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Barclay ground his teeth with rage.

tection of Atwood, and there, amid rejoicing friends “I shall leave it, be assured, but not to escape surrounded by all the happy associations of her tra from this absurd charge.”

youth, she gave her hand to her faithful lover. " Go then. I care not from what motive."

Barclay perished in a street brawl, in a forein Another instant, and Barclay had passed from the land, and the whole of her brother's estate fine is de room. Edith and her mother traveled to their former volved upon her. home in the beautiful land of Florida, under the pro

A VOICE FOR POLAND.

BY WY. HC. HOSMER.

Up, for encounter stern

While unsheathed weapons gleam; The beacon-fires of Freedom burn,

Her banners wildly stream; Awake! and drink at purple springs Lo! the “ White Eagle" flaps his wings

With a rejoicing scream, That sends an old, heroic thrill Through hearts that are unconquered still.

Death, with a red and shattered brand Yet clinging to the rigid hand,

A blissful fate would be, Contrasted with that darker doom A branded brow-a living tomb.

Leap to your saddles, leap!

Tried wielders of the lance, And charge as when ye broke the sleep

Of Europe, at the call of France: The knightly deeds of other years Eclipse, ye matchless cavaliers !

While plume and penon danceThat prince, upon is phantom steed, In Ellster ost your ranks shall lead.

Speed to the combat, speed!

And beat oppression down,
Or win, by martydom, the meed

or high and shadowless renown; Ye weary exiles, from afar Came back! and make the savage Czar

In terror clutch his crown; While wronged and vengeful millions pour Defiance at his palace-door. Throng forth with souls to dare,

From huts and ruined halls! On the deep inidnight of despair

A beam of ancient glory falls:
The knout, the chain and dungeon cave
To frenzy have aroused the brave;

Dismembered Poland calls,
And through a land opprest, betrayed,
Stalks Kosciusko's frowning shade.

Flock round the altar, flock!

And swear ye will be free; Then rush to brave the battle shock

Like surges of a maddened sea;

TO HER WHO CAN UNDERSTAND IT.

BY MAYNE REID.

They tell me, lady, that thy heart is changed

That on thy lip there is another name;
I'll not believe it—though for life estranged-

I know thy love's lone worship is the same.
The bee that wanders on the summer breath,

May wanton safely among leaves and flowers, But by the honied jar it clings till death

There is no change for hearts that loved like ours. You may not mock me 't is an idle game

The lip may lie, the eye with bright beguiling May, from the world, conceal a suffering flame,

But 't is the eye and not the heart is smiling; And I, too, have that power of deceiving,

By the strong pride of an unfeeling will, The cold and cunning world in its believing

What boots it all? The heart will suffer still. Comes there not o'er thy spirit, when 't is dreaming

In the lone hours of the voiceless night, When the sweet past like a new present seeming,

Brings back those rosy hours of love and light?

Comes there not o'er thy dreaming spirit then

Delicious joy-although 't is but a visionThat we have met, caressed and kissed again,

And revel still among those sweets Elysian? Comes there not o'er thy spirit when it wakes,

And finds, with sleep, the vision too bath parted A lone depression, till ihy proud heart aches,

And from thy burning orb the tear hath started! And with sad memories through thy bosom throngine,

Within thy heart's most secret deep recesses
Feel'st thou not then an agony of longing

To dream again of those divine caresses ?
To dream them o'er and o'er, or deem them real,

While penitence is speaking in thy sighs
For this, unlike thy dream, is not ideal

It brings the pallid cheek, the moistened eyes: Then, lady, mock not love so deeply hearted,

With that light seeming which deceit can giveThe love I promised thee, when last we partet,

Shall never be another's while you live.

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A PIC-NIC IN OLDEN TIME.

BY QUEVEDO.

(SEE ENGRAVING.)

Joy is as old as the universe, yet as young as a | yet untouched by the electric dart of love, and her une rose : and a pic-nic has of all places been its fancy free as the birds of air. elight, since the little quiet family fêtes champêtres Now it was quite natural that the gentle Alice, f Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. So it is of whom love had made so happy, should willingly o especial consequence in what reign of what king- enter into a conspiracy with her husband and a parom our clever artist bas laid his scene—and soothcel of the young people of the neighborhood against b say, from the diversified and pleasantly incon- the peace and comfort of her haughty sister—deemfruous costume and accessories of the picture, iting of course—as I myself am also of opinion—that hight puzzle an uninitiated to tell. But we, who are a young lady out of love ought to be supremely n the secrets of Maga, and to whom the very brain. miserable, whatever she herself may think about it. vorkings of her poets and painters are as palpable Keeping in view the peculiar requisites required is the crystal curdling of the lake beneath the filmy by Haughty in a lover, the plan was to get up an oldpreath of the Frost King, of course know all about fashioned pic-nic, at which a young friend of Squire , and will whisper in your ear the key to the pretty Deerdale, who was studying for an artist, and had harmonies of wood and sky and happy faces which just returned from Italy, where he had picked up a he has spread out in a sort of visible cavatina, or little music as well as painting, should be introduced dear little love-song, beneath your eye.

after a mysterious fashion, which would be sure to It was a gay time at Sweetbriar Lodge—for the inflame the imagination of the loveless lady. The fair Alice Hawthorn had just been married to the artist, according to the squire, was handsome as a Bquire of Deerdale, and the happy pair (new-married prince and eloquent as a minstrel, and his extensive people were even in those times happy, although practice in Rome had made him perfect master of hey were not so set down in the newspapers, had the fine arts, the art of making love included. So determined to spend the honey-moon quietly at the pic-nic was proposed that very evening, to take home, like sensible people, instead of posting off to place the next day. Hortensia, who was fond of froBath or Brighton, or mewing themselves up in some lick and fun as the best of them, albeit not yet in outlandish corner of the country, where they could love, fell at once into ihe snare; and the squire caresee and hear nothing but themselves, until they were lessly led the conversation to turn upon the sudden ready to commence the married life by being cloyed and unexpected arrival of the young Duke of St. with each other's society. The season was mid- James upon his magnificent estate adjoining Sweetsummer,

and the weather so balmy and beautiful briar Lodge, which he said had taken place that very that after wandering about in the woods and fields all day. day, and watching the moon creep stealthily up the “The duke," said the squire, “is, as you all have

sky to view herself in the fountain, one felt a long- heard, one of the most romantic and sentimental ing to make his bed on the fresh turf under the katy- youths in the world, and quite out of the way of our did's bower, and sleep there. Of course I don't ordinary extravagant, matter-of-fact young nobility. mean the young and happy bridegroom. He never I had the pleasure of meeting him when I was in dreamed of being absent from his Alice,; and he Rome, and could not help being charmed with him. even felt quite jealous of her little sister Emma, who He read and wrote poetry divinely, played the manused sometimes to come and put her laughing, roguish dolin like St. Cecilia, and sung like an improvisa. face and curly head between the lovers, as they were

tore. I met him 10-day, as he was approaching sitting on the sofa or reclining on the green turf by home in his carriage, and found him, as well as I the little fountain.

could judge from a five minutes' conversation, the But Alice had another sister, older than herself, same as ever. I say nothing—but should a freshand who had already refused several excellent offers looking, golden-haired, dreamy-eyed youth be seen of marriage_declaring that she intended to live and at our pic-nic to-morrow, I hope he will be greeted die single, unless she should fall in love with some with the courtesy and welcome due not only to a wandering minstrel or prince in disguise, like Lalla neighbor but a man of genius." Rookh. Her name was Hortensia; but on account This adroitly concocted speech was drank in like of her proud indifference to the attentions and com- wine by the unsuspicious Hortensia. duke! a pliments which were every where offered to her poet! a romantic man of genius! What was it wonderful beauty, she was usually called Haughty made her heart beat so rapidly?-her heart, that had Hawthorn-a name which seemed to please her bel- never beat out of time save over the page of the poet ter than all the flatteries of which she was the object. or the novelist-or may be in the trance of some beauShe was already twenty-two, and ripening into the tiful midnight dream, such as love to hover around full magnificence of glorious womanhood-her heart the pillows of fair maidens, and who can blame them?

..

The next morning, as Willis says of one of his absorbed in the music, and tears of sympatby and Sara fine days, was astray from Paradise; and bright and rapture ready to fall from her eyes. It was a clear early our pic-nickers, comprising a goodly company case of love at first sight. of young people, married and single, with several From this pleasant reverie both musician and beautiful children, including of course the roguish listener were suddenly roused by little Emma, wbu, Emma, were on the field selected for the day's cam- raising her head and shaking back the long ringlets paign. It was a lovely spot. Under a noble oak from her face, exclaimed, whose limbs, rounded into a leafy dome, shed a pal- “Oh, sister, hear that! There goes the champagre, pitating shadow around a sweet little fountain, and I am so hungry. Come, let us go to dinner." guarded by a marble naiad, gathered the merry com- "Excuse me, madam,” exclaimed the stranger, pany upon the green velvet ottoman, da isy-spangled, ceasing to play and springing to his feet, - you get that ran around this splendid natural saloon, bower beautiful little monitor is right. I was already far. and drawing-room combined. The day had fulfilled getting myself and venturing to dream as of old;" the golden promise of the early morning; the air, im- and he offered his arm to Hortensia, with that polite sve pregnated with a sparkling, effervescing sunshine, freedom not only permitted, but enjoined, by the me was as bewitching as the breath of champagne foam, etiquette of the pic-nic. and our adventurers were in the liveliest and gayest "And do you call it forgetfulness to dream?" }; spirits.

quired Hortensia. Noon was culminating, and the less excitable and “ With so fair a reality before me, yes; bat at more worldly portion of the company began to be other times to dream is to live.” thinking seriously of the bountiful refection which “Oh, yes, it is nice to dream!'' broke in tbe little had been provided for the grand occasion. Horten- Emma. Almost as nice as a wedding. Now las sia, it was observed by Squire Deerdale and his night I dreamt that you were married, Haughts, like wife, and the others who were in the secret, had sister Alice." seemed absent and thoughtful, all the morning, and A lambent rosy flame seemed to envelop for an little Emma had teased her sufficiently for not play- | instant the beautiful Hortensia, disappearing instantly, ing with her as usual. At this moment a young man yet leaving its scarlet traces on cheek and brow. was seen coming down the broad sloping glade at “What say you, my pretty one," said the stranger, se the foot of which the party were seated. The squire patting the lovely child upon the head, “what saya immediately rose and welcomed the stranger, intro- you to a sandwich and a glass of wine with me, here ducing him to his bride and sister-in-law, and ex. on the greensward? (They had now approached pressing his pleasure that he had come. "We the table-if a snow-white damask spread upon almost began to fear,” he added, “ that you had for- velvet grass, and loaded with tempting viands cond gotten our humble festival.”

be called so.) Is not that better than dreams?" "A fête thus embellished,” replied the stranger, “ I love wine, sir, but mamma and sister say I bowing with peculiar grace to the ladies, and glanc- shouldn't drink it, because it makes my eyes red. ing admiringly at Hortensia," is not an affair to be so Now your eyes are as bright as stars. Do you easily forgotten by a wanderer who comes, after drink wine?” years of exile, to revive beneath the blue skies and It was the stranger's turn to blush. And this liale bluer eyes of his native land."

childish prattle seemed to have removed the barrier “But your mandolin, Signor Foreigner; I hope of strangership from between the two young pezple, you have not forgotten that?”

who exchanged glances of a sort of merry resat:, "Oh no indeed," returned the stranger with a and seemed to understand each other as if they were musical laugh, “I never forget my little friend, old friends. whose harmonies have often been my only company. That was a merry meal, “all under the green houd Here it comes," pointing to a lad who just then came tree," and on the margin of that sweet little fountain, up, bearing a handsome though outlandish-looking whose waters came up to the very lip of the ters guitar gingerly across his arm.

which it refreshed with a sparkling coolness that Another of the party had also brought his guitar, ever renewed the brightness of the flowers upon its and the two were soon tinkling away at different bosom. After the dinner was over, a dance a parts of the grounds—the latter surrounded by half a proposed, and the services of the handsome stranger, dozen young men and women, and several beautiful as musician, were cheerfully offered and premiape! children; while the stranger, throwing himself on accepted. It was observed, however, that Hortensi. the grass at the feet of Hortensia, upon whose lap usually crazy for dancing, strolled pensively about nestled the little Emma, began a simple ballad of the with little Emma at her side, and at length seamet olden time—while the squire and his bride stood herself on a little grassy bank, remote front against the old oak behind IIortensia. At length the dancers, yet where she could overlook the scrie. strain of the young musician changed, subsiding into There was a little pause in the dance, and scare low and plaintive undulations.

Deerdale approached the stranger and whispered, “It is time for us to go,” whispered Alice to her “Do you like her ?" husband;

we are evidently de trop here”—and the "She 's as beautiful as Juno, but I dare we hope wedded pair glided noiselessly off, casting mis- that she would ever love a poor vagabond ike me chievous glances at the haughty Hortensia, who sat | She deserves a prince of the blood, at the very cash

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