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brethren, but no earthly aid was able to save Helen was now alone in the world. The the young and noble form from sinking rap-death of her brother had taken away the idly into the grave. Without suffering very strongest motives to exertion, and she congreat pain, he gradually wasted away, while cluded, after consulting her friends, to disthe unearthly lustre of his eyes, and the bril-pose of her little property and obtain a situaliant flush on his cheeks, betrayed too truly tion as governess in some pleasant family. the insidious progress of his disease. He had Till this end was attained, Maria insisted requested to know precisely what was his sit-upon having her to stay with her, and Helen uation, and Helen nerved herself to tell him accordingly became an inmate of Mrs. Somthe fearful truth. Arthur bowed his face in erby's mansion. Days, weeks, and even his hands, and after a moment's silence, said, months passed away, and still they all found in a low voice," God's will be done. Leave pretence for keeping Helen. To every situame, my sister, a few moments." tion that offered, some positive objection was made, and with gentle violence they kept her a not unwilling prisoner. Time had softened her grief, and she was beginning to regain her natural cheerfulness of disposition. How happily were the days passed by all but Frank, who had been compelled to be absent at a distance from home, during all the latter part of the time which Helen had been a residentat his mother's. In "the month of roses," two events were to take place calculated to render all parties happy. Frank's return home and Maria's marriage.

Striving to repress her anguish, Helen left him, to pour out her soul in prayer to that Being who orders all things wisely and well. When she returned, Arthur looked up, on her entrance, and said, while a beautiful smile illumined his features,-"It is my Father, let him do what seemeth good unto Him."

Helen sat down by him, and taking his thin hand in her's, they held long and precious communion concerning righteousness and the life to come.

Many an hour did Frank and Maria pass Every thing was now bustle and preparain that chamber of sickness, and there learned tion for the joyous occasion, and Ned's happy lessons more precious than any earthly know- face grew still more sunny in the expression, ledge. Oh! it was indeed beautiful, to see while Maria's countenance sometimes asthe perfect and child like faith, the calm re-sumed a shade of thoughtfulness, as she consignation, and the joyful looking forward to templated the new sphere of duties opening the better land, of that young and noble heart, before her. and though many tears were shed round his couch, they could not be tears of bitterness.

*

It was the night previous to the bridal when Frank returned, and the warm reception he met with more than repaid him for his long absence. Helen's suppressed excla

upon the ear of one who loved the tones of her voice more than the sweetest music.

It was midnight, and the last hour of Ar-mation of involuntary delight was not lost thur's life drew nigh. His friends were all with him, and that dear sister, who had not left him for many days, with a countenance pale with watching and grief, was still sitting by him, his almost transparent hand clasped in her's. Deep stillness was around, unbroken but by the faint ticking of the Death-watch, or the surpressed sob of the grief-stricken group. Arthur had been lying for some time very quiet, and breathing gently as in sleep. Suddenly he sprang up, and exclaimed"Beautiful, beautiful!" while his kindling eyes seemed to be gazing on some object invisible to the rest, but to him of soul entranc ing beauty. "Hush! hush!" he continued, "that heavenly harmony! It fades-fades away!" and as he spoke he sank slowly back, || and the light of his brilliant eyes went out in the darkness of death. His sister felt his hand relax its grasp, and rising she bent over him, closed his eyes, kissed his pale forehead, and with the single exclamation-"It is finished!" the highly wrought energies of her spirit gave way, and a long death-like swoon called forth all the resources of her friends to restore her to life.

It was the bridal night. The splendid rooms were filled with the gay and fashionable friends of the beautiful bride, who was perfectly radient in loveliness. Every one seemed happy and many felt so. In the midst of the crowd, however, there was one whose thoughts were far away from the gay pageant before her. Helen was thinking of that dear brother, who, if he had been living, would that day have completed his fifteenth year. His birth day had been wont to be celebrated by a joyful festival, while his father lived, and thought was busy among the oldenmemories. Her emotion became too much for her, and quietly stepping out on the piazza, whose flower-wreathed pillars cast shadows in the brilliant moonlight, she descended the steps which led into the garden and passing down a secluded path, entered her favorite bower of roses, to give a few moments to the memory of her brother, undisturbed by the gaiety around her. But her retreat was no

ticed by Maria, and calling Frank, with a merry glance of her bright black eye, she bade him seek her and request her to return.

Frank's step was so light that it disturbed not the fair girl's reverie, and he paused a moment ere speaking to her.

"Arthur, dear Arthur!" she exclaimed unconscious that any ear heard her, “your place can never be supplied to me."

As Frank stepped into the arbor, Helen started up in surprise; but Frank begged her not to fly at his approach, saying, at the same time, his sister had sent him for her. "I was not aware," said Helen, blushing deeply, "that my absence was remarked; but it is dear Arthur's birth-day, and sad recollections came over me, compelling me to retire for a few moments to subdue them in solitude. Shall we return?"

"Pardon me if I detain you one moment," said Frank, gently taking her hand in his. "You spoke but now of that dear brother who is gone; may I not venture to hope that I may fill his place in your heart!"

Helen was silent a moment, from surprise and embarrassment, when Frank again earnestly entreated her, in tones of most eloquent persuasion, to be his, and as the sound of distant footsteps were heard approaching, he entreated her to give him "one word one sign."

Helen hastily snatched a half open rose bud of crimson hue, and placed it in his hand. The language of flowers they had studied together; he knew its meaning.

What more need I say, but that the best of sisters became the best of wives.

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Rich glories deck the sunset skies,
And earth seems bathed in golden light;
Yet all that lovely brightness flies

Before the gloomy shades of night.
But morning dawns,-the orb of day
Sheds round full many a brilliant ray;
The shadows vanish from his path,-

And then we know-all is not death!

All is not death! Then, oh, my heart,
In tearful sadness, why repine?
Though friends like faded flowers depart,

They blossom in a brighter clime.
In that sweet home of tearless bliss,
Thou shalt embrace the lov'd of this;
Then be not bowed with fear and grief,-
Though lone thy way-all is not death!
Utica, N. Y.

TAGLIONI, THE DANCER.

This woman, whose sole merit is that she dances well-of all merits the least meritorious-is actually feted throughout Europe; received at the table of emperors and empresses, hussaed by counts; presented with a purse of diamonds by one super-opulent fool, and with a chariot, with solid silver spokes to its wheels, by another; demanding for a few nights of pirouetting and bounding at the Italian Opera, a sum which would feed the peasantry of a province for a month; amassing money which might raise the drooping sculpture, painting, music and literature of an empire. What was the engagement which Taglioni had the modesty to demand at the theatre of Drury Lane? One hundred pounds a-night for herself three nights aweek, and six hundred pounds to be paid for the services of her father as ballet-master; nine hundred pounds to her brother and sister to dance with her; with two benefits to herself, guaranteed to her at six hundred pounds; one half a benefit to her brother, guaranteed at two hundred pounds-in all, six thousand pounds! All this is monstrous; it actually disgusts the mind to think of such sums lavished on a parcel of jumpers--even the effrontery of the demand is offensive. Here is a knot of the meanest of mankindthe very dross of Parisian life-actualy think their caperings worthy of being paid at a rate which the liberality of a nation has scarcely ever offered to her greatest benefactors. The noble poet, the most profound philosopher, the greatest mechanichal inventor, the most gallant soldier, all would be regarded as exorbitantly over-paid by half the sum which these vulgar contributors to the Italian Opera think themselves entitled to demand, and, by the prodigal folly of fashion, actually obtain.-Blackwood's Magazine.

Written for the Ladies' Garland.

THE TEST;

VOR, A CAUTION AGAINST TRUSTING TOO
MUCH TO OUTWARD APPEARANCES.

BY JOHN MOFFATT..

[Concluded.]

CHAPTER III.

Deacon Snodgrass, Hiram's uncle, was a wily bachelor, ranging somewhat between fifty-five and sixty years. His sister, the mother of the haberdasher, had once enjoyed a large share of his affection, but that had in a great measure been transferred to the aforesaid Hiram-a substantial proof of which had been made in the shape of a large addition to his stock in the haberdashery line. So far things looked well on Hiram's part in regard to the test; but in this ever-changing state, one's best purposes, and brightest hopes, are often discomfitted and obscured.

The deacon's housekeeper, Matty by name, was, as housekeepers generally are, considerably out of her teens; but she was, nevertheless, a sprightly, lively, active kind of body, fond of social chit-chat, and evinced a great talent for observation. This maiden had, from some motive-a good one, no doubt-taken a great delight in watching all Hiram's motions and movements,—a full and careful report of all of which she daily made to the deacon. The luminous speculations of the young gentleman lost nothing of their brilliancy, by having such an eloquent chronicler as Matty; but it must be confessed, that the ambitious schemes of Dame Fairfax, which were reported through the same channel, looked mighty foolish, when known to be hatched and brought forth by a woman who was a granny.

66

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The deacon was greatly amazed at what he heard, and, as was very natural, suspected Matty of saying things that were not strictly true about his favorite, for want of proper information from authentic sources. He, therefore, very wisely resolved to mix with society a little more than he had done of late, in order to sift the whole matter to the bottom.

thing like malicious intent against the "
"pet,"
for the purpose of promoting sinister views
of her own.

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"A fine affair, indeed," exclaimed the aroused deacon. "Who would have thought that a man of my years, experience, and sagacity, could come thus near being trapped by a youth in years, though not in iniquity and impiety;-my regard for the kirk' and its doctrines, will not admit of my hugging to my bosom a viper to the cause of religionone, especially, who would squander away the wealth I have gathered by unceasing toil, care, and industry, on tinselled gew-gaws, painted toys, sensual pleasures, and riotous living; and thus make my name a laughing stock for the rising generation, when my bones are mouldering away in the silent tomb. Oh no!-It must not-it shall not be so! Matty, harkee! Matty, sit down here by my chair. Aye, that will do. Now look me straight in the face, Matty, for I have something important to say. Hem-hem!—Well, Matty, I was going to say that late circumstances have combined to produce a great alteration in my mind, so much so, indeed, as to induce me seriously to think on altering my situation, from a single to a double state. Now, Matty, in your capacity of housekeeper to me, you have given me a satisfactory sample of your abilities to discharge the duties of a wife well and truly. Now, the gist of the whole matter is, that I mean to give you a chance of practising as such -as a wife, I mean-if you are so minded. I am, however, too old to go through the tedious formality of a courtship in the manner of young "milksops," nor is it at all neces sary, Matty; we know each other well, and the query I am about to propound to you will supersede the necessity of further palaver on this important matter. Will you, therefore,-(Now mind, I ask you on your faith as a christian woman!)-Will you, to the best of your ability, discharge the duties, and maintain the character of a good wife toward me, till death dissolve the contract?"

Matty, without blushing, or affecting either surprise or trepidation, answered, in a calm collected manner,-"I will to the very best of my ability."

A few visits to the neighborhood of the Robin Hood Hotel, initiated the deacon into the mysteries of the "Philosophic Club," and in a particular manner let the old man into the knowledge of the part Hiram had played, in disseminating and advocating the obnox-knot that makes us one." ious sentiments and principles of the dissolute libertines who weekly met there. The other matters charged to Hiram's account, were also ascertained to be in keeping with truth;| so that Matty was honorably acquitted of any NO. 9.-VOL. vi.

66 Well," said the deacon, "to-morrow our names goes to the clerk of the parish, to be proclaimed three times next Sunday, and Doctor Primrose will on Monday tie the

At the time appointed the marriage took place, with a good deal more than customary hilarity.

Deep was the mortification of Hiram, when the above mentioned event took place, and

many were the taunts and jibes he had to endure, but none of these galled him so much as the cutting witticisms of the young gentlemen of the club, at the sign of Robin Hood. The buoyancy of his young spirit, however, soon triumphed over this misfortune, and he laughed with the loudest at the idea of the old fool's being caught in the meshes of matrimony by the intrigues of an "artful jade," for such was his version of the transaction.

He likewise consoled himself with the thought, that the old man's bounty in enlarging his stock, would enable him to go ahead with greater facility, while it would also procure for him the pleasures of life, and enable him to live in fashionable style, according to the bent and bias of his mind.

about to take place. The high-mettled horse which Hiram rode took fright at the report of the explosion, and reared and plunged desperately, throwing his rider at last with great violence among a heap of loose stones.

Some good people came to his aid, and promptly sent for a surgeon; but the scamp who had thus lured him on to imminent danger, made off as quick as his horse could carry him, after having ascertained that Hiram's vital spark was not extinguised.

The ruffian's motive for enticing the deluded man so suddenly from the gay city, is to this day unknown.

CHAPTER IV.

Duncan Fairfax was too good a man, and too much of a christian, to triumph over his crest-fallen spouse, as untoward events and unexpected contingencies, were destroying her fond hopes and hasty calculations of future eminence and grandeur. He, indeed, inwardly rejoiced that such was the case; but his was the calm, sublime pleasure, which results from well-founded hope, that a beloved one was about to turn from the pursuit of folly to the love and practice of virtue again.

A little skip here brings us to a fine affair which was to come off in the metropolis of Scotland, in honor of the arrival of a great personage, whom it does not concern us to name. Hiram and his quandam compeers of the club, were there; and the former "gentleman" was finely attired, and well mounted for the occasion. After the arrival of the party in Edinburg, one of the number told Hiram, in a quiet, confidential manner, that he had been dining with a dear friend of his, who held a high situation in the customhouse, that said friend had dropped certain words in conversation, which led him to think With a view to promote this laudable obthat a heavy additional duty would shortly ject, Duncan frequently adverted to the debe imposed on several things, which he the light which the pure in heart enjoyed in young gentleman aforesaid would particu- this state of trouble, trial, and imperfection, larize to Hiram, in time and place conve- by communing with the Father of the Universe, in praise, prayer, and meditation,— preparatory to their introduction to the society of the redeemed in heaven.

nient.

"Now, my dear Hiram," continued he, "as I am not capable of improving this glorious chance of making a fortune at present, on account of not having the "dust" by me, friendship suggested the propriety of my imparting the intelligence to you, forthwith. Away-away-then, let you and I speed quick as our good steeds can carry us, to the famous old city again. The plan of action we will speedily arrange, and promptitude and decision will soon secure to you a fortune, which will enable you to crack your finger and thumb in the old turk's face, (his uncle, I presume,) and likewise secure the favor of your lady love, in spite of the smooth speeches of the godly saddler."

This foolish harangue, aided, no doubt, by a deep draught of something more potent, at the bar of the host, had the desired effect, for the pair soon after mounted, and rattled off at a round rate, full of dreamy notions about the splendid issue of the wild speculation. On-on they rode, as though the future welfare of mankind depended on their progress, till they neared a quarry, and that too at the very time when a blast was

The good man's benevolent aims were subserved by another unlooked for event,-the sudden illness and death of Mrs. Knox, the bosom-friend of Mary, and wife of the Bailie. The news of this event, so sensibly affected Mary, that she sought the solitude of her chamber, to vent her sorrow and commune with her own heart. "Duncan is right," she faintly articulated, "for appearances are indeed deceitful things. Who could have persuaded me a short time ago, that the deacon at his time of life would have married? and I cannot conceal from myself the knowledge that my folly has contributed to that step,-which forever precludes the possibility of Hiram being his heir. His heir, did I say? What infatuation !-the youth is now, by his own imprudence and indiscretion, laid on a sick bed, from which the Almighty only knows if ever he will rise again. Poor, bruised, and maimed creature!—I feel sad and sorrowful over his misfortune! The Bailie's wife-O my poor bleeding heart! She-even she who was lately so gay-so

full of life and fond anticipations of future bright and joyous scenes through coming years-is at this moment a pale, unsightly, senseless, inanimate lump of clay. Gonegone from the land of the living, never to wake again till the thunder of the archangel's trump peals through the silent mansions of the dead!

“Solemn―awful thought! I thank Thee, bountiful Father, that I am yet on thy footstool-a subject of hope. Yet, alas! how much substantial joy have I turned from to chase after vain, empty, delusive shadows! How much solid pleasure have I left untasted, from gazing superficially through a distorted medium on the glitter of the casket, while the invaluable treasure within either eluded my notice or was lightly esteemed! Forgive my wanderings ;-restore me to thy favor, by purifying me through the blood of

the eternal covenant!"

Mary arose, comforted, refreshed and strengthened, and joined the family circle with a firm resolve to resume the quiet domestic duties at once, as there was a strong probability that she would soon he deprived of the aid of her neat, trim, clever-handed daughter.

Duncan saw with delight the change for the better in his beloved wife; and his soul expanded with gratitude and love to the Divine Being. Eliza gazed with rapture on her dear mother; and the aspirations of her pure young heart rose up with acceptance to the throne of the Eternal. So there was joy in heaven, and joy on earth, over the contrite one's return from the broad and beaten path of folly, to the enjoyment of domestic happiness.

"And having food and raiment let us be therewith content.

"But they that will be rich, fall into temptation, and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and perdition."

"How truly is this exemplified in the case of Hiram Trimtop!" she was going on to observe, when a gentle rap at the door announced a visitor; the door was opened, and George Freeman, as modest and unassuming as ever, confronted the old lady.

Gentle reader, this was in reality the very night on which THE TEST expired; and the dignity of conscious integrity, to claim George, like an honest man, stood erect in the hand of the fair young girl, whose best esteem, be it known unto all, he had long enjoyed. By following his calling in the manner formerly spoken of, he had extended his business, fully established an unblemished character, owed no man a farthing, and had, Bank, to stand against "a rainy day,” as the moreover, a snug deposit in the Commercial old saw goes.

Hiram had pretty well recovered from the effects of the accident at the quarry, but the most sanguine had little hope of his being a useful member of society, for he tenaciously adhered to the obnoxious and blasphemous principles which he had imbibed, by associating with profane libertines. In fine, he was fast sinking below the level of common humanity; for along with other vices, he had taken to the habit of drinking strong liquor, which leads man down, down to irretrievable destruction.

He came not on that memorable evening When restored to her former peace and to the house of Duncan Fairfax, and it was content, it was often a matter of wonder to well that he did not, for Dame Fairfax, with Mary, how she could be so unreasonable as tears of joy, joined the hands of the young to find fault with every thing in and about pair together, and devoutly implored that the house. "True," she would say, "noth- the best blessings of heaven might rest upon ing around me is splendid or showy, but them through all their pilgrimage below, and every thing is substantial, neat, and useful, at last conduct them to everlasting felicity and therefore well calculated to promote content and comfort. Thousands who, at least equally as well as I, deserve the bounties of Providence, are at this hour hungry, naked, forlorn, and pinched by the keen cutting wind of winter. I have been bewitched! O what abundant cause have I to be humble and thankful!" Then she would take up the family Bible, to glean from its pages instruction, comfort, guidance and wisdom.

Thus, one evening, she was musing over the passage in Paul's Epistle to Timothy, which reads thus:

"Godliness with contentment is great gain. "For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out.

above. Shortly after this scene took place the young couple were united in the holy bonds of matrimony, and live together in a virtuous and exemplary manner. Eliza's mother as in duty bound often visits the worthy couple, and seems to derive peculiar pleasure, in adverting frequently to THE TEST, proposed by her pious and ingenius daughter, with a view to emancipate her, (the mother,) from the gall of bitterness and bonds of iniquity.

So far ought man to make use of suspicions as to provide, that if what he suspects, should be true, it may do him no hurt.

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