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LOVE'S STRATA GEM.

A LIVERPOOL STORY.

[WITH AN ENGRAVING.]

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LADIES in the present day dress very absurdly. They make balloons of their dresses by puffing them out to enormous widths, in a style of profusion which strikes the boldest man with a sort of fear. They press themselves into unnatural dimensions, screw their bodies into fantastic forms, and take wonderful pains to insinuate into strange shapes the bodies which God made beautiful. Why they go to all this trouble is a mystery to the other sex. If for the sake of making themselves attractive, they fail, because most men love nature; and if for the purpose deceiving any one, they only deceive themselves. Lord love you! We men know all about it; we know that those wasp-like waists are only compressed muscle, forcing disease upon healthy systems, although born with smiling faces. And do you not believe that the ladies' maids, fresh and blooming from the country, with the sweet tints of Nature on their rosy cheeks, laugh in their sleeve when they paint their mistresses? Of course they do; and the lady, brilliant and proud in gilded saloons made dazzling with splendor and wealth, trembles when she recollects that her maid is in the secret, and may reveal at any moment the awful fact that the color on her young lady's cheek is not genuine. So it is with every thing of this kind many adventurers who walk about in all the brilliance of white linen, and in the pride of false fronts and collars-the other shirt being with the laundress-feel bitterly that she is in the secret, and knows exactly the state of their wardrobes. So is it with every thing. No man is a hero to his valet-de-chambre," saith the proverb; and

so, in like manner, are few women angels to heir ladies'-maids.

But the dear creatures might be, if they had a mind to-if they would only leave Nature, who ought to be the guiding star of milliners, to assert her rights. But they will not. They must paint, and spread themselves out on sofas like heaps of clothing, ticketed as plainly as possible, if you only know how to read the label-"Wealth and good taste uniting for an offer." There are, thank Heaven, exceptions to this rule, as there are to all others. I know several myselfsuch good, sensible, amiable girls as it is quite a pleasure to know, and an honor to be intimate with.

Nina Elhingham is one of these. I should not call her Nina Elhingham now, because she is married, and has, oh! such a dear little daughter, the most famous hand at ropeskipping you ever saw. However, my story commences at a period when Nina Elhingham was single, and an amiable, unaffected, good girl, far above the follies of the day, but merry and light-hearted, as all good people are and must be; they can't help it. Happiness in its purest form is, after all, only the reflection of other people's joy on hearts which are pure enough to appreciate it without selfishness.

Nina had never throughout her young life -and she was then nineteen years of age— known sorrow or grief. Bred up with tenderness by an indulgent parent, her time had ever passed calmly and happily, as the course of a sparkling streamlet in the sunshine of perpetual Spring would seem to do. She had never experienced sorrow, for she

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had nothing to regret; nor uneasiness-yes she had though, for her betrothment did sometimes make her feel rather sad; and no wonder, for it was a strange kind of proceeding, and highly improper.

Not that it was not a good thing to marry her, or rather to promise to marry her, (for "there is many a slip between the cup and the lip,") to Charles Rightford, Charles being a very good, honorable young man, and moreover handsome, and well to do in the world. He was considered a very eligible husband by a great many persons; but Nina was uneasy at her betrothal, because she had never seen her betrothed. There she was, positively engaged to him, and expecting to marry him next May a year, and had never yet seen him (since they were both infants at least) or talked to him, or judged of his character, except by means of the very pretty 'and loving letters which Charles used to write to her from India.

Well, it was very pleasant to receive such kind and affectionate epistles every month from the person she was going to marry, but you know very well what letters are, and how often a man says on paper what he does not mean-the heartless creature!—especially when he writes to young ladies. True, Nina was not at all suspicious; but she would think sometimes—ay, often-how dreadful it would be to give her hand and pledge her heart to Charles when he came home, if she should not like him. She frequently dwelt on this subject, and it made her consequently a little uneasy at times, as aforesaid.

But it did not interfere with her usual gayety of disposition-not a bit of it; for, indeed, Aunt Stratelace, who lived in the next house all alone by herself, and who was very crabbed and spiteful, in virtue of old maidenhood, used to make ill-natured remarks, and say that Nina was too thoughtless and free and all the rest of it-but she even did worse, did Aunt Stratelace, for she used to write to Charles all the way in India, telling all sorts of tales about Nina, and making out that Nina was too "flighty," as she termed it, to make a good wife, and that,

therefore, he had better renounce all idea of marrying her. Aunt Stratelace did not do this out of any regard for Charles-not she! But she had a grudge against Nina for having said that "Aunt Stratelace looked ugly with all that paint on her face"-which had displeased Aunt Stratelace very much, as well it might, for ladies generally would rather not have their complexion handled too freely by critics of either sex.

Charles Rightford, however, was not suspicious either; few noble natures are, and he did not believe these tales, for he knew Aunt Stratelace's character by report; so he mildly informed her that he could not believe any harm of Nina, and that he hoped some day to convince his aunt that she had formed a very wrong estimate of the character of his betrothed.

Old maids are, however, singular people, under favor be it said, and with a due regard to the many exceptions whom I know to this rule also; but they are, on the whole, spiteful, because they have been disappointedenvious, because their chances daily diminish, while much younger women are being every day made happy around them-sensitive, because they imagine themselves marks for constant raillery-scornful, because they are excluded from the privileges of freedomsnappish, because solitude makes them imperious-dignified, because they imagine that it is becoming to be soit is becoming to be so-and ridiculous, because they can't help it. Old bachelors are equally bad, but I cannot lose time with them just now. I will have a word or two to say to them before long.

The two young people had been betrothed in a very singular manner. Nina's father, who had been a merchant in Liverpool, had contracted a strong friendship for his partner, old John Rightford, a man with a wooden leg, but one of the best-hearted fellows that ever lived, notwithstanding this ligneous inconvenience. And so, when Mr. Elhingham was dying, he made John promise (and John was glad enough of it, mind you) that he would use all his influence to bring about a marriage between his son, then two years of

age, and Nina, then an infant in arms. Old John and his son settled in India soon after his partner's death. Nina's mother, Nina's mother, who regarded this last wish of her husband as a sacred inheritance, did all in her power when Nina grew up, which she did in Liverpool, to carry out the project, and old John, to the hour of his death, always urged the step on his only son. The mutual pledges were given, and Charles (named after his grandfather) in India, and Nina in Liverpool, were duly promised to each other for man and wife. All this may appear very extraordinary and very improper; but that is not my business-I tell you the facts-make the most of them.

Charles's friend, Tom Elmore, as he was familiarly called in Charles's letter, (his right name was Thomas,) came home to Liverpool, in the year 1844, and brought a flattering introduction to Nina from her betrothed in India. Charles spoke of him as his dearest friend, indeed, as his other self, to whom Nina "might speak without reserve on every subject." The two last words were underscored by Charles, which was a delicate way of alluding to their intended marriage that was quite charming. Now, Tom was a handsome fellow. He had one of those fine open ountenances that call out "truth" when you look upon them. He. had a dark eye and a fine bold forehead. He wore, moreover, short whiskers-not short because he could not have had them full and large if he had had a mind to, but short and crisp because he liked them so-and his teeth were so white and regular-in fact, he was a handsome young fellow, and there was no mistake at all about it.

When Nina saw Tom, "and beheld that he was comely to look on," she asked if Charles had sent his portrait, as he had promised; "because," said Nina, "I have no other than one which was taken when he was quite a child."

But Tom said no-that Charles had not given him one to bring home-indeed, that he had not had one painted, but that he could tell her how Charles looked; he did

it however in such a cold and indifferent way, that Nina was vexed. And it certainly was not generous to speak of his absent friend to the young lady who questioned him in other than an enthusiastic manner. But as we have seen, Nina did not care much about Charles; and Tom was so entertaining in his descriptions of his homeward voyage, that Nina did not think much of Charles till after Tom Elmore had gone-and then Nina sat down alone in her room to think of her future, and to hope that Charles might resemble his friend, who was such a nice young man, and seemed to be so very clever.

Nina's mother welcomed Tom with great affability-asking a thousand questions about Charles, which quite embarrassed Tom, and made him regard Mrs. Elhingham as prosy, a quality which most matrons of Mrs. Elhingham's age are liable to be accused of. She moreover discovered, in the most unaccount-" able manner, a likeness between Tom and old Mr. Rightford, long since departed, and gave him a warm invitation, which he was not slow to accept. For in two or three days Tom again made his appearance, and came again next day with a piece of music, and again, on the following day, with a rare study on which Nina might exercise her pencil, and in short, after a time he was there every day, Sabbaths not excepted.

And there was no reason to prohibit his coming. His manners were unexceptionable; he was very attentive to Mrs. Elhingham, and to her daughter-perhaps a little more to Nina than her mother, but never mind, there was no harm in that, I suppose. And how well he played the piano! He used to give Nina lessons, too, sometimes; and he was such a patient master, and she such a docile pupil, that it was quite a treat to see them there together, though Aunt Stratelace did not think so; for, after she came in suddenly one day, and found him placing her fingers on the keys for a difficult chord, and holding up her wrist to show her how it ought to be kept up, she quite bridled up, and straightway went about among her acquaintances, and made mischief. She did more, the

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