the A friend in Italy had kindly given me a grave, but comes to see me now and letter to Lady Blessington, and with a strong then, and if you had known how shockingly curiosity to see this celebrated lady, I called on Byron treated him, you would only wonder her the second day after my arrival in London.at his sparing his memory so much.' It was deep i' the afternoon,' but I had not 'Nil mortuis nisi bonum,' I thought, would yet learned the full meaning of town hours.' have been a better course. If he had reason Her ladyship had not come down to break-to dislike him, he had better not have written fast. I gave the letter and my address to the || since he was dead. powdered footman, and had scarce reached home when a note arrived inviting me to call the same evening at ten. Perhaps perhaps. But Galt has been all In a long library lined alternately with splendidly-bound books and mirrors, and I assured her ladyship that the Curioswith a deep window of the breadth of the room.ities of Literature,' by the father, and Vivian|| opening upon Hyde Park, I found Lady Grey and Contarini Fleming,' by the son Blessington alone. The picture to my eye were universally known. as the door opened was a very lovely one. A I am pleased at that, too, for I like them woman of remarkable beauty half buried in a both. D'Israeli the elder came here with his fauteuil of yellow satin, reading by a magni-son the other night. It would have delighted ficent lamp, suspended from the center of the you to see the old man's pride in him. He is arched ceiling; sofas, couches, ottomans and very fond of him, and as he was going away, busts arranged in rather a crowded sump-he patted him on the head, and said to me, tuousness through the room; enamel tables, take care of him, Lady Blessington, for my covered with expensive and elegant trifles in || sake. He is a clever lad, but he wants every corner, and a delicate white hand ballast. I am glad he has the honor to know relieved on the back of a book, to which the you, for you will check him sometimes when eye was attracted by the blaze of its diamond I am away? D'Israeli, the elder, lives in rings. As the servant mentioned my name, the country about twenty miles from town, she rose and gave me her hand very cordially, and seldom comes up to London. He is a and a gentleman entering immediately after, very plain old man in his manners, as plain she presented me to her son-in-law, Count as his son is the reverse. D'Israeli, the D'Orsay, the well-known Pelham of London, younger, is quite his own character of Vivian and certainly the most splendid specimen of Grey, crowded with talent, but very soigne of a man and a well-dressed one that I had ever his curls, and a bit of a coxcomb. There is seen. Tea was brought in inmediately, and no reserve about him, however, and he is the conversation went swimmingly on. only joyous dandy I ever saw.' Her ladyship's inquiries were principally about America, of which, from long absence I knew very little. She was extremely curious to know the degrees of reputation the present popular authors of England enjoy among us, particularly Bulwer, Galt, and D'Israeli, (the author of Vivian Grey.) If you will come to-morrow night,' she said, you will see Bulwer. I am delighted that he is popular in America. He is envied and abused by all the literary men of London, for nothing, I believe, except that he gets five hundred pounds for his books and they fifty, and knowing this, he chooses to assume a pride, (some people call it puppyism,) which is only the armor of a sensitive mind, afraid of a wound. He is to his friends the most frank and gay creature in the world, and open to boyishness with those who he thinks understand and value him. He has a brother, Henry, who is as clever as himself in a different vein, and is just now publishing a book on the present state of France. Bulwer's wife, you know, is one of the most beautiful women in London, and his house is the resort of both fashion and talent. He is just now hard at work on a new book, the subject of which is the last days of Pompeii. The hero is a Roman dandy, who wastes himself in luxury, till this great catastrophe rouses him and developes a character of the noblest capabilities. Is Galt much liked?' I answered to the best of my knowledge that he was not. His life of Byron was a stab at the dead body of the noble poet, which, for one, I never could forgive, and his books were clever, but vulgar. He was evidently not a gentleman in his mind. This was the opinion I had formed in America, and I had never heard another. I am sorry for it,' said Lady B, for he is the dearest and best old man in the world. I know him well. He is just on the verge of write for America. We think already a 'Not in London, but a great many abroad. I was with Lord Blessington in his yacht at Naples, when the American fleet was lying there, eight or ten years ago, and we were constantly on board your ships. I knew Commodore Creighton and Captain Deacon extremely well, and liked them particularly. They were with us, either on board the yacht or the frigate every evening, and I remember very well the bands playing always God save the King' as we went up the side. Count D'Orsay here, who spoke very little English at that time, had a great passion for Yankee Doodle, and it was always played at his request.' The count, who still speaks the language with a very slight accent, but with a choice of words that shows him to be a man of uncommon tact and elegance of mind, inquired after several of the officers, whom I have not the pleasure of knowing. He seemed to remember his visits to the frigate with great pleasure. The conversations, after running upon a variety of topics, which I could not with propriety put into a letter for the public eye, turned very naturally upon Byron. I had frequently seen the Countess Guiccioli on the continent, and I asked Lady Blessington if she knew her. No. We were at Pisa when they were living together, but though Lord Blessington had the greatest curiosity to see her, Byron I asked if the account I had seen in some would never permit it. "She has a red American paper of a literary celebration at head of her own," said he, " and don't like to Canandaigua, and the engraving of her lady-show it." Byron treated the poor creature ship's name with some others upon a rock, dreadfully ill. She feared more than she was not a quiz. loved him.' 'Oh, by no means. I was equally flattered and amused by the whole affair. I have a great idea of taking a trip to America to sec it. Then the letter, commencing Most charming countess-for charming you must be since you have written the conversations of Lord Byron'-oh, it was quite delightful. I have shown it to every-body. By the way, I receive a great many letters from America, from people I never heard of, written in the most extraordinary style of compliment, apparently in perfectly good faith. I hardly know what to make of them.' I accounted for it by the perfect seclusion in which great numbers of cultivated people live in our country, who, having neither intrigue, nor fashion, nor twenty other things to occupy their minds as in England, depend entirely upon books, and consider an author who has given them pleasure as a friend. America, I said, has probably more literary enthusiasts than any country in the world; and there are thousands of romantic minds in the interior of New-England, who know perfectly every writer this side the water, and hold them all in veneration, scarcely conceivable by a sophisticated European. If it were not for such readers, literature would be the most thankless of vocations. I for one, would never write another line. She had told me the same thing herself in Italy. It would be impossible, of course, to make a full and fair record of a conversation of some hours. I have only noted one or two topics which I thought most likely to interest an American reader. During all this long visit, however, my eyes were very busy in finishing for memory a portrait of the celebrated and beautiful woman before me. The portrait of Lady Blessington in the Book of Beauty is not unlike her, but it is still an unfavorble likeness. A picture by Sir Thomas Lawrence hung opposite me, taken, prehaps, at the age of eighteen, which is more like her, and as captivating a representation of a just matured woman, full of loveliness and love, the kind of creature with whose divine sweetness the gazer's heart aches, as ever was drawn in the painter's most inspired hour. The original is now (she confessed it very frankly) forty. She looks something on the sunny side of thirty. Her person is full, but preserves all the fineness of an admirable shape; her foot is not crowded in a satin slipper, for which a Cinderella might long be looked for in vain, and her complexion, (an unusually fair skin, with very dark hair and eye-brows,) is of And do you think these are the people who even a girlish delicacy and freshness. Her write to me? If I could think so, I should be, dress of blue satin, (if I am describing her exceedingly happy. People in England are like a milliner, it is because I have here and refined down to such heartlessness-criti-there a reader of the Mirror in my eye who cism, private and public, is so interested and so cold, that it is really delightful to know there is a more generous tribunal. Indeed I think all our authors now are beginning to will be amused by it,) was cut low and folded across her bosom, in a way to show to advantage the round and sculpture-like curve and whiteness of a pair of exquisite shoulders, while her hair dressed close to her head, and parted sim- || delay. St. Mery was seated at table, eating sation.' There is one remark I may as well make here, with regard to the personal descriptions and anecdotes with which my letters from England will of course be filled. It is quite a different thing from publishing such letters in London. America is much farther off from England than England from America. You in New-York read the periodicals of this country, and know every thing that is done or written here, as if you lived within the sound of Bow-bell. The English, how ever, just know of our existence, and if they get a general idea twice a year of our progress in politics, they are comparatively well informed. Our periodical literature is never even heard of. Of course, there can be no offence to the individuals themselves in any thing which a visiter could write, calculated to convey an idea of the person or manners of distinguish ed people to the American public. I mention it lest, at first thought, I might seem to have. abused the hospitality or frankness of those on whom letters of introduction have given me claims for civility. N. F. W. MISCELLANY. Fatalism. The Intellect. The Rural Repository. SATURDAY, APRIL 11, 1835. HUDSON LUNATIC ASYLUM.-From the last report of Drs. S. & G. H. White, it appears that from July 1, 1830, to January 1, 1835, a period of four years and a half, 185 patients have been received and medically treated in the Institution, and that at least nine tenths of the recent cases have been restored to their friends in the enjoyment of reason. PORTLAND MAGAZINE.-This new and valuable periodical is edited by a lady, and when we say that The Captive Queen's Gift,' in our paper, is the production of her pen, we think our readers will consider it as sufficient evidence that Mrs. Stevens possesses a highly cultivated and intelligent mind, and will prove fully competent to fulfil the arduous task she has undertaken. We would cordially recommend this Magazine to the notice of our fair countrywomen, being confident that they will find in its columns, each succeeding month, a rich and tastefully arranged intellectual treat. Letters Containing Remittances, Received at this Office, ending Wednesday last, deducting the amount of Postage paid. A. W. L. Leeds, N. Y. $1,00; H. H. Keeseville, N. Y. ONE proof of the superior and independent excellence of lofty endowments, may be found in the fact that the brute creation have got the senses in far greater perfection than man, in comparison with his. A raven can scent and yet their external knowledge is a blank its prey at a distance of many leagues; a hog can smell a truffle that is buried under the earth; an eagle can see an object with distinctness at the distance of several miles; the fall of a leaf cannot escape the ear of a sleeping hare; the polypus, says Dumeril, is capable of receiving light itself by its fineness of touch; most quadrupeds are enabled to distinguish more accurately between wholesome and poisonous herbs, than the most accomplished and laborious botanist; and yet by his intellect alone, man is able to triumph over the comparative deficiency of his senses; and with inferior modes of acquiring knowledge, to rise to that prodigious evening, for threatening to kill his wife; on Friday superiority which he possesses. Value of a Moment. If an editor of a daily paper does not know the value of a moment, we know of no man who does. Obliged as he is to furnish matter selected and original, which will interest his readers and interrupted at almost every period of his composition by some kind friend, with whom he must stop and converse, he would poorly finish his task if he had not learned that a single vacant minute is worth Moreau de St. Mery, a French exile, who every thing to him. The day is made up of kept a Book-store in Philadelphia, was a these brief and scattered periods of leisure, decided believer in destiny. He observed, in or the evening will close upon him before he a conversation which I once held with him has written a paragraph. We have often on this subject, that one man might fall outached to enjoy a little of that leisure-that of a three story window and be slightly, if at all, hurt, while another, in crossing a gutter, or coming down stairs, would fall down and break a leg or an arm. In proof of his doctrine, he mentioned many of his own remarkable escapes, of which I remember but two: On one occasion he had been condemned, and was on his way to the guillotine, when one of the Guarde Nationale, (a journeyman printer, to whom Moreau had done some kindness,)-took hold of him, and asked, What do you here ?-crying aloud, at the same time, This man is a good citizen, I know him well.' Seizing him by the arm, he dragged him from among the crowd of victims, at a moment when he appeared to be on the verge of eternity. careless leisure which we perceive hundreds $1,00; J. S. Stearnesville, Ms. $1,00; S. H. Wilmington, O. $1,00; A. S. Hadley, Ms. $1,00; W. H. S. Malden Bridge, SUMMARY. SUICIDE.-David Mead, of this city, hung himself in the Jail last week. He was committed to prison on Thursday morning he was found in his cell, dead, he having hung bimself with bis pocket handkerchief.-Mead was recently from Cairo, Greene Co. The New-York Mercantile Advertiser of Tuesday says: The amount of duties accruing from importations into this city for the year 1834, is ascertained to be ten millions one hundred and eighty-four thousand dollars." The question of disputed territory between the State of Ohio and the Territory of Michigan, is in danger of being settled by a resort to arms! Convent for Nuns is about to be established in that city. He estimates the number of Catholics in Rochester at 5000. We understand, says the Boston Whig, that those concerned have abandoned the idea of rebuilding the Convent in this city or in New England, and that the Ursulines will go either to Canada or to Florida; at which latter place it is contemplated to purchase a tract of land, to be connected with a nunnery. A writer in the Rochester Daily Democrat says that a Fosdick. MARRIED, At Athens, on Sunday evening, the 29th ult. by the Rev. John Grigg, Captain Peter G. Coffin, to Miss Wealthy At Cairo, on the 31st ult. Mr. John Barnett, to Miss Emeline Johnson. In Taghkanick, on the 21st ult. by the Rev. J. Berger, Mr. Michael Poucher, of Claverack, to Miss Magdalen Kinderhook to Miss Deborah Underhill, of Stuyvesant. At Centreville, on the 21st ult. Mr. William Shufeldt, of At Livingston, on the 21st ult, by the Rev. D. B. Ostrander, Mr. John M. Heapman, formerly of the town of Kinderhook, to Miss Mary Ann Van Buren, of Livingston. In Claverack, on the 22d ult. by the Rev. S. Pomeroy, Mr. John Snook, to Rebecca Jordan. DIED, In this city, on the 31th ult. Emily Jane, daughter of John and Mary Hill. On the 27th of October last, Morison Jones, aged 22 years, suffocated on board the Ship James Monroe. At Spencertown, on the 25th ult. Miss Lydia Niles, second daughter of Mr. Samuel and Althea Niles, after an illness of five days, in the 23d year of her age. At Claverack, on the 29th ult. Mr. John Dickie, in the 57 year of his age. On the 28th ult. at the residence of Mr. Jacob Esselstyne, Mr. Wheeler B. Doty, of Canaan, in this county, aged 24 A VENERABLE Friend and dashing buck driving their respective vehicles, met in a narrow road where neither could pass without the consent of the other. After some At another time he was at Brest, waiting dispute as to which should first turn out, the for a wind to sail for this country, having buck drew a newspaper from his pocket and become highly obnoxious to the ruling powers. set about perusing it very diligently, upon It had blown for several days due west. At which the Friend with characteristic compo-Jacob Bachman, aged 40 years. length it veered about, and blew favorably for sure asked, Friend has thee another paper in his voyage. The captain resolved to profit thy pocket? No!' Then when thee has by it, sent a bellman through the city to sum-done reading the one in thy hand I would mon the passengers to come aboard without thank thee to loan it me.' 6 years. In Taghkanick on the 15th ult. Mrs. Helen wife of Mr. At Clermont, on the 22d ult. of the Scarlet Fever, Mary Holley, only daughter of Lieut. Stephen B. Wilson, of the 28th ult. Thomas Hulm, aged 1 year and 23 days, only son At the same place and of the same complaint, on the of William H. Wilson, Esq. RETURN, return! there are sorrowing hearts Yet we cannot now, as we have done, Return, for the brow of thy sister-child, Hath lost its look of freshness, e'en Return, return! the memory of all How sadly we are alone. The vacant chair, and the voiceless lute, Proclaim to each lorn one, too well Return, sweet brother! thou must return- Return to us with thy former love, And we will seek no more. Thy young mates are looking sadly now, The voice of thy mother is in thine ear, Her eye is dim in her struggle with death, Return, return! thou art breaking our hearts, We are weeping thine absence, and will weep Thou wilt, thou wilt-I can read it there, We will pluck this cankering grief away For the Rural Repository. To the Memory of Wm. H. Rockefeller. 'Tis but a day since first I met Thee, in the glow of youthful pride, But now, alas! thy sun has set, O'er earthly scenes no more to glide. Thou hast the debt of nature paid, A debt that all must surely pay, And in the dust, with thee be laid, To moulder with the silent clay. How oft unto thy manly voice I've listened with supreme delight, But never knew a flower so choice So early in the morn could blight. Though such, alas! is thy sad fate, From friends thou hast for ever gone, And left them here in mournful state, No more to welcome thy return. An early death hath sealed thy doom, To sink into the silent tomb, To moulder, and to be forgot. Thy father drops the silent tear, Will mourn for thee without relief. For never more, here on this earth, Thy memory shall be a star, To guide me on my way, W. PROSPECTUS OF THE RURAL REPOSITORY, Twelfth Volume, (Third New Series.) DEVOTED TO POLITE LITERATURE, SUCH AS MORAL AND SENTIMENTAL TALES, ORIGINAL COMMUNICATIONS, BIOGRAPHY, TRAVELING SKETCHES, AMUSING MISCELLANY, HUMOROUS AND HISTORICAL ANECDOTES, SUMMARY, POETRY, &c. On Saturday the 6th of June 1835, will be issued the first number of a new volume of the RURAL REPOSITORY. On issuing proposals for the Twelth volume (Third New Series) of the Repository, the Publisher tenders his most sincere acknowledgements to all Contributors, Agents and Subscribers, for the liberal support which they have afforded him from the commencement of his publication. New assurances on the part of the publisher of a periodical which has stood the test of years, would seem superfluous, he will therefore only say, that it will be conducted on a similar plan and published in the same form as heretofore, and that no pains or expense, shall be spared to promote their gratification by its futher improvement in typographical execution and original and selected matter. CONDITIONS. THE RURAL REPOSITORY will be published every other Saturday in the Quarto form, and will contain twenty-six numbers of eight pages each, with a title page and index to the volume, making in the whole 208 pages. It will be printed in handsome style, on Medium paper of a superior quality, with new type; making, at the end of the year, a neat and tasteful volume, containing matter equal to one thousand duodecimo pages, which will be both amusing and instructive in future years. TERMS.-The Twelth volume, (Third New Series) will commence on the 6th of June next, at the low rate of One Dollar per anum in advance, or One Dollar & Fifty Cents at the expiration of three months from the time of subscribing. Any person, who will remit us Five Dollars, free of postage, shall receive six copies, and any person, who will remit us Ten Dollars, free of postage, shall receive twelve copies and one copy of either of the previous volumes. No subscriptions received for less than one Book & Job Printing, Of all descriptions, neatly executed, with Ink of different colors, on new and handsome type, at the shortest notice and on the most reasonable terms, at this office. THE RURAL REPOSITORY. IS PUBLISHED EVERY OTHER SATURDAY, AT HUDSON, N. Y. BY Wm. B. Stoddard. It is printed in the Quarto form, and will contain twenty-six numbers of eight pages each, with a title page and index to the volume. TERMS.-One Dollar per annum in advance, or One Dollar and Fifty Cents, at the expiration of three months from the time of subscribing. Any person, who will remit us Five Dollars, free of postage, shall receive six copies, and any person, who will remit us Ten Dollars, free of postage, shall receive twelve copies and one copy of the ninth or tenth volumes. No subscriptions received for less than one year. All orders and Communications must be post paid to receive attention. THE RURAL REPOSITORY. DEVOTED TO POLITE LITERATURE, SUCH AS MORAL AND SENTIMENTAL TALES, BIOGRAPHY, TRAVELING SKETCHES, POETRY, AMUSING MISCELLANY, ANECDOTES, VOL. XI-II. NEW SERIES.] SELECT TALES. From the New York Mirror. Catharine. CHAPTER II. HUDSON, N. Y. SATURDAY, APRIL 25, 1835. immediately won by her extreme distress. He told her that he would take her provided she could get ready immediately. I am ready now, sir,' said she, with trembling eagerness, and Oh, dear sir, be my friend, and save me from the dreadful evil that will befall me if I remain.' 6 Melted by the grief of a beautiful woman, and a lovelier one than Catharine he had never seen, he determined to protect her from the dreaded evil, whatever it might be. He led her immediately to the vessel, and, after hastening every one on board, he set sail. IT was but little indeed that Catharine knew of herself; she understood that her parents had died in her infancy, and that she had been taken by a friend of theirs, when she was only two years of age. She had been carefully educated under this guardian's eye, and no expense had been spared by him. Mr. Craven Bowers lived in complete retirement, never cultivating any one's friendship nor acquaint-Catharine was unable to realize it. The high ance, and seemed only to exist for the purpose of educating his young charge, toward whom, although there was uniform attention, there was but little tenderness. At length, when Catharine had attained her seventeenth year, the manners of the gentleman changed; he grew more fond of conversing with his ward, and strove by every means to lessen the distance that had hitherto existed between them. He anally, after a year of assiduous attention, told her that his sole object in educating her was to make her his wife. So sudden had seen the whole affair, that excitement that she labored under, soon subsided, and after the first torture of seasickness was over, she became sensible that she was a wanderer, unknown and unprotected, and with but a few guineas in her purse. She felt a confidence, however, in that power that had hitherto befriended her, and she congratulated herself on having escaped from the misery of being compelled to marry one so every way repugnant to her feelings. and beautiful a woman traveling alone to a distant country. We have already seen that they landed on the first of November, and that Catharine, by another instance of good luck, found shelter from the storm in the house of Damy Field. The voyage was a rough and a short one. There were but three passengers-a man, his wife, and son, all of whom were too sick to Catharine heard this with horror, so chill-speculate on the circunstance of so young ing and uniform had been his demeanor from her earliest recollection, that she could only feel respect for his friendship, and she shrunk with fright and disgust at the proposal. She had no friends; Mr. Bowers had suppressed all attempts at intimacies, and Catharine saw no one but her masters. Half the year was spent in traveling from place to place, and at the time that he opened his plans they were in Liverpool, where they had been for several weeks. Never was a young creature left so destitute; she had no resource, no one to fly to, and she almost gave herself up to despair; when a simple domestic, who saw her distress, told her to go to another country, for that nothing could be worse than to be forced to marry a man, not only old enough to be her father, but whose disposition was so sullen and morose. Towards evening the wind fell, and old Jack was despatched with a note to the Captain, acquainting him with her present dilemma, and begging him to come to her as soon as possible. The messenger soon returned, with the melancholy tidings that several vessels had been driven out to sea. and among them was the ship Sterling, captain Grant; but it was hoped that they would weather the gale, and reach some other port. Faint as this hope was, Catharine clung to it, she could not for a moment believe, that a friend raised so opportunely for her would be thus hastily snatched away; and instead of being more depressed, she felt a confidence in once again seeing the kind-hearted man, who had so humanely assisted her. Ignorant of what might be the consequences of such a step, and the time fast approaching when Mr. Bowers intended to make her his wife, and dreading her ability to refuse to comply, she determined to make her escape Every ring of the bell seemed to announce as far from him as possible. Packing up her the arrival of the master of the house, and it portmanteau, and disposing of a few trinkets rung through poor Catherine's heart as her through the means of the domestic, she knell: but he came not, and she continued walked hastily down to a vessel that she her labors on the cap, which she not only was informed sailed that day for America. finished, but succeeded in placing properly Fortune favored poor Catharine, for captain on Damy's head, who submitted to the Grant was a tender-hearted man, and was operation with silence and pleasure. &c. NO. 24. A few judicious remarks on the singular costume of her friend, and a willingness to assist in new modeling her, had the desired effect, and the evening passed in unusual quiet for Damy. She seemed in a delightful reverie, with some strange plot floating in her head, and she appeared too happy to talk. This circumstance was beneficial to Catharine, whose spirits, long harassed, required rest, and they retired for the night, mutually pleased with each other. The morning was mild, and at ten o'clock the dreaded Mr. Bingley made his appearence. Catharine, very much agitated, begged that he inight not know of her intrusion until she was gone. She had tried in vain to discuss the matter with Damy, who, with much pertinacity, waved every reference to the thing, and nothing had been resolved upon when the moment arrived for her decision. Like all young minds, she hoped that something favorable would occur, by which she could be benefitted; but the arrival of the master of the house roused her from her supineness, and catching hold of Damy, who was quitting the room, she entreated her to go with her to some friend, however humble, who would suffer her to remain in safety until she could decide on the proper course. to pursue. Damy looked this way and that, in a strange kind of perplexity; but making a sudden effort, she extricated herself from Catharine's grasp, and bidding her to remain quiet, and fear nothing until she returned, she fairly Secure of her locked her in the room. precious charge, she went gaily to the parlor. Oh, my good Damy,' said the gentleman, how do you do? Were you terrified during the storm? I thought of you a great deal, knowing your terror.' · 6 Terror, sir,' said she, giggling, what should terrify me-a little bit of rain and a few puffs of wind is not much.' A little bit of rain and a few puffs of wind, Damy! why it rained and hailed harder than I ever knew it; and as to the few puffs of wind, I thought it a hurricane. But, now I see the reason; you have employed yourself to better advantage than popping your head out of the doors and windows, as you generally do, during a storm. Why let me look at You look ten years younger than when you. I saw you last.' In truth the improvement was very manifest; her yellow locks were nicely put out of sight, saving a thin braid on her forehead, and the neat muslin cap was placed to the best advantage on her small head. There were shoulder-straps to her petticoat, which kept it on a line with the waist of her shortgown; the bandana handkerchief was still there, but as the lower and upper garment met, it was not visible, and her shoes were up at the heel. One hand was still, as usual, suspended midway in a kind of curve, but it was of a different hue, and a clean white pocket handkerchief hid the discolored palm. Why, what a pleasant metamorphose this is,' said Mr. Bingley, after surveying her altered appearance. What fairy has compelled you to this? Whoever it is I am very much pleased. No wonder that you did not heed the storm; you must have been very agreeably employed.' Oh, if any one could have seen the exquisite expression of honest Damy's countenance during this salutation of Mr. Bingley's! Her heart seemed too great for her thin bodyshe walked across the room holding her head sideways, and when the gentleman finished his speech, she absolutely laughed aloud in the fullness of her joy, he will be wanting to come to my room-but I can tell him, that in future he will always find it locked.' Why, Damy, what could he possibly want in your room; he never goes there, does he ?" 'He-no, indeed-he never came there but once, and then he started back like a tragedy actor, and said he was scomfished,' and that my room put him in mind of Mrs. Glass's parlor; and something more he said out of some Scotch book, that he is always reading, about one Jenny Dean. I told him that I did not take Scotch snuff, so he need not bring Scotch books up.' 'As he has never been but once, and seems not likely to trespass again, why need you lock your door?' 'Why-I don't know'-said the conscious Damy, getting a little bewildered, for she could not stand cross-questioning- I thought he might come now. Not if he dislikes the smell of snuff, as it Accustomed to the simplicity of his old seems he does. He would hardly venture friend, and considering this superfluous dis-again merely to see your old snuff-boxplay of it as a proof of her pleasure, both in would he, Damy ? his return, and in hearing his praise, he saw nothing more extraordinary in it than in the improvement in her dress and face; he only observed that he should not care to leave home once a month, if he could always find her thus neatly dressed. One would almost think that you have had a lover, or some agreeable companion during my absence.' Danny's heart, as she afterwards told Catharine, jumped to her mouth, and she was near betraying herself, but for the entrance of the hated Martin. A different current was thus given to her thoughts, and she was moved to anger when he ventured to compliment her on her good looks. Keep your place, sir,' said she, with an indignant toss of the head. Mr. Bingley, aware of the consequences of Damy's irritability, and not choosing that any sparring should take place in his presence, sent, Martin out of the room on some errand. I observe, Damy,' said he, that you and Martin do not agree together so well as wish, and as I value your peace of mind more than I do my own ease, for Martin is an excellent servant, I shall part with him as soon as I can supply his place; and as you really look neat, and have not taken even one pinch of snuff since you came in, you may pour out tea for me as usual, that is, if you choose.' Mr. Bingley expected to give Damy great pleasure by this offer, but times had altered greatly with her since the storm. She had now a companion of her own, one that she begau almost to doat upon, and to leave her at an hour when she could be at case and enjoy her society, merely for the pleasure of pouring out tea for a gentleman, who was so ready to prefer a common footman to her, was too great a sacrifice, much as she loved Mr. Bingley. And as to my She thanked him for his kindness, but said, that she might offend again, and that although Martin might be a good waiter, yet she would be glad to get rid of him. snuffing, if you have put up with it so long. he has no right to meddle. May be,' said the simpering and casting down her eyes, for she was afraid that her secret would peep ont, may be, I may in time leave off snuffing altogether. But that Martin is such a spy, My old snuff-box,' said she, indignantly, I guess he would see something more worth seeing than an old snuff-box-besides I burned that since you gave me this-and she began to feel for it. 6 Oh, no, Damy,' said he, dreading the sight of the box, I was only joking about the box, but I really begin to think that you have some one hidden in your room-I must go and take a peep.' than I expected-I could not hope that any oue but you, who are so tender-hearted, would take pity on a helpless stranger. You must try and think of some friend of yours, who will take me as a boarder, until I am able to know what I had better do.' Damy, thus called upon, almost the first time in her life, for advice, felt considerably elated, although her feelings were too strongly excited to allow what little judgment she possessed to be of much service. She shut one eye and held her head sideways, muddling her brain, or rather trying to separate the confused plans that she had been cogitating, ever since the inspection of Catharine's beautiful face; but it was in vain; she had but one idea that could be depended on, and that seemed to her too new yet to divulge. She considered and considered, but her thoughts flew back every time to one point, and she could only look imploringly on Catharine's agitated countenance, and show how deeply she sympathized. Catharine advanced towards the door, when Damy, catching hold of her gown, begged her to stop. Only wait until Mr. Bingley returns: he will be in at dinner, and as to his turning you out of the house, that is all nonsense; he would no more turn you out than he would me.' Turn me out,' said Catharine, with burning cheeks, I shall not stay to make the trial, and she pressed forward to the door.' Damy nimbly stepped before her and locked it. Mr. Bingley only said this in jest, as he Now, Miss Catharine,' said she, ‘just was leaving the room, having amused himself sit down and help me to think what is best sufficently with his simple housekeeper; but to be done; for as to your going out in the poor Damy, fancying him really in earnest,wild world withont knowing where to go, it is a gave herself up for lost. She threw herself thing that would break my heart.' on a chair in a great fright, and screamed out, Oh, don't go to my room, sir; you will frighten her-you will drive her away-she will leave us, if you even know she is here.' Who-what-who will I drive away? Compose yourself, I am not going to your room. I only said it in jest. But, Damy, have you really any one in your room-can you possibly have any one in the house that would be disagrecable to me? Poor, Damy, revived on hearing this. Disagreeable, Sir! I only wish that you could see her, you would find her other guess than disagreeable.' So Damy sobbed and wept. Poor Catharine, thus brought to a recollection of her forlorn state, felt it quite a relief to sit down and wait for the result of the more collected reflections of her simple friend. I wish that I could compose myself, Miss Catharine,' said the perplexed Damy; 'I have a plot-a plot.' In fact, the plot that honest Damy had nearly brought to perfection in her own mind, was no less a one than to get Mr. Bingley to fall in love with Catharine and marry her. This grand plan suggested itself on the first evening's investigation, and so completely had it taken possession of her fancy, that she had even mentally concluded all things, and gone through the marriage ceremony. CathMr.arine's going away at this juncture seemed to her like a parting between man and wife. Turn herself which way she would, this idea presented itself, and she broke out upou the astonished Catharine with this abrupt speech In the name of common sense, Damy, what does all this mean? make haste and tell me who is secured in your room.' But Damy refused to answer, and Bingley left the room, intending to learn in the course of the day who had thus entered his house in his absence and perplexed his old friend. His departure gave no relief to Damy, for now the sad truth must be told to Catharine that he knew of her being there; and, thought Damy, as she went along the passage, 'Where the poor thing is to go, now that quite shipwrecked, is more than I can tell.' her good captain is so far off, if, he is not stood already equipped for her departure. When Damy unlocked the door Catharine I knew it,' cried poor Damy, I told him that if he came to my room he would drive you away-but he wont come until after dinner; so Miss Catharine, let us sit down and think of what is best to be done.' arine; but he is a very shy gentleman, and 'He certainly will marry you, Miss Cathyou must give him time. Only stay one week and things will come naturally aboutbut don't hurry him.' She be Imagine Catharine's amazement. gan at length to think that Damy's simplicity must sometimes border on insanity, and that the unusual dilemma into which she had been thrown by her unfortunate intrusion, had hastened the infirmity. She sat perfectly still, therefore, watching Damy's movements, who, seeing her thus quiet, joyfully and hastily took the key from the inside, locked Catharine again in the room, and departed on her 'I cannot consent to stay another moment. my kind Damy. It is no more than right-"household affairs. |