from the treasury of health and strength; day by day she had implored him to give himself some respite from the labours which were killing him, but he had not listened to her, for she was poor and a widow, and he was the only support of his house. In the extremity of her sorrow, when conviction of his approaching fate fell upon her spirit, she had come to pray that a miracle might be wrought, and the son of her love spared to her yet awhile.

The young girl, the devoted sister, prayed also for the recovery of a brother dear to her beyond all other earthly things, and she fondly believed that it might even be granted.

And the dying youth-what were his aspirations? He dreamed not of death; and the fever which consumed him, and the weakness which bowed his tall, slight form, were only regretted as preventing his exertions in favour of his mother and sister. He asked for affluence and fame (for he was an artist) to support and ennoble them, and his brilliant eye spoke of enthusiastic hope that they might be attained.

Sedley passed from the cathedral, and returned home to his mother, a new being. He had

resolved henceforward to shake off the restless depression which had so long hung upon his mind, and to arouse all his energies. He still entertained a hope of some day encountering Teresa, and he was determined patiently to await that time.

Having formed this resolution, he firmly adhered to it, and Lady Sedley saw with gratitude and delight the improvement in her son's health and spirits. His natural evenness of temper and amiability of disposition returned, and he was again the noble, calm, high-minded Herbert Sedley of former days. He consented to accompany his mother occasionally into society; and in the various assemblies to which he went he was courted and caressed by young and old. Many were the beautiful and highborn who smiled on Sedley, but his heart was far away from the scenes in which he mingled, and, besides this, he was not one of that class of men who fancy a trap in every

woman's smile, and a design in every kind or civil speech.

Men who fancy themselves so universally irresistible, are extremely to be commiserated; their's is a most pitiable case; because, if they have a spark of feeling, their hearts must be woefully lacerated at the contemplation of the havoc they have committed, and the immense demolition of peace and happiness their unintentional fascinations have made in the soft female heart; the numbers who drag on a miserable existence, not to mention those who have sunk into the grave. We really consider these attractive men most peculiarly unfortunate, since, as they very justly observe, "It is not their fault if women chuse to fall in love with them."

Under their distressing circumstances, we can suggest but one remedy, and that is, that as when they appear in society they have as many admirers as beholders, and subdue hearts without an effort, they should evince their genuine regret

for the possession of such fatal powers, by absenting themselves altogether.

Amongst the most beautiful and attractive young girls in Florentine society, Sedley soon distinguished Chiara di M., the only child of the Prince and Princess M., who had been so kind to Antonio Cellini and Teresa. The princess had died almost immediately after Teresa left Florence as the wife of St. John, and the prince had married, within a very short period, a young and giddy woman, who looked upon Chiara as a rival, and hindrance to her enjoyments.

Sedley was attracted towards Chiara from the affection he had felt for her mother, and because she had been a favourite with his beloved Teresa. Lady Sedley also took much interest in Chiara, and, seeing the misery of her position with her unkind step-mother, she prevailed on the Prince M. to spare his daughter to her for a few weeks. This request was zealously seconded by Chiara and the princess, and, consequently, the motherless girl was quickly estab

lished under Lady Sedley's roof, where she found a mother and brother.

For hours Sedley talked to her of Teresa, and he thought that Chiara never looked so beautiful as when speaking the praises of her absent friend.

Chiara had many admirers, but she was a thoughtless, light-hearted creature, and never dreamed of love.

Thus the winter passed away, and beautiful spring returned, with its buds and fresh verdure, and with it returned fresh beauty to Chiara's cheek, renewed vigour to Sedley's frame, and grateful, sober happiness to Lady Sedley's bosom.

The travellers left Florence and proceeded to Genoa, accompanied by Chiara di M. She was the life and soul of their party, and yet her tact was such that she never annoyed or fatigued her companions by the exuberance of her spirits.

It was evening when the travellers entered the magnificent bay of Genoa, and a bright, full moon silvered every object, and rendered it almost as distinct as in daylight. The vessels