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THE LADIES' GARLAND.

FROM THE CONFESSIONS OF AN ELDERLY GENTLEMAN, BY THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON.

LOUISA ;-OR, MY FIRST LOVE.

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OUR hero first apologizes for intruding his||cate hand-writing, tied up with ribands of autobiography upon the public, from the fact as delicate dye, met my pensive gaze! What that this is an autobiographical-loving age: miniatures of languishing blue-eyed blondes, why, then, says he, should I not amuse myself, and sparkling piquante brunettes! What if not my readers, by revealing the experience|| long ringlets of hair of every color, from the I have acquired, if it were only for the purpose lightest shade of auburn, (maliciously called of establishing two facts, which many young red,) to the darkest hue of the raven's wing! men seem to doubt; namely, that vanity is What rings, pins, and lockets, were scattered not solely confined to women; and that all old around, with mottos of eternal love and gentlemen, however improbable it may ap- everlasting fidelity! which eternal love and pear, were once young. * everlasting fidelity had rarely withstood the I have been many years absent from my ordeal of six months' intimacy. What counthome, wandering in search of that yet undis-less pairs of small white gloves! What covered good, 'a fine climate; which, like heaps of purses, the works of delicate fingers! happiness, forever eludes the pursuer, though What piles of fans; knots of riband; with constantly holding out delusive prospects of boquets of faded flowers, and a profusion of its attainment. The searchers of one, like seals, with devices each more tender than the those of the other, are, in general, confined other! to the class, who, possessed of more wealth The past, with all its long forgotten pleathan wisdom, make unto themselves an im-sures and pains, rose up to my imagination. aginary good; and then set out in a weary The loved-the changed-the dead-stood chase of it. before me, in their pristine charms; and I On my return, after many long and weary felt towards each, and all, some portion of years of absence, I was rather worse in health || long vanished tenderness revive in my breast. than when I left; as the incursions made on my already debilitated constitution, by undue heat, unlooked for winds, and unwholesome diet, instead of retarding, tended to advance, the effects of that cruel enemy, Time.

Beautiful sex! soothers in our affliction, and best enliveners in our hours of happiness, all that I have known of joy on earth, I owe to your smiles-to your partiality!

This miniature represents my first love, Change of air having been prescribed for not the object of my crude, puerile fancy; me, I lately proceeded to this country seat of for what stripling has ever passed from fifmine, which I have not visited for twenty-teen to twenty, without having fancied himfive years; and I have had the drawers of self, at least half a dozen times, smitten with my old escritoire brought to my easy chair, the tender passion? No-this picture has and have sought amusement in examining nothing to do with such minor phantasies. their contents. What piles of letters, in deli-It represents her who caused me to feel the VOL. VI.-No. 4.-Oct. 1842. 105

in obeying their desires, than in gratifying her own.

first rational sentiment of attachment I ever experienced, the first woman that led me to anticipate with pleasurable feelings the holy There was a sweet pensiveness in her nastate of wedlock, as a near, and not as a per- ture, that harmonized perfectly with the pespective good; as a happiness to be attained culiar character of her beauty. Her's was as speedily as possible, and not as a change not a mind prone to gloom, but of that subof life to be endured, as best it might be, at dued and tender order, which, like a summer some remote period. How vast is the differ- twilight, in itself beautiful, disposes all to ence, by the way, between a passion and a feel its mild and soothing influence. One sentiment! The first may be excited for an could not have told her, with the slightest unworthy object, and in an unworthy mind; prospect of success, a ludicrous story, a whimby a silly girl for a sillier boy; but the sec-sical quibble, or any one of the various bad ond can only be inspired by a pure woman, jokes with which the conversation of the and entertained by an honorable man. One generality of persons is assisted in society. of the many distinctions between the two sexes, is, that women feel love as a sentiment; while with men, it is a passion: hence, it takes deeper root, and is of longer duration, with them, than with us. But, in proportion to our intellectual cultivation, this peculiarity becomes less frequent; for imagination and refinement once enlisted beneath the banners of love, that becomes sentiment which otherwise would have been solely passion.

But to return from this digression, I now begin the narrative of my first love.

rose.

But she was one to whom the fairest flowers, the most imaginative poem, or the most elevated work on practical holiness, would be felt to be an appropriate offering. Strongly tinctured with romance, the romance of youthful refinement, which is a natural attribute of the best and purest of her sex, ere experience has driven the illusions of early youth away, Louisa shrank from the busy world, affrighted and stunned with its turmoil; and opened her innocent heart to the contemplation of the charms of nature, and the adoration of the God who created them.

love, not in a cottage, because she knew my What pictures we drew of the future!— lot had rendered my home a stately one, but she would have preferred a more humble abode.

"A cottage," has she often said, "oversheltered by a wood, with a clear stream grown with woodbine, jessamine, and roses; flowers; this, dearest Harry, would be my gliding in front of a garden, redolent with choice."

in bantering mood, "should be milk, honey, "And our food, dearest," would I reply, and curds, with new-laid eggs and simple fruits."

Louisa Sydney, the original of the miniature now before me, was one of the fairest specimens of her sex that nature ever formed. There are the eyes, blue as heaven's own cerulean hue, and the cheek with its delicate tint, resembling the leaf of a newly blown There are the long and silken tresses of lightest brown, that wantoned over her finely rounded shoulders, descending to a waist, whose exquisite symmetry was unequalled. Well do I remember, when one of those silken glossy ringlets was severed from her beautiful head, to fill the locket now before me! Poor, dear Louisa! how she loved me! There is something soothing and delightful in the recollection of a pure-mind"Well, such food would amply content ed woman's affection; it is the oasis in the me," would Louisa say, "but your sex are aldesert of a worldly man's life, to which his feelings turn for refreshment, when wearied ways thinking of a good dinner. Yet, would with the unhallowed passions of this work- you all be better and happier, because more o'day world. I would not voluntarily relin-healthy, if your diet was more simple; but quish the memory of Louisa's love for all of turtle, or the white muscle of venison, the you yearn for the flesh pots,' the green fat all-what shall I say!-Alas! my all of enjoyment is now so limited, that I have little racy juice of Spain's vines, and the iced vintage of France. Ah, Harry, Harryto resign; but that, and much, much more, would I surrender, sooner than part from the conviction that she loved me.

Louisa Sydney was not only beautiful, but she was mild and gentle, beyond description; yet her gentleness and amazing docility, had nothing of insipidity in them, for they originated in a perfect freedom from selfishness, that led her to yield her own wishes to those of the person she loved, a concession not of reason but of volition. She absolutely lived for those dear to her; and had more pleasure

These little things, disguise it how you can, These little things are dear to little man!' Bless me, what a twinge that was! it seemed as if a red-hot knitting-needle was shot through my foot; and the exclamation it occasioned brought my blockhead of a servant in, with "If you please, sir, did you call?"-Did I call? if I had, he would not have been so prompt in his attendance. Oh! this plaguy gout! how dependent it makes a man feel! for not only does it "fill all his

bones with aches-make him roar," but it trees, flowers, and birds, almost as much as I impresses him with the agreeable conviction, do." (Poor dear soul! I had persuaded her, that if a spark from the fire should by chance and myself too, that I was a perfect Corybe attracted towards his garments, he might don.) "From my infancy I had felt delight be consumed at leisure, unless some ervant in them, and this sympathy in our tastes is a should arrive to his rescue. Ah! why did I new link in the chain of affection that binds not marry? why not have secured to myself us. I thought, but perhaps it was only fana legitimate-a licensed nurse, whose duty, cy, that you looked pale last night, and this if not pleasure, it would have been, to have thought haunted my pillow." (Poor Louisa! watched the paroxysms of this fearful mala- if she saw me now, with this rubicund face!) dy, and to have noted the want of philosophy "I hope you are not ill, dear Henry; or if with which they were endured? People are ill, that you will not make light of your inalways so philosophically stoical to the suffer disposition. Now, that you know the happiings of their near and dear relatives, and so ness of another depends on you, you must be ready to accuse them of not bearing the ills careful of your health. It is by suggesting to which flesh is heir, with becoming equa- to me a similar reflection, that dear good nimity. Another twinge !-Oh! what mar- mamma makes me submit to a thousand distyrdom! agreeable remedies, for colds caught, and antidotes against catching them.

Pshaw, pshaw, at this rate my confession will never be made. Let me see, where was I? Poor, dear Louisa! we thought not of gout in her day; no, no, nor of the necessity of easy chairs, in which persons are most uneasily placed; nor of sofas, reclining on which, a wretch suffers more than on the bed of Procrustes. In her day, I only remembered that I had feet for dancing.

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"Is it not even more culpable of me to write to you clandestinely, than to receive your letters?" (I had postponed declaring in form to her mother, purposely, that I might enjoy the selfish gratification of triumphing over Louisa's repugnance to the maintenance of our secret correspondence.) Indeed, Harry, I must write to you no more, until mamma knows all; for she is too confiding and indulgent to be deceived by her child, on whom she has lavished such unremitting care and affection. I know not how I shall acquire courage to place this note in your hand; there is something so unfeminine-so indelicate, in acting thus, and in the presence, too, of the dear parent I am deceiving, that I blush for myself. Do not, dearest Harry, think ill of me, that my attachment to you has conquered the maidenly reserve of your 'LOUISA.'"

with that deep, earnest look of tenderness, Dear, gentle soul! I think I see her now, with which I so often caught her beautiful

eyes

if I am not playing the woman, and weeping fixed on my face!- -Why, bless me, for a poor, dear girl, that has been in her think I had so much softness left in my ruggrave these forty years! Well, I did not

"I fear you will think me too lightly won, and blame my imprudence in answering the note you placed in my hand on leaving the ball. That note has told me all that I longed to know, which I hoped, yet doubted. And yet a feeling of remorse poisoned my enjoyment while reading it; for, conscience whispered that I ought not to have received it and that in perusing it, I violated the duty I owe dear mamma. Every word of kindness from her (and never does she speak to me save in kindness,) seems to reproach me forged nature; but, if ever a girl merited to be loved and lamented, it was Louisa Sydney. mother of our attachment a week sooner than I complied with her desire, and told her I had intended. The good lady seemed nearly as much hurt as surprised, that her daughter should have avowed a preference for any man, without having first consulted her; but, a tear and a kiss from Louisa, and a few civil speeches from me, made our peace, and all was soon couleur de rose again.

this duplicity. Do let me tell her; or, better still, confess to her yourself, that you love me; for there is something that looks like guilt in mystery, which renders it abhorrent. to me."

Poor, dear Louisa!
Here is No. 2.

"What a delightful picture you have drawn of our future lives! But can you, dearest Harry, give up the gay and brilliant "Mr. Lyster," said Lady Sydney, "in conworld, which you have enjoyed with such a fiding my child to you, I give you that which zest, to retire to some sequestered home with is dearer to me than life itself. Louisa's me? I rejoice that you like green fields, || feelings are as delicate as is, alas! her frame;

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