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Kate was right; with one or two exceptions, I times looking wistfully in the child's face until a was everywhere treated with respect instead of flood of tears came to her relief ; but more constantly coolness or insolence.
her senses were wrapped in a dull torpor that was “Mr. Bernard Orgreve,” said one old man to more sad than weeping. When Kate explained to me,
pay me when you can or when you like ; if her that she was to go and live with Bernard, she never, my grand-children will be none the worse at first resolutely refused; but at last we succeeded for a few pounds. I knew your father all his life ; in persuading her to consent. My kind partner he was an honorable man, and it was no fault of found me a small house, and there we agreed his if trouble came to him in his old age. I should be the home of my mother and Dora. Miles don't mind waiting for what he owed me, and I would finish his school-term in a few months, and should be ashamed of myself if I doubted for a then we must think of something for him. moment your father's son.”
“But you, Kate," I asked, when we had decided Another, whom I had known myself, and whose all these things ;
have said nothing of yourfamily I had attended, listened silently to my state- self; what are you thinking to do ?—I can never ment, and then said with a brusque manner which part with you." I should have thought unfeeling, had I not seen a
“ It will be painful, Bernard, but there is no strange moistness in his eyes :
other chance. It is hard enough upon you to have “My good sir, I wonder what you think I am the whole care of my mother and Dora, who are so made of! Did you not save the life of my pretty helpless ; I am the only one who can do anything ; little Nelly in that dreadful fever; and do you think it is fitting that I should try." I could look at her sweet, healthy, smiling face,
“And what will you do, my poor Kate ?" and remember that your father's children were the
“I will go out as a governess.” poorer for my taking your money, even though he At first I vehemently opposed this plan, not did legally owe it to me? Mr. Bernard, I won't through pride, for, alas ! my pride had been sorely have a penny of it; and to show you that I mean bowed, but because I could not bear to have my favorwhat I say, look here!"
ite sister subjected to the caprices of others, without He took my father's bond, and pushed it between a home or a brother to shield her. But Kate sucthe bars of the grate, making several fierce attacks ceeded at last in persuading me that she was right. at it with the poker until it was quite consumed. “If I do meet with a little unkindness," she Then putting his hands in his pockets with a com- said, "you know I have a quiet spirit to make the placent smile, the worthy man added,
best of it. I am not beautiful, and have some lite “ Now this matter is ended, so come and see dignity, I hope, so that I can take care of myself. how well my Nelly looks, and let my wife give you And then, not being quite so proud as my elder a cup of tea.'
brother, I shall not suffer so much if I should meet I went home with a full heart. “ You spoke with a few slights. But I do truly believe that the truly, dear Kate," said I, when I had told her the treatment the world gives us depends much upon result of my mission, which brought many bright ourselves.” tears to her soft gray eyes, making them softer
" And shall we never have a home together “the world is indeed full of goodness.” again, Kate ?" “ If we do but strive to deserve it, Bernard. How “ Yes, if you get rich, or Dora marries, I will much do we not owe to our excellent father, whose come and keep house for you, Bernard; that is, if virtues have brought a blessing on his children even you have not by that time a better and dearer housewhen he is no more!” And Kate repeated in her keeper than your sister Kate.” low tones a rhyme from one of the grave, wise old
I smiled, and the conversation ceased. Kate, English poets that she loved so much :
having gained this point, set bravely to accomplish
her end, and soon found a proffered home in a famOnly the actions of the just
ily to which even I could not bring an objection. Smell sweet, and blossom in the dust.
We persuaded my mother to take Dora, and see And now we had to think of the future. Our that all was going on well in her future home. dear old home could be ours no longer; the factory, Imagining, or at least hoping, that her absence was house, and furniture must be sold, and Kate wisely but temporary, she departed, thus avoiding the pang thought that the sooner all was over the better. of a last farewell to the dear scene of her long and My poor mother clung helplessly and hopelessly to happy wedded life. When my mother was gone, her two elder children, suffering us to arrange all Kate and I were left alone to prepare for our deas we thought best. Her whole life and energies parture. Three busy days allowed us no time to nad been so wrapped up in my father, she had been think, for we had to arrange all preparatory to the so accustomed to look to him for support in every- sale. But for this, it would have been a mournful thing, that her mind, never of the highest order, thing to witness the havoc in our pretty home ;sunk powerless under the blow. She moved me our dismantled nursery, our pleasant drawing-room, chanically about the house, arranging my father's full of so many silent remembrances, my father's papers and clothes, as if he were alive, and exam- books, Margaret's piano, and Herbert's easy-chair. ining her widow's weeds with a touching earnest- All were tokens that death and change had been
She kept Dora, who was my father's pet, busy amongst us, and that we should be no more and very like him, constantly by her side, some as we once had been, until we met
than ever ;
No wanderer lost,
“ Now let us go," said she, as the fire sank to A family in heaven!
its last embers, and the chilly night began to be Kate and I sat mournfully at our last meal, the felt. And yet we lingered, walked through every night before the sale. We were both weary, and room, and were long in unfastening the hall door. an hour's rest was very welcome. We sat in my which closed upon us at last with a sound which father's study, the only room in the house that pre- rang mournfully through the half-empty dwelling. served a semblance of comfort. Yet it was carpet We stood a few moments in the garden. The less, and the furniture was heaped carelessly to- old house rose clearly defined in the frosty moongether, except the two chairs which we occupied. light, and the fir-trees cast their dark shadows, as Kate's hand trembled as she poured out the tea ; in our childish days, when we used to steal out to she had been very calm all day, like a brave-hearted play at hide-and-seek on clear nights like this. girl as she was, but she looked ill and worn, and Where were we all now ? Two sleeping in there was a quivering on her lips at times, which the churchyard hard by, one far over the waters, showed how much she struggled for composure. the rest scattered ; only Kate and I remained to
" I think we have done all that is to be done, bid adieu to our dear old home. With our hands Bernard,” she said; “ you have worked very hard, fast clasped together, my sister and I stood long and I begin to feel tired myself. I am rather glad and mournfully, and then, as in that other time of that we accepted Mrs. Woodward's offer for the deep sorrow, Kate's arm encircled my neck, and night; the house looks so desolate.” Kate's yes she wept in the bitterness of grief. At last we glanced round the room until they became dim with turned away, and quitted forever the home of our tears, and I will confess that my own were far from childhood. seeing clearly.
From the National Era.
Joy floweth free in an unmingled tide, BEETHOVEN'S SPIRIT waltz. Nor love itself desires or hopes for aught beside. STRANGE, wild, rich music :-how it thrills and The music changes-heaven's harps are ringing thrills
Such holy measures, that e'er the thought is My inner heart-a piercing melody!
still And then such strains of sadness that it fills Cherubic voices now their anthems singing,
My brooding thought with many a phantasy That Music's soul itself these voices fill, From the dark, trembling depths of memory ;
And every feeling moveth at their will : Of all that was so beautiful in life
Ah! there 's that strain again--and now in Voices that wake the heart to ecstasy, Treasures with which my early morn was rife
The vision fades-I own 't was human skill, But perished all, amid 'earth's changes, toil, and The sweetest sound the touch of sorrow wears, strife.
And Music still on earth, in Pilgrim's weeds ap
pears. There is that soft and tender air—the voice
Of her that was so meek, with eyes of light, Which touched the heart, yet bade it still re
From the Anglo-Saxon. joice
THE HORSE. A gentle spirit clothed with holy might;
"We all have our hobbies." It speaks to me again-e'en with affright Thy well-known tones, my sister, now I hear, A horse is the treasure we English love best.
Nay, ladies, forgive, though the truth be confessed, And the eye strains as it would burst the sight
You may sigh if you will, thought 't were better to Through the dark folds of sense, and see thee near :
laugh, In vain-poor, anxious orb—it melts into a tear.
For we 'd rather be hunting than wooing by half!And now a choir of voices float along, From the far distance, softly stealing o'er me, Man scarce seems the noblest when placed by his
See, see where he stands in his beauty and pride! As music o'er the waters, or the song
side. Which visits us in dreams so tenderly, We think good angels make the harmony
What strength in his limbs as he spurns the dull Are ye with sweet accord all singing now,
ground, Once loved on earth, but now in heaven that be? How bold his full eye as he glances around !From streams of light, from banks where amaranths Stand, stand till I'm mounted !—now off where Do ye come down to weep with those who weep Over fence, ditch, or gate-I can stick to you still — below ?
Deep and wide flows the brook-stay! 't were
nadness to do it! And now methinks I'm carried far away,
One plunge and one snort—we are over-or through As on the bosom of the summer air
it! And strange, soft, spiritual lights around me play,
Nay, frown not, fair dames, nature cannot be And visions open of the bright and fair,
changed ; That now the wearied, wounded heart repair— It is useless to mutter—“ mad fool, or deranged !" Oh, happy world! where love and peace You must needs yield the palm, poor disconsolate abide
Mentors; Oh, blessed ones! I see, I see you there! The horse is our better-half-English are centaurs !
BY MRS. WARD.
From Bentley's Miscellany. send in old Wilmot and his daughter, my mother's LEAVES FROM ADMIRAL LORD MINORCA's maid. My brother and I went out upon the sunny NOTE-BOOK.
lawn to play. He, rejoicing in the beauty of the day, soon forgot the scene we had witnessed, and
called to me to join him in his gambols, while I, Almost all of us bear in our hearts the impress half puzzled at my father's and mother's distress, of some event from which we date even our first sat down under the shadow of some limes, heedconsciousness of existence; and strange it is that, ing him not. His merry laugh, his bounding step while important circumstances, occurring in our however, were checked by Wilmot coming to us, riper years, leave comparatively little impression, and bidding us go round to the back of the house, the incidents in youth, with which our minds have where my mother could not hear our voices. little or no connection, are often fairly stereotyped Where my mother could not hear our voices! on our brain, we know not how or why.
She, whose life had seemed to depend on our But I remember no trifling incidents. The lightest look or word, who had been chiddenone great event of my life cast all else into obliv- tenderly—but still chidden by my father, for her ion, for truly it brought an undying sorrow on our reluctance in allowing us to spend our mornings house, and caused my heart to “wax old as doth at Dr. Mitford's, the good rector's, for the pura garment” within my boyish breast.
pose of receiving his instructions.
The peaceful period of my life was over ; the Even now, mother, I see at times thy fair, thy next scene enacted in the drama of that life was a gentle, and most loving face; I hear in my dreams tragical one. My father, leaving my mother to the thy low, sweet, earnest, voice, echoing like mourn care of Wilmot and his daughter, was observed to ful music; and my father, with his high, proud dart through the open window of the oriel without brow, his beautiful but rare smile, is often at my his hat. My mother, after a long swoon, was side when I am alone and pondering on old times borne to her bed, and when I next saw her she under the shadow of dark memories.
was a widow. My father had himself sought a Sometimes he comes in another guise, and as watery grave in the small lake in the grounds at I last saw him, but of this anon.
I can remember the silence of the Some years ago, my mother, my father, my house, the whispers of the servants on the stairyoung brother and myself, were one morning as- case, in the lobbies, and the empty rooms, and sembled in the little oriel library at home, when Wilmot forbidding us to leave the house, especthe old butler brought in the letter-bag. My father ially desiring us not to approach the lodge. had taken down a book, and my mother, leaning I-spoiled boy as I was 5- I disobeyed him. In on his shoulder, was reading some sweet passages the dusk of the summer's evening, I crept out of aloud. The bag lay, till she had ceased, upon the very window through which my unhappy the table, and then my father, handing me the key, father had last passed alive, and making my way desired me to open it.
under cover of the shrubs that fringed the sloping “ Let me, let me,” said Harry, and I permitted lawn, I hurried to the lodge. Wilmot's caution him to draw the letters forth.
against going there convinced me that my father I think I see my father lay his book hurriedly had been carried thither, instead of being brought aside, and my mother bend anxiously over him, as home, as we were informed by the servants he he tears open one, the seal and edges of which pro
had been. There were lights streaming through claim it the herald of death's doings. Mother! the closed shutters of one window. I climbed mother! how pale you looked! what despair was over the little paling near it, and looked through painted in your countenance !
a crevice into the apartment.
Was it a vision Whence arose all this sorrow I knew not; at that met my eyes ? unaccustomed as they were to the time I was scarcely capable of comprehending ought but the beautiful in this world ; I could the nature of it, for, although twelve years of age, scarcely bear to look on what I saw. Was I in I had had no intimate associates but my brother ; a dream? What was that cloud of white stretched I had seen nothing of the world, beyond the forth upon two common deal tables placed toboundaries of the village near which we lived. gether. There was the outline of a human form,
The letter announced the death of my father's there was the sound of lamentation in the narrow first cousin, and his only son : they had perished room, the lodge-keeper's wife mourning the dead off the Isle of Wight, while bathing; the father, thing laid there in its shroud. it was supposed, in his endeavors to save his son, Wilmot himself was there arranging sconces had failed in the rescue, and was sacrificed himself. round the dull walls, and the number of chairs, My father was now, therefore, Earl of Wallingford : placed uniformly together, gave me some idea of he did not announce it to us, but I gathered it from an inquest having been held there. My first imhis conversation with my mother. I heard him pulse was to call Wilmot, but my tongue clove to bitterly regretting it; I saw her sit with her hands the roof of my mouth. I lingered long, spellrigidly clasped in agony before her ; I saw her bound ; and when I had seen the little room lips turn pale, her eyes close, and then she fell lighted I was about to retrace my steps, when I heavily down at her husband's feet. I can re saw Wilmot raise the white covering from the member him, telling us to leave the room, and corpse.
I remember but my father's dead face, livid, / disposition drove her into the arms of my fineyet so little distorted, as to bear the appearance tempered father, whose elegance of taste and reof being in a deep sleep; then a choking sensa- finement of feeling were strange contrasts to the tion in the throat arrested the scream on its pas- overbearing tyrant of her home; she had, in a mosage from my heart to my lips ; and all was blank ment of misery, when a blow from her brutal hustill I found myself on a sofa in my mother's bed- band shivered the last slender links of duty and room. In spite of all her agony at my father's propriety into atoms, yielded to my father's pasloss, she had missed me. She would have me sionate entreaties that she would fly with him. brought to her. My young brother was there Before a divorce could be obtained, and a marriage
Worn out with his bewildered sorrow, his effected, I was born. They were united on the toys lay idly scattered about the room, and he, death of my mother's husband, and before the with his arm stretched across me, his long curls birth of my second brother; and as my father had sweeping my cold clammy face, lay fast asleep the disposal of his own property, my position, as beside me. In that chamber of anguish and deso- an illegitimate son, would perhaps never have been lation he seemed the only link between heaven and made known to me but for the event which gave my mother, for what was I now to her but a my father the title and entailed estates of the heavy curse?
Earldom of Wallingford. She-poor, pale, haggard creature—was sit There sat I then looking out on the fair face ting up in her bed watching us. The good rec- of nature; the peace of the scene before me illtor, Doctor Mitford, sat by her with the Book of accorded with the turmoils raging at my heart ; Comfort before him. Still she looked distracted. but some trifling circumstances, the sight of a All at once she broke into a passion of tears, and, pointer my father had been fond of, and an old weeping long and bitterly, became calmer at last, hunter, who had been permitted to spend his last relieved by this natural burst of anguish. It days in peaceful idleness, upset me. awoke my young brother, who, flying to her, was taking them past the window, away from the mingled his tears with hers. Weak as I was, neighborhood of the lawn, fearing my mother scarcely certain of where I was, I insisted on should see them. At sight of these familiar obrising; and ere the sun set that night Doctor jects a shower of tears relieved me, and long Mitford explained to my brother and myself, as after I had ceased to cry bitterly the tears still tenderly as he could, the cause of the late terrible trickled silently down my cheeks. I know not
how long I sat there, but I was roused from my I, the elder, was an outcast on the world with sorrowsul revery by perceiving my young brother scarce any provision. I was a natural son! My at my side. younger brother was the heir to title, fortune, “See,” said he, “ I have brought you the new honors, power, and the distinction of a high name. fishing-rod Doctor Mitford gave me on my birthI had no prospects; I, the first-born, was a curse day. You admired it so much that I am sure to myself, my mother, and my self-murdered you will think it worth having, and I have filled father. My young brother Harry was Earl of my writing-desk, which is newer than yours, with Wallingford, while I *
pens and paper and sealing-wax, and here it is for I can remember when my brother was made to you, and my drawing-box. You shall have comprehend that he was rich and noble, and “ that everything of mine. I will give all to you that I I was something despicable,” for he soon gathered can. Brother! dear brother Edward ! do not all this—that he was very unhappy. He who turn away your head, as if you were angry. You had never been separated from me, who had been cannot think how unhappy I am ; this title they taught to respect my opinions even in our plays as' talk so much about makes me wretched. How an elder brother's right-he, whose lessons had can that give me pleasure which has been the been lightened by my sharing them, whose pleas- calise of my father's death and my mother's misures had been mine, and who had been accustomed ery? Brother Edward,” said the boy, looking to no other companion, could not bear to be thus up as if silently appealing to Heaven as a witness elevated while I was undeservedly cast down. of his vow," I never will be Lord Wallingford as
I, meanwhile, would not approach my mother. long as you live and are nameless. No one can Something of sullenness there was in my temper- make me take up the title ; I have asked Doctor ament on the evening succeeding Dr. Mitford's Mitford all about it; he wont give me any advice disclosure, as I sat at the oriel window looking at present, but tells me not to decide too hastily. out upon the lawn where I had spent so many un- I never shall change my resolution, unless, and clouded hours. My father's funeral was to take who knows but it may be so ?-unless you gain a place on the following day. The verdict had been title for yourself.”. brought in "
temporary insanity." God knows it Poor child !-little he knew of the worldly was a correct one, for my unhappy father's brain price set on such baubles. I answered him by must have been bewildered with the agony of de- flinging my arms round his neck, and Doctor spair when the consequences of sin burst on him Mitford found us mingling our tears together. and my wretched mother.
Ah! from what a pure and consecrated fountain did It were a long story to dwell on her early his- those tears spring! My mother, too ill to bear the tory. Married young to a man whose savage least excitement, never mentioned the subject,
though we now saw her every day ; a settled mel-1 to the skin. I had five pounds in my pocket, and ancholy had succeeded the first paroxysms of de- knėw not whither to turn for advice or assistance. spair.
I had made my way up to town by a coach, on My resolution was formed before my father's the top of which I had with difficulty obtained a funeral was over; my only companion, besides seat, when I was some miles from home. The my brother, had been a midshipman, a relation of morning after my arrival, I removed to other Dr. Mitford. I determined on leaving home, and quarters, fearing my mother would send in search striving to carve out an honorable career for my- of me to those inns where the coaches from our self. I became at once a man in thought and county put up. deed. My brother's docile disposition resembled “God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb." my mother's; mine had more of my father's Fortune favored me by throwing me in the way sterner metal in it. He was brave, though of Captain Melton, who had frequently dined at his last act was one little indicative of it—but my father's, and whose son was the midshipman I then the cause! the disgrace, not of himself have alluded to. Knowing him well as a man of but of his wife and his first-born ! What marvel kindness, generosity, and honor, I at once told that he wanted courage to stand by and witness him all the circumstances that had led to my presthat!
ent forlorn situation. He took me himself to one
of the lords of the admiralty, Lord Islingford ; he Never can I forget the last hour spent, as a bade me tell my own story. The nobleman's boy, under the roof to which I had been accus- lip twitched nervously, and his eye dimmed at my tomed from my infancy. My brother and I had narration.
When he had heard me out, he gave always occupied the same room ; our little beds me over to the care of Captain Melton, who had stood side by side, with the pictures of our pa- just got the command of a frigate. As I left him, rents hanging between them. Worn out with the the old lord laid his hand upon my head, and sorrows of the past week, Harry had gone to rest blessed me with a solemn voice and an expression before his usual time. He was sleeping peace of pity. I never forgot that. fully, though a tear lay on his cheek. There lay the Earl of Wallingford—my younger brother ! Opportunities offered for my distinguishing —while I, scarcely knowing by what name to call myself. Our ship was on the African station. myself, looked up at my father's and my mother's Death and disease among my shipmates, gave me, picture with mingled feelings of pity and re- in a short space of time, my promotion. The old proach. I had packed up a few clothes by de- lord bore me ever in his mind. My rise to a grees, and poor Harry's gift of the drawing-box lieutenancy was a complete puzzle to those who (the smallest article) among them. I had resolved did not know my history, and shortly afterwards I on getting to sea under the patronymic of Fitz- was removed from the frigate Captain Melton had Edward. It was the only one to which I felt I commanded for he was now an admiral—to the had any right.
flag-ship on the Cape station. It was not long I pass over the last “good night!” exchanged before I was placed in command of a brig of war, between my mother and myself. A note found on and sent to the western side of Africa. my pillow, after my departure, explained all ; it It were ill done to recite my “perils by sea concluded in these words ; “ Rest assured, mother, and land” on and off that coast,
“ the grave of that I will strive to be an honor to you yet. I Europeans.” Despair had made me brave. The leave you, in the hope that I, having chosen my resolution to “do or die” was indomitable. My own path, my beloved brother will assume his officers and men were, in verity, the “bravest of rights. Mother, and brother, God bless you ! the brave." Strong iron fellows, selected from Farewell !"
crews who had served principally in this part of I lingered by my brother's side; he was in the Atlantic, and were therefore well-inured to the deep repose ; I knelt down by his bed, and im- climate and their work. Prize after prize we took plored God's blessing on his innocent head. Ah! into the different bays of the Cape ; my little dark now, as I refer to the past, I feel I can remember brig soon obtained the name of “ The Pirate's the long, long kiss imprinted on his smooth young Terror ;' and, at two-and-twenty, I was again in brow. I remember, too, sitting down and scan- England, having earned a fair fortune in prizening every nook and corner of our little chamber, money, and, what was better, a distinguished and wondering if I should ever see them or Harry name. again ; and, gazing long on his beautiful face, his My brother, meanwhile, had been true to his free limbs, his bared arm-flung over his head, first resolution ; love for his mother and myself radiant with its golden curls—his child-like sinile had confirmed it. He was now, however, fast parting his bright lips, the sound of his breathing approaching his majority, and I thought it likely in his calm sleep; while I, little older than him that the assumption of the Wallingford estates self, was already old in irremediable sorrow and would lead to that of the title. I wished indeed disgrace.
it might. I did not write at once to make inquiAt eight o'clock the next night, I, who had ries. I dreaded a reply. I was terrified lest it been so tenderly nurtured, found myself in the should announce my mother's death. Lord Islingcoffee-room of a common inn in London, drenched ford had directed that I should lose no time in vis