No. 2. of her sable dress. Blanche D'Albi.—The Proposal. 21 Sometimes, also, a pair of Misses would || which stated that, "The Regiment de Meusaunter towards her during the intervals ron being under orders for Europe, had been of the dance, and drawl out a few words of safely embarked on board the transports inquiry about some fashionable air, while provided for its reception, all but the last their eyes were busily engaged in taking boat, consisting of the Lieut. Colonel, his notes of the becoming manner in which her lady, and their family, and two young officers hair was arranged, and of the foreign tournure of the regiment, when by some mismanagement the boat was suddenly upset in that tremendous surf, and nothwithstanding the exertions of the natives or their attending catamarans, every soul perished, except the wife and youngest daughter of the colonel, and one of the young officers, Lieut. D'Albi." Then followed the names of those who had found a watery grave, and the gentleman ran them quickly over, till just as he had pronounced that of Horace Vaudreuil' a sudden crash of the piano keys caused a general start, and all eyes turning simultaneously towards the young musician, who had been awaiting the pleasure of the dancers in silence, patient and unnoticed, it was perceived that she had fallen forward on the instrument, her face and arms resting on the keys, and almost hidden by the redundance of fair soft ringlets, which had burst in rich disorder from the confining braid. It so happened, that on the very evening when the heart of Blanche was overflowing with its secret hoard of gladness,-Oh! how long had that poor heart been a stranger to such blissful feelings !-Mrs. L- -'s circle was a large and gay one, and a proposal to form quadrilles being suddenly made, and as promptly acceded to, Mademoiselle was detained to take her patient sitting at the piano-forte. She had always acceded with willing sweetness to similar requisitions, but this evening she sat down to the instrument with even joyous readiness, and the exuberance of her happiness found expression in such sprightly measures, that her flying fingers soon outstript the common time of the dancers, and many breathless calls for moderation were sent towards her from the scampering and despairing performers. Then would she laugh and blush, and shake her She was raised up, and conveyed to a sofa head in playful self-reproach at her own in a state of death-like insensibility, from lawless performance, and for a while-a very which, after long application of various little while the restless fingers were re-stimulants, she revived only to relapse into strained to slower movements once or twice she looked towards the dancers, as if with a vehement longing to spring up and mingle in their gay evolutions; but those glances were momentary, and her eyes dropt again upon the ivory keys; but such a smiling and half-exulting playfulness lurked about her mouth, as if she were anticipating some hour of future gladness, when she should join hands once more in the merry dance with the companions of her youth, on the earth-the lovely greensward, of her own dear country. Whatever were the fond reveries of poor Blanche, it is certain that her musical task was so unequally performed that evening, as to cause much discomfiture among the dancers, at length despairingly manifested in their relaxing exertions, and in the tedious, lounging pauses between the sets. successive faintings. The family apothecary being summoned, by his direction she was conveyed to her chamber and to her bed, and his prognostics were unhappily verified towards morning, when she awoke from a sort of trance in which she had lain some hours, in a high paroxysm of delirious fever. To be concluded. THE PROPOSAL. Miss M., a young heiress of considerable personal attractions, chanced to be seated, at a dinner party, next to a gentleman remarkable in the fashionable circles for the brilliancy of his wit, and who had long made one in the train of her admirers. The conversation turning on the uncertainty of life, "I mean to insure mine," said the young lady, archly, "in the Hope." "In the hope of what ?" said her admirer. "A single During one of these, a small knot of gen-life is hardly worth insuring. I propose that tlemen stood conversing with Mrs. Lwe should insure our lives together, and if you close to the piano-forte, on which, mingled have no objection, I should prefer the Alwith music books and manuscripts, lay liance." several pamphlets and newspapers. One of the gentlemen, carelessly glancing his eye over the miscellaneous heap, caught up a paper with suddenly excited interest, exclaiming, "Ah! here is already a public account of the melancholy occurrence, of which my letters from Madras make mention. Then rapidly he read aloud the paragraph PLEASURE. Pleasure is a rose near which there ever grows the thorn of evil. It is wisdom's work so carefully to cull the rose as to avoid the thorn, and let its rich perfume exhale to. heaven in grateful adoration of Him who gave the rose to blow. THE DREAM OF LOVE. VOL. I. on the sweetness of his own sorrow His mind became almost a world of itself, and thousands of visions rose obedient, at the call of creative thought-his soul lifted high on fancy's wing, would explore in its wild and beautiful career the fathomless regions of imagination, through all the variety of its magnificent domain. He loved deeply, devotedly. It was more than love; it was adoration.. The object of his passion was all that woman could be. There is no object, in all creation, half so splendid as such a being the charms that are diffused through the whole universe seem gathered together in her. thrilling tones of her voice. Her motion was more graceful than the heave of the sea or the change of the cloud, and the magic of mind, gleaming through all her words, and looks, and actions, shed around her a charm more grateful than Arabian incense. BY CHARLES LUDLOW, ESQ., OF RICHMOND, VA. I have seen a bubble blown into its circular and indescribable beauty; on its brilliant surface were painted the most inimitable pictures of light and life; graceful clouds floated in the bosom of the mimic sky; a tiny sun irradiated the little world, and cast all the magic of light and shade over a landscape of most bewitching splendor. A creation, bright as a poet could imagine, glowed before me; but a wave of the air broke the spell of its transitory, but_beautiful existence, and it was gone. It was like a dream of love. If there is one happy When the sun is going down in the west, being in creation, it is the lover in the luxury he leaves behind him a track of bright light, of his visionary aspirations-if there is a but it is insipid when compared to the light single blissful moment, like a star sparkling of her eye. The fragrance of the rose was in the shadowy firmament of life, it is that not so delicious as the warmth of her breath which discovers a long nourished affection-music could wake no melody like the to be mutual. The moon, as she rides on through her infinity of space has not a greater effect upon the ocean tide, than has the passion of love upon the tide of human thought -now permitting it to settle down into a state of temporary tranquility-again bidding it heave and swell, by the magic of its viewless power. Without it what would be the world? As a creation without light; yet possessing it, as we do, how does it discompose the sober plans of reason? How do the loftiest bulwarks of stern philosophy bow down and disappear before the fragrance of its breath? It is the poetry of thought, when reason slumbers on her stately throne, or wanders away in happy dreams. It is scarcely to be defined, for it seems in a perpetual halo of soft light, which dazzles while it fascinates the mind's eye. It is to the spirit what sunshine is to the flowerluring the fragrance from its bosom, and bringing out all the energies of its young nature, or as the hand of beauty to the slumbering lute passing over the silent chords, til "it doth discourse most eloquent music." I had a young friend, just rising into manhood-fiery and unsettled as the warrior steed in battle, his career was unguided by prudence or thought. A never failing flow of spirits made him always agreeable-heparing to pay her the first visit, and dwelling was full of sense and frolic. He could in his mind on her pleasing welcome, when bring a tear into your eye, before the smile her brother came to see him-he did not obhad left your lip he was all hope and hap-serve any thing peculiar about him at first, and piness. Suddenly he stood before me an altered being his eye had grown melancholy and full of meditation. Its moisture was often succeeded by a flash; and its fire again extinguished in the trembling tear. He shunned the rude clamor of the bustling world, and would steal away into some solitary recess, and in the still shade of the forest ponder No wonder my hero bowed down before her; no wonder that the sound of her voice was always in his ear, that her image was before him in his daily occupations, and bore a part in the mysterious changes of his dream. There was no affectation in her nature, and she confessed she loved him— they seemed treated for each other-and who would have believed that fate-but I am digressing. There is something very melancholy in the reflection that any woman can die; but to him that she should perish, was the very agony of despair. He had left her for a few days, intending when he returned to have asked her hand. On the morning of his return, he sprang into the stage-coach in a most delicious reverie. He held no discourse with his fellow passengers, but wrapped himself up in a rich dream of anticipation. His heart was full of happiness. He thought himself, as he entered his house, too happy for a mortal man. He was pre not till the warm and affectionate shake of the hand was over, did he notice that his eyes were filled with tears and a dismal, gloomy, black crape hung from his hat. He started, and in a hollow voice that had a desolate dreariness in every tone he said— "Elizabeth is dead!" At first he was not comprehended. A vacant, horrid laugh, that echoed strangely No. 2. The Dream of Love. 23 through the still room, was his only answer|| He walked up to the table, and stood as —then he repeated the words, and the fea- still and pale, and motionless, as the form tures of my friend became pale and motionless as marble-then he sat down in a chair, and covered his face with his hands, but not a word-a breath broke the silence. There was something alarming in his calmness; it seemed like the silence of the heavy, black cloud just before it launches its destructive lightning from its bosom. He beckoned, and wished to be alone. He was left in solitude. I would not profane the subject by any attempt at describing his feelings. There was a dark, horrible confusion in his-he gazed at her corpse with intensity of mind, like some accursed dream glaring around him, and the night rolled away its long hours of sleepless agony. 66 that lay stretched before him. He would have torn away the veil that covered that face, but he could not-he felt that he might as well have attempted to heave a mountain from its rocky base. The mother saw-she felt-a mother can feel-and she silently uncovered that beautiful countenance. It broke upon him in all its loveliness. There was the same white forehead-the sleeping eye-the cheek that he had kissed so fondly -the lips that had spoken such sweet sounds thought. Her living image was before himhe saw her smiling-he beheld her in the graceful motion-now her figure passed before him, beautiful in the mazy dance-and now he gazed into her full black eyes, and read unutterable things. He had a ring on his finger, a present from her he tried to speak-he looked at the ring, then at heragony swelled his heart; he gave one long gaze—and looked no more. * * * * The next day was the funeral; and when the sun rose in his same glory, and all the|| pomp and circumstance" of day began to beam upon the face of nature, and the merry voice of men sometimes came upon the breeze, and the carts rattled rudely along, and all around was business, and adventure, unaffected by the great event that had come He knew not how, but he stood by her like an ocean of scorching fire upon the grave; and they were bearing the coffin paradise of his heart-he recollected, and towards the dark narrow pit-a heap of he said, "to-day is her funeral-her funeral!" fresh earth was piled at its side. Some one His benumbed mind dwelt upon the words, said, "Where are the cords?" He heard but there was something undefined, and the answer "here they are ;" and then the almost incomprehensible in them. She was coffin was gradually let down into the grave to be buried at five in the afternoon. The -it sat firmly on the ground, and he heard clock struck four-he put on his hat, and a voice say, "there, that is right-draw up went steadily to her house. He thought the rope." Then there was the sound, as twenty times he heard her sweetly toned if the orders were obeyed-in the act of doing laughing voice, as he passed along. He it, a few grains of sand and pebble dropped turned his head once or twice to see if she upon the coffin-then all was still then a was not at his shoulder, but there was handful of soft, damp, heavy clay, was nothing and he walked on. He saw the shovelled down. Oh, that sound! that house, and his eye sought every window- solemn dreary sound of utter desolation! It but Elizabeth was not there. He rang the broke the horrid spell that kept his voice bell-the servant came, weeping-he looked silent and his eye dry-his lip began to at him, and walked on-he passed into the quiver-a sob heaved his aching breastparlor the chair which she had occupied, large tears gushed from his eyes--he when he was there before, was standing in stretched out his hands in an agony of weepthe very same place and there was her ing-and grasped an old gentleman's nose piano-he almost thought he heard music-in the stage-coach, where he was sleeping, he listened; a sob from the next room came and gave occasion for Obadiah to observelike ice upon his heart; and he sat down. Verily, friend, when thou hast suffiHer mother came into the room-her face ciently amused thyself with my nose, perwas serene in grief, but the first burst was haps thou wilt return it to its rightful over, and she was comparatively calm. She owner." asked him if he would look at the corpse. He knew she was dead, but the blunt question shook every nerve in his frame, and seemed to breathe death upon his soul. He arose and followed the bereaved mother. There was an air of death in the apartment; and a varnished coffin was on the table, a white cloth flung carefully at the head; a few friends sat and wept in silence, musing AFFECTION. The tie that binds the happy on the beauties and virtues of the being may be dear; but that which links the unthey were about to consign to the cold earth.fortunate is tenderness unutterable. 66 The whole horrible creation of his fancy passed away like a mist; his heart bounded within him, and he soon took sweet revenge upon those wicked lips that had been so cold and still, yet so beautiful, in the dark ness of his dream. No. 2. New-Haven.-Return of Spring. NEW HAVEN. 25 The attached to the institution. This city is also [The Rev. Mr. Peters established a school soon after the settlement of the town of Saybrook, which, becoming popular, the savants of young Connecticut gave it the appellation of Schola Illustris. In the year 1700 or 1701, during the life-time of Peters's children, this school received incorporation under the name of Yale College; but although this plant of renown first rooted there, it was not destined to spread its broad shadow over the pilgrim soil of Saybrook-it was removed The city of New-Haven lies round the head of a bay that sets up about four miles north of Long Island Sound, and is situated on a large and beautiful plain, which is bordered on the north partly by eminences called East and West Rock, presenting bold and almost perpendicular columns of naked trap rock, from three hundred and fifty to three hundred and seventy feet high. Two small streams bound the city, one on the east and the other on the west. New-Haven was incorporated as a city in 1784-three miles long from east to west, and two miles wide. It is regularly laid out, and consists of two parts, old and new towns. The old town was laid out in a large square, and is divided into several smaller squares. The central square is intersected by a most beautiful street, overspread by elms. On this street are erected three handsome churches; and near the centre of the west section of this square, is the new state-house, erected, a few years since, after the model of the Parthenon. It has a commanding appearance-and its proportions, and the style of its workmanship, to New-Haven, as stated above, about the rank it with the best American buildings. year 1717. Yet the musing traveler cannot The cut on the opposite page is a view look-see, without emotions of melancholy, the spot ing south-west across this green, or square, towards Yale College. The city is well furnished with handsome and substantial churches, the pulpits of which are filled by gentlemen of unquestionable piety and acknowledged talents. There are many other public buildings. The public square and principal streets are finely ornamented with trees and a great part of the houses have gardens attached filled with fruit trees, which give to the city a rural and delightful appearance. The Indian name of New-Haven was Quinipiack. It was first settled by the English in 1637. It was the capital of the colony of New-Haven, which continued distinct from the colony of Connecticut till 1665. The legislature of the state meets alternately here and at Hartford. The city of New-Haven is one of the most pleasant in the United States. Yale College, one of the most distinguished literary institutions on the continent, is established here. It was incorporated in 1701, and removed from Saybrook to New-Haven in 1717. It comprises several buildings for students, a chapel, and buildings for the laboratory and mineralogical cabinet. The observatory is built upon the model of the Tower of the Winds at Athens. The libraries contain about 20,000 volumes, and the collection of minerals is unquestionably the finest in the United States. A medical institution is connected with the college, and a law school of high standing is nominally where Yale had its glorious beginning. A few scattering blocks of granite that once formed a part of the edifice, covered with the moss of a century, are strewn around, and an unhoused cellar yawns, where once in the sounding halls of learning, the academic tread was lofty and loud.] RETURN OF SPRING. BY G. V. H. FORBES. "Sweet is the breath of Spring, divinely sweet, With charm of earliest birds." This is the sweetest season of the whole year. There is a joyful elasticity about it which cheers and invigorates the mind. when it first makes its visit, if the body is too sensitive to its lively touches, and droops a moment under its influence, it is but to prepare itself to meet the glowing summer which treads upon its fairy footsteps. There are but few who do not feel, amidst all the luxurious tresses with which spring wreathes her bright fair brows, an unusual pressure, arising from the sudden unbracing of the constitution, which undergoes nearly as great a change as the vegetable kingdom itself. But the system soon regains its natural tone, and arises up out of the feebleness to drink in the nectar of the gentle zephyrs, loaded with ambrosial sweets. The return of Spring awakens universe, |