loving very sincerely, home the pleasantest place on earth, the saloon and, though without fortune, would not have or the ball-room found them mingling in its married a millionaire, if he had been old, ugly, glittering and heartless crowds. Emma would and soulless; but the fates favored her, and have had the independence to forego much of she did marry a man of wealth, but at the same the so-called pleasures, but Charles's foible was time one who possessed “all those attributes pride ; and because he was proud, first of his which lend ideal charms to love."
wife, and next of his brilliant fortune, to Charles Marlove was gifted with intellect of which he was every day adding, he did not a high order, a handsome person, a generous choose to throw away the occasion of displayheart, and great riches. Although he had ing both. He did not value the affection of his been reared in luxury, his mind was neither wife less; and the sweet hours of domestic afenervated nor corrupted ; and, although the fection were still halcyon moments to him, but foibles of fashionable life clung to him, and he sacrificed them to Pride. In this he never somewhat marred the symmetry of his manly thought to consult the taste or true wishes of character, he shook them off easily, when the his companion, and Emma, pliant and placable, occasion demanded it, and shone forth in his though she sometimes sighed in secret, smiled true light. Charles was near thirty before he a ready assent to his views, and gradually married, for, though his heart was formed to found herself yielding to the whirl of fashionaenjoy domestic affections, he had met no one | ble excitement. among the butterflies in the parterres of fashion Mr. Marlove was engaged in extensive merwho made a permanent impression upon him. cantile transactions, and much of his time was At last came Emma Westbrook, the daughter necessarily engrossed through the day, in su. of a respectable, but impoverished merchant, perintending his affairs. It happened, about whose truly womanly character pleased him, I two years after their marriage, that these became somewhat complicated. and demanded brook entered the Dusseldorf gallery, to examore strictly his attention. It was next to im- | mine a new picture, when he found a company possible that the world should not know his of fashionables assembled, among whom he embarrassment, and quite impossible that it soon distinguished his sister, leaning on the should not be exaggerated. Charles felt this; , arm, and listening with marked pleasure to and, secure in his own calculations, determined the polished persiflage, of a young man of brilto be in his style of living more liberal than liant position in society, but whose character ever, to ward off the imputation of compulsory had created in Albert's breast a stronger feelretrenchment. At the club, too, he became a ing of aversion than he had before entertained much more constant attendant, and entered towards any human. A frown contracted his with such spirit into the coteries of fashionable brow, and as he was himself unseen by them, life, that he soon became an acknowledged he half resolved to depart without noticing his leader, thereby entailing upon himself cares sister, who, with her companion, was apart which monopolized another important portion from the crowd. Just at the moment, however, of his time. Between all these various en- some remarks of two or three fashionables, grossments, his hours at home were rare. who were gathered before a picture, attracted
At first Emma sighed, and thought to re- his attention, and burnt deep into his soulproach him; but there was no want of kind "Oh! dear ; do look how earnestly Fitzroy ness when they were together, ard her heart and Mrs. Marlove are engaged across the room refused to upbraid him ; then she made up her there. I declare, quite a serious flirtation." mind to comply cheerfully with all his wishes, “Hist!” said another, “it is too serious a in regard to society, and flattered herself that matter for us to trifle with : don't you know if the sacred privacy of home was sacrificed, they are inseparable? I should not be surpristhat at least in public they should be always ed if a duel, or an action of crim. con., were together. Alas! how like a dream is promis- | the consequence." ed happiness. Secure in the affections of his These remarks were made by a couple of wife, and engrossed by society, Charles Mar- young ladies, (?) who, with an elderly spinlove soon began to neglect those little occasions ster, all dressed in the height of ton, and evifor tenderness and delicate attentions, which, dently belonged to the “ upper ten,” formed unimportant as they may seem, make up the the group to which we have alluded. all of a fond woman's heart, and Emma began It would be impossible to describe the sharp to sigh in bitterness for the sympathy of him pang of agony which Albert Westbrook expewhom she loved.
rienced. Turning abruptly, before his sister Let us draw the curtain, and present a scene perceived him, he departed. which occurred not quite three years after Em- When Albert left the Dusseldorf, he proceedma's marriage. She had a brother who was ed at once to his own studio, which was only an artist, a man of soul; a hero of dreamland, a block or two off, and immediately penned and a true philosopher of the world. Albert the following words, which his boy was directWestbrook loved his sister with a poet's love, ed to take at once to the gallery, and give to pure, holy, and admiring; he was also attach- | Mrs. Marlove: ed to Charles Marlove, in whom he recognized
“Emma, come to my studio at once, and . many generous and congenial qualities, though Lalone: I
| alone; I wish to see you. their different experiences in life left little
"ALBERT." occasion for close companionship. The house and purse of Marlove would have been at his Mrs. Marlove was startled at the receipt of command, had his pride condescended to use this peremptory little billet, and at once turned them, for Charles appreciated and loved him ; pale with apprehension of some catastrophe; but, save to seek the frequent companionship then, although she had not seen her brother of his sister, Westbrook availed himself not of enter and leave the gallery, conscience painted his wealthy brother-in-law's friendship. her cheek, for she was aware just when she re
Emma, who looked up to Albert almost with ceived his note, that she, a married woman, was veneration, had, with instinctive delicacy, re- almost flirting; and intuitively, she connected frained from hinting to him her unhappiness, the message she had received, with the suspiso that he was ignorant if a cloud shadowed cion that, as Albert knew where she was, he the bliss of his well-beloved sister.
knew also who was her companion It happened one morning that Albert West-| Escusing herself to Mr. Fitzroy, who, as he .
handed her to the carriage, looked as if he ex- | Emma-but no, you need not, it is as plain as pected to be asked to take a seat, she got in day, for we artists are clear-sigated in affairs alone, and drove to her brother's room
of the heart-your husband neglects you." She found Albert alone, pacing the floor. "No! no! Albert-not neglect; he is much
“Well, eccentric brother mine; why this engaged now, and cannot spare the time to hasty summons, and how did you know I was escort me." at the Dusseldorf ?”
" He neglects you—not wilfully and inten“I saw you there."
tionally, or I should hate him; but you experi"And did not speak to me !"
ence that neglect, too common among married “No; but I heard others speak of you, in a ' people, which wrecks so many hearts formed way that displeased me, and I determined at for mutual happiness. You are young, my once to give you a warning."
sister, with a heart teeming with feelings and “What under heaven do you mean, Albert? | affections which demand constant sympathy, I know your dramatic talent; but this passes Charles, though he loves you sincerely, and is my comprehension. What could any one say worthy of your love, is rather too much a man of me that should give you such a tragedy of the world for your poetical nature; you face." There was an effort at self-possession, have felt, though you have not acknowledged if not raillery, in Emma's tone, yet her voice his neglect, and you have innocently accepted trembled, and she turned perceptibly pale. the sympathy for which your soul longed, and
“I will not disguise the matter, Emma, in which another, with insidious art, was ready studied phrase ; but tell you at once, as it is to offer in his place. Do you not recognize my duty to do. They said—the vicious gos- truth in my words ? Does not the prophetic sips who were near you, and whose breath of spirit, which is ever present when we need it, scandal is poison as the deadly Upas to an lift the veil, and show you a possible future to honest woman's fame—they said that you—my shudder at ?? sister-the wife of Charles Marlove-received, "Oh! true, true! I am lost !! and encouraged, the attentions of a libertine !" | “No!--saved! To see your danger, is to
Mrs. Marlove sank, almost fainting, into a shun it. This man, as yet, can have made no chair.
impression on a heart like yours; and Charles “'Tis false !" she gasped. “Oh! Albert, shall win you back to love and peace of mind." can you suspect me of dishonor ?
Emma made no reply, but was for some mo“No; but I would save you from it." ments buried in reverie, which Albert would
“But how have I incurred this scandal? | not disturb, for he knew communion with her Surely, I have done nothing wrong. Mr. Fitz- own thoughts, at such an hour, was necessary, roy, for it is him to whom you allude, never At length, raising her countenance, which was breathed an impure thought to me, or I should calm but sad, to his, she said : have spurned him in an instant.”
“Oh! Albert, what a lesson of the heart you “Of course you would, Emma; yet he is not have read me: but my husband, think you he the person whom a married woman can be loves me still ? safely seen with too often."
"Fondly as ever." “Surely, Albert, you wrong him; a more | "And suppose he, too, should have heard gentlemanly and agreeable man I do not know, this slander; my God! what would become of and more noble and elevated sentiments I never me!" heard, than he constantly expresses,” said Em- "Fear not; I must see Charles within the ma, warmly.
hour. I must talk to him, as I only have the " There, that will do,” replied her brother. right. Get in your carriage, and go home to “When a married woman sees such attractions your child. I will be with you at dinner, and in another than her husband, and accepts his promise that all shall go well.”' frequent attendance, be she chaste as Diana, If there is anything on earth that can win there is danger. Oh! my sister, you have an erring woman back, it is the love of her placed your foot upon the brink of a preci- offspring. pice."
But, we must follow Albert Westbrook to the “Albert, you insult me!" she exclaimed, counting-house of his brother-in-law. He did turning very red.
not arrive one moment too early for his misNay, be patient. Your soul is spotless sion, for he found Charles, with a dark brow now; God grant it may be ever so. Tell me, and a flushed cheek, alone in his sanctum, with
a little note, on French paper, lying open be- "Idare to tell you, you are doing great injusfore him.
| tice to my sister; and that your neglect of her “Ah! Albert," said he, recognizing the artist, may prove fatal to the honor and happiness of * see here, sir! look what your sister has done both." -I am branded, sir, with shame!
“My neglect ?? And he thrust the billet into his hands.
“Oh! you supply her with all that wealth “ Be quiet, Charles, for God's sake, or the can buy, you provide her with every luxury, clerks in the other room will notice your agi- save one, which a soul like hers needs—the tation. I have come to speak with you on this sympathy and companionship of the man she loves. very subject.” :
Come, Charles, let us talk together. Your He glanced at the note, which was in a deli
wife is as yet pure and undefiled in thought pate female hand. It ran thus :
and deed, but she has been in the pathway of 6 Mr. Marlove is informed. by a friend. to | danger, though, thank God, I found her in whom his honor is dear, that the gallant Mr. time to save her. I have just sent her home Fitzroy makes love to his wife, which she to her child, and promised to dine with you seems nothing loath to accept. Let him use both, after we have had some conversation tohis eyes at the Art-Union, or the Dusseldorf gether Bcme morning, and he will be convinced.
Long and earnest was the conference of the “Diana."
brothers; and the artist revealed to the man
of business some new lessons of the heart, “Pshaw! Charles, is your faith in your wife which were worth more than all his gold! 80 weak, as to be effected by such a contempti- With deep anxiety did Emma await the reble missile as this?”
turn of her brother, and when she saw him “But you just told me yourself, that you enter the parlor, in company with her husband, came to speak with me on the same subject," her heart almost stood still ; but, when the latreplied the other, coloring with a different ter, with ill-concealed emotion, extended his emotion. “Besides, 'I know that Fitzroy has arms, she flew to his bosom with a cry of joy, escorted Emma on several occasions."
and, in the warm embrace that followed, their "I came to tell you that you are neglecting hearts were re-united forever! your orn happiness. I saw Emma at the Dus- Mr. Fitzroy found his place by the side of seldorf this morning myself, and Mr. Fitzroy the lovely Emma occupied by one who had a was her companion, and a very agreeable one more legitimate claim, and was forced to conshe seemed to think him."
sole himself with the society of a certain lady, “There! by Heavens! you dare to tell me who is strongly suspected of having sent the of it yourself."
| note written on French paper.
ORIGIN OF THE CENSUS.
HISTORY has fully informed us, that the au- | troness of funerals and undertakers. They thorities of Ancient Rome governed the masses crected a temple to her honor, and required, by a system of superstitious rites and ceremo- that whenever a person died, the friends of the nies, and a mythology was created, adapted to deceased should deposit a small coin therein, this system. It entered into the most minute as a peace-offering to the goddess on behalf of affairs of life, as well as matters of public im- / the dead. The coin thus deposited, was called portance; nothing was done without an invo “ Libitinai ratio," and none failed to comply cation to either the god, or goddess, that pre- with what was established as a sacred ceremosided over that particular action, and, when ny. This being done, the proper officer had there was no deity on the calendar having only to count the pieces of coin, at stated jurisdiction over what it was desirable to intervals, to obtain the correct number, or accomplish, they created one, and consecrated census of the dead for that period. This it for the emergency. Thus, when the Romans is said to be the first effort that was ever wished to obtain a census of the dead, they set made to obtain a census of either the living or up“ Libitisa," and designated her as the pa-, the dead.
THE YOUNG MARTYR.
A LIFE SCENE OF THE REVOLUTION.
BY THOMAS R. WHITNEY.
rupted by the entrance of an Aid-de-camp, who informed him that an officer, for whom he had sent, waited without in answer to his summons.
“Invite him to my apartment, and let us be uninterrupted,” said the General.
The Aid retired, and in a few moments returned, accompanied by a youth wearing the uniform of a captain in the Continental Militia. He was an officer attached to the Connecticut draft, at that time quartered in the city of New-York. The Commander-in-chief arose and welcomed him warmly. Lights were brought in, and the youthful officer was alone with the Father of his country.
“My young friend,” said Washington, "I have sent for you, to confer on a delicate sub
ject. There are few men, however devoted in
Oon after the sacred cause in which we are engaged, with the defeat of the Ameri- | whom I can freely commune, and to whom it cans, at Brooklyn, in the would be prudent to reveal all my intentions. latter part of the month of It is sometimes difficult, sir, even for the ComAugust, 1776, by the British mander-in-chief to know who are, and who are force under General Howe, 'not, our enemies. There are traitors even in and while General Wash- my own household.”
ington yet held possession “I trust your Excellency has no doubt of my of New York, the following incident, illustra- sincerity ?" inquired the youth, in a tone of tive of the courage and devotion of those en- pride. gaged in the cause of Independence, occurred. “No, my friend; had I doubted you, this
The Commander-in-chief of the American interview would not have occurred. Be assurforces sat alone in his apartment, busily en- ed, that my solicitation of this visit, is the result gaged in examining the correspondence of the of an unbounded confidence in your attachcommittee of Congress, that had been appointment to our cause.” ed to confer with Lord Howe, who had recent- The youth bowed, and was silent. ly arrived with cvertures of a humiliating "Are you aware," continued the General, "of nature from the mother country. The time the result of the interview that has just been was early evening; and as twilight fell upon held between the committee appointed by the the earth, the papers were laid momentarily Continental Congress, and Lord Howe ?" aside. They conveyed to him the intelligence "I am not, your Excellency." that the overtures of the crown had not been “This, then, will inform you," said Washaccepted, on the ground that the crown refus- ington, placing a letter in his hands. ed to treat with America, except in the former The young officer glanced over the paper.
haracter of colonies subordinate to the royal It was signed, BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. "I soe, mandate. The war must be continued ! sir," said he, after perusing the sheet, a faint
In the midst of his reflections on the commu- smile lighting up his features as he spoke- I nications just received, Washington was inter- see, sir, that we must fight it out. There is