No. 16. Burning of the Richmond Theatre. In the days of the Boccacio, "Paris was a place to know the reasons of things, and the causes of the same, as became a gentleman." It still freshly bears this libel of wit and philosophy; and a Parisian finish attracts, even in our utilitarian age, the same respect which the fair story-tellers of the Decameron yielded to it. To its seductive vortex I rushed with the crowd of frivolity and fashion; yet I was a child exotic, drooping amid the hollow splendor which blazed around me. The glitter of thronged cities-the rich historic ruin -the speaking marble, and the thrilling canvass, soon glut the appetite of curiosity, and every object which is presented to us becomes darkened by our prejudices or discolored by the associations of our education. We travel to find something new. Alas! man is the same creature of tear moulded clay in every clime. And in the beautiful land of France I turned from the blood-stained trophies of kingly ambition to feel for the maimed soldier; and forgot the glory of the Corsican, in the gushing tear which stained the boyish cheek of the sacrificed conscript. I looked not on society as a mass-I thought of each unit of character which composed the gilded fabric, and my heart hourly brought before me, in busy comparison, the tranquil prosperity of my own forest-girt land. I reasoned as a republican; and therefore I took no rank among the leaders of fashion; and should have felt the traitor's blush, had I surrendered those national manners, which, springing from our free institutions, are alike the support and pride of our liberty. At Paris I found a letter from my uncle, requesting me to return home. I lost no time in obeying the welcome summons, and I was soon on the confines of France. A clerical error in my passport gave me some alarm, as I was informed that it would be rigidly examined at the last town through which I passed. On reaching it I was taken before a youthful officer for examination. My passport, folded like a lawyer's brief, lay in my hat, and when I took it up for the purpose of 66 299 submitting it to him, my name, with the addition of Virginia," was disclosed. "Pais du Washington!" he exclaimed-at the same moment motioning me to replace the passport, and courteously bowing to my departure. I was again in Virginia!-and as we ascended the wizard stream of the James River, the stillness of its sleeping banks excited the passion, without the repulsive feeling, of solitude. There it lay before us, an earth born giant! The midnight moon rode joyously through the sapphire sky. Her massy, cold and silvery light spread itself over the deepening chasms of the woods and her flickering beams danced among the shadowy vistas of the leafless forest. An eagle, perched on a towering oak, the diadem of the woods, mingled his wild scream with the freshening breeze, while ever and anon that solitary cry gently died away in the mazy shade of cloud and forest. A holy and subdued stillness brooded over the slumbering earth. In that solemn hour, I forgot for one moment_the treasured hate of my life, and the gushing sympathies of father-land hushed the fierce whisper of revenge. When I reached Richmond, I took lodgings at the old and venerable "Swan," under the hope of meeting my uncle at that place. He had not yet left home; for he still believed that I had not embarked at France. I lounged in the porch; and while in that situation, a play-bill, with the usual garniture of ink, attracted my listless eye. The theatre-a crowd-and Ellen Pilton rushed on my fancy, and the idle hope of meeting her there instantly occurred to me. My toilet was soon made, and I walked to the theatre; but I did not reach it until the play was nearly performed. The beauty, the intelligence, the chivalry of Virginia, were gathered in a dense mass on that fatal Thursday. Old age, smiling youth, and blooming infancy filled the tier of boxes and the rude benches of the pit; and as I gazed on that brilliant assembly of genius and of beauty, I forgot the glare of Parisian society, in the gems and flowers of my own_native land. With much difficulty I forced my way to the centre of the pit; and, turning around, I saw Ellen Pilton. Her face was pale, and sadness had set a funeral seal on that brow where genius was wont to hold its proudest festival of thought. Her wavy hair was bound loosely with a tress of its own, and a sickly flower languished amid her dishevelled locks. The box in which she sat was full of glee, spirit and joy. She alone was silent; and though her eye wandered, yet it failed to catch my ardent gaze. The curtain dropped, and the pantomime of the " Bleeding Nun" was announced as the concluding piece. Placing myself directly before her, the curtain had no sooner risen, than her large and lustre 300 Burning of the Richmond Theatre. less eyes fell on ine. A sudden flush athwart her cheek-a tremulous movement of her snowy hand-and the quivering of her coral lips, declared the stormy memory of her heart. She looked on me but for a moment; and in her averted glance, I read a sentence of contempt and abhorrence! The pantomime was now commenced; and in the first act, the cottage of the Baptist the robber was illuminated by a large chandelier, which oscilated fearfully over the stage. When the curtain fell, at the conclusion of the first act, this chandelier was lifted among the scenery which was suspended to the ceiling. The fatal lamp was not extinguished! and it was carelessly suffered to remain among the canvass paintings and paper scenery which were deposited in the roof of the house. At the opening of the second act, every impulse of soul and sense conspired to strew with flowers that path of pleasure which was fast leading to the grave! VOL. I. rending shriek burst from the devoted multitude. Women, frantic with terror, screaming for help, and tossing their arms and dishevelled hair amid the curling flame-fathers and mothers shrieking out for their children, brothers for their sisters, and husbands for their wives, while the plaintive scream of childhood rose like the knell of hope above that billowy volume of flame, whose approach was despair, and whose embrace was death. All who were in the boxes, and most of those in the pit, immediately rushed for the lobbies. Many escaped through the windows; but the greater portion had no other retreat than to descend the stairs. Here the pressure became closer and closer; each retarded the escape of the other, and every addition (for nearly all sought that mode of escape,) more and more swelled that crowd of devoted victims. The stairways were instantly blocked up, and the throng was so great that many were elevated several feet above the heads of The gloom-the sorrows-the despair-the the rest. Hundreds were trodden under foot; brooding passions of our nature, were hushed and over a prostrate multitude I vainly atin that swelling torrent of joyous mirth. The tempted to reach the box in which Ellen Pilbarque of life, its pennons gaily floating in ton sat. Twice was I thrown down on the the breeze, disported itself on the sun-lit floor of the pit, and the iron heel of a boot bosom of a summer's sea. Full of spirit, crushed my cheek into a stream of blood.— harmony and hope, it paused on the verge of Suddenly the throng above me swept itself the gaping sepulchre which awaited it-and away, and rising with a violent effort of in a moment, it was dashed headlong into an strength, 1 leaped into the box where I had abyss of irretrievable woe and wretchedness. seen Ellen Pilton. She was lying on the The second act had now commenced; and floor, her head supported by the seat from turning my eyes towards the stage, I observed which she had fallen. Her countenance beseveral sparks of fire fall on the floor, and trayed neither terror nor alarm, and woeach second they increased with frightful ve- man's fortitude seemed in that storm of locity. A broad, steady and unwavering flame death to have found its only refuge in her gleamed from the top of the stage, casting a placid brow. The conventional rules of etihuge column of muddy light on the horror-quette were laid aside in that hour of wretchstricken countenances of the multitude below. ||edness, and without speaking I grasped her Suddenly, a mass of fire about the size of a waist with my left arm. The warm blood man's hand, fell from the burning roof. It from my cheek fell on her face and hair, and caught for a moment, on a part of the disjoint-stained her palpitating bosom. "You are ed scenery, which quickly blazed up, and, hurt," she exclaimed; "save yourself!-go! with the rapidity of the serpent, the ball sped leave me !-dear Lionel, I forgive you!" its hissing course, until it descended on the I had no time to reply to the endearing stage, and burst into a thousand fragments of tenderness of her language, nor to wonder at fierce and uncontrollable fire. A player came those circumstances of horror which disclosed forward, earnestly gesticulating to the audi- the secret of her heart. She was woman! ence to leave the house. The flame increased and the early bud of affection, whose opening rapidly behind him; and in a voice whose pride represses, yet ever finds its season of electric tone penetrated the heart of every bloom in the winter of adversity, and burst into human being in that assembly, he exclaimed, fragrance only on the precipice of the grave. "the theatre is on fire!" In a moment the A current of flame now hissed over the box, whole roof was a sheet of living flame. It and redoubling my grasp I attempted to reach a burst with irresistible force through the win-window in the lobby of the lower boxes. I bore dows. Fed by the vast column of air in the my precious burden over the bodies and heads hollows and passages of the theatre-in- of a dense crowd between me and the wincreased by the inflammable pannels of the dow, and finally reached it, surrounded by the boxes, by the dome of the pit, and by the screams and unavailing cries of the multitude canvass ceiling of the lower seats-like a who were suffocating and dying around. I demon of wrath it converged its hundred arms stepped within the window, and with great to the centre of human life. A wild and heart-exertion raised its lower sash. My feet were No. 16. To my Daughter Ada-The Slovenly Wife. For the Ladies' Garland. 301 TO MY DAUGHTER ADA. BY REV. DR. FONERDEN. I have seen the blush of the early dawn, And chas'd from earth its repulsive gloom; And spread around them their rich perfume. thrust into the opening, and I was gradually escaping, when the sash fell, and my feet were pressed down. My grasp on Ellen was not relinquished, and I fell with her on the floor. A hot and scorching vapor swept over my face, and I felt its breath coursing through my hair; I rescued one foot from its fatal prison; the other remained fixed and immoveable while my body, partially suspended from the window, became bruised and trodden down by the rushing multitude. Ellen's head sank drooping and convulsed on my bosom, and a plaintive wail issued from her lips. Every limb was wrung with agony, and her labored respiration exhibited the struggle of relentless death. Moving my hand to elevate her head, it passed a rent in the wall, through which streamed a current of cold and untaint- I have seen the blaze of the noontide hour, ed air. With great labor I moved our posi- When the orb of day in his might and power, tion to this welcome fount of life, and a breeze, Athwart the heavens his glories threw; fresher than a gale of spring, slaked our bit- And beheld him ride in his golden car, ter thirst, and whispered hope. The crowd With his splendor hiding each twinkling star, above me had now greatly decreased-woundThat nightly spangles the vaulted blue. ed, bruised and suffocated, they had dropped But more pleasing far to my ravish'd sight away like forest leaves in autumn's frost-Than the fullest blaze of meridian light, and the window having been burst open, my foot fell from its fearful position. The grasp of a strong and powerful hand wound itself in my hair, and a voice whose animated tones brought back, even in that terrific hour, the fadeless memory of childhood, exclaimed,"You are safe, Mass Lionel!" My preserver leaped into the window, drawing me with him. Suspended to the outside of the house by one hand, resting on the casement of the window, with the other he received the lifeless form My Ada's eye of cerulean hue, I have seen the beams of the setting sun, And laid on evening's light cloud his head; THE SLOVENLY WIFE. of Ellen. I saw them reach the earth in safety; and ere I leaped beside them, I involuntarily looked behind. A few feet from the window the floor had fallen in. An ocean of flame swept its greedy waves as far as the eye could reach. Like a huge serpent, raging for food, the swelling volume of fire gathered its gigantic bulk and wreathed its spiral course in a thousand hideous and terrifice shapes.A low, deep and piercing moan of human suffering arose from the flames. On, on, rolled the fiery torrent, hissing and gasping||ter of a respectable mechanic. Her beauty in a cloud of sulphurous and scorching vapor. was proverbial; her natural abilities were Vain was the arm of valor-impotent the en- certainly above the common order, and ergy of courage-helpless the power of mind! though not favored with a liberal education, The suffocating groan, the faintly uttered her company was sought after as pleasing and prayer, and the shriek of horror mingled them-instructive, by her young acquaintances. Too selves in the sweeping surge of fire! Heaved ardent a love for showy dress, in preference from their flimsy foundations, the walls tot- to neatness, seemed her only fault. Her tered, staggered, and fell into an ocean of beauty and pleasing manners naturally gained molten flame! A crushing sound-a hideous her many admirers, but the accepted one was crash-a wild and agonizing cry—and all was a Mr. T ****, who had loved her from his boyhood. At the expiration of his apprenticeship he solicited and secured the consent of her friends to their union. They were mar over! Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, ried, and the following week the envied husthan a stalled ox and hatred therewith. band bore off his beauteous prize, joyful in the 302 The Slovenly Wife. VOL. I. anticipation of future happiness, to a distant have no occasion to trouble myself about dress town, more favorable for commencing his bu- and such things now, you know my fortune siness. He hoped to see his Hester relinquish is made." Mrs. H. replied with emotion, her extravagant fondness for dress, now that "Pardon me, my dear sister, if I doubt your she had become a wife, and was removed from assertion. Your lot is now a happy one, but her gay acquaintance. Before marriage he much depends on your own exertions to inhad only visited her at stated times, when sure its continuance. Your fortune is indeed she was always prepared to receive him, and made, so far as a comfortable home and a rich consequently, as he had never seen her in a supply of the comforts and necessaries of life dishabille, he was a stranger to her slovenly can make it, but can wealth secure to you propensities. But scarce were they settled that undivided, tender affection you now enin their new abode ere she gradually threw joy? No, believe me, a wife's assidious enoff the restraint she had imposed upon her- deavors to please her husband is the only way self, and betrayed a negligence that pained to secure an interest in his affections. What his mind severely. If she was going out or can yield such a rich reward for our labors as expected company, she dressed as gay as ever, a husband's approving smile? Only ask yourbut when at home and alone, her appearance self if you are not best satisfied when your was always slovenly. Why is it, (he men-mirror reflects your appearance as neat and tally exclaimed,) that she is only anxious for becoming? Your husband's attention to his the admiration of others? Is it possible that own person gives evidence that he is not inI have become indifferent to her? She is as different in this matter. How must your neat kind to me as ever; perhaps 'tis only thought- or slovenly appearance, then, please or dislessness. He loved her too well to wound gust him? Reflect, and look forward to the her feelings, and tried to overlook her faults, time of evils that may arise from what now but fearing that strangers would remark it, appears of so trifling an import. Don't be anhe sometimes ventured so far as to inquire, gry Hester, you are young, and see not the "Have you forgot, my dear, that you have not difficulties which await you. It is my desire changed your dress to-day?" or some such that you may profit by the experience of othmild expression which served well for the ers, rather than purchase your own too dear. present time, but was soon forgotten. He Trust not too much to beauty. Sickness or finally asked her in the kindest terms, "why accident may injure, if not destroy it. Begin, she was so inattentive to her appearance?" then, to insure that which will be invaluable She playfully answered, "I have not got my when beauty has faded. Let me beseech you fortune to make, but I will dress more, William, to throw off this indifference and negligence, if you wish it, perhaps you will think me ex- before you disgust aud trifle away the affectravagant." "A woman," he replied, "can be tions of one of the best of husbands, for neatly dressed, while employed in her domes- be assured, however slow its progress, it tic concerns, without extravagance. Only will inevitably end in misery. Ingratitude let your appearance be what your own good is sure to bring its own reward. sense dictates as proper, and you will never grieved to make my visit so unwelcome; I be so uncomfortably surprised as you have anticipated much pleasure, but that embarfrequently been, by the unexpected entrance rassment and disappointment so strongly deof strangers. Dress less abroad and more at picted on your husband's countenance, in place home, and your happiness and my own will of the smile he used to wear, has damped my remain undisturbed." This rebuke had a good expected pleasure." The young wife made effect, but only for a short time, for she again some inarticulate reply, and proceeded to prerelapsed into her habitual carelessness. About|pare for dinner, which she served up with unsix months after marriage, they were surprised by an unexpected visit from her elder sister, who was struck dumb with astonishment as she entered the room, at the embarrassment in the countenance of her brotherin-law, and the neglected appearance of his wife. She was dressed in her dirty, though fashionable frock, her hair partially papered, and her whole appearance gave evidence of extreme negligence. "Are you not well, Hester?" inquired her sister, as soon as her surprise allowed her utterance," or are you unhappy? Something certainly is wrong, else why this change?" "Oh no, sister," she replied, "I am neither unwell nor unhappy; but why so much surprise at my appearance? I I am usual taste. During the sister's stay every thing wore a brighter aspect, and the fond husband yet hoped to realize his joyful anticipations. But alas, transient were his hopes, for a few days after the sister's departure she sunk into her former habits, regarding her advice as only the effect of conceited notions. One evening while she was engaged reading a play, her husband unavoidably introduced two old acquaintances. She was, as usual, quite unprepared, and she had the mortification to hear from them some unpleasant remarks. Unfortunately these remarks were heard by her partner also, which induced him to invite his friends to accompany him to the opposite tavern. As this was his first tavern No. 16. ter. The Sea-Spring-Religion. SPRING. 303 visit, it added to her provocation, and she upbraided him on his return, for bringing such We would fain welcome the young woman company home, repeating what she had overheard. He coldly answered, "Hester, my -or nymph as she is politely called by those friends spoke the truth-the blame devolves who address her in verse, but "the compleon you. If you would but study to please ments of the season" pronounced in sunshine your husband, you would be always prepared may only reach her ears in the midst of a to receive his friends; but I promise not to trou- snow storm, and the April skies which laugh ble you again: I will neither expose you nor over us while we write, gloar with the frowns myself, nor can I any longer consider I have of winter before our paragraph sees the light: a home. Hope and happiness are fled. I have-but blow high or low-airs bluff or balmy strove to deserve better treatment, but I am -skies fair or frowning, here's to thee, fresh disappointed." A few angry words followed, child of the elements-queen of the garden and a sullen sleepless night brought a day-sultana of the wild wood-the loveliest of ever remembered by the now unhappy Hes- the season daughters! Not as Vertumnus, Her pride was wounded, and she sought the sturdy god of clod-heaving swains or a remedy, but in vain. While at the tavern, swink'd hedgers, do we welcome thee, but as Mr. T. was invited to attend a convivial the blithe and buoyant spirit of a less earth party to be given the next day. He was un- like Mythology-wayward and capricious like decided whether to accept the invitation or all thy sex, but charming even in thy changes, remain at home, when his wife walked hast- and winning like them, even when most the ily through the shop without either a look or child of whim. The ancients were certainly word for him. After watching her till out noodles in personifying Spring as a male of sight, when, overwhelmed by disappoint- divinity-a brawny, overgrown godling in ment and despair, he snatched his hat from the counter and joined the party at the tavern. From that day, his flourishing business and his handsome wife became more and more neglected. She now saw her error in disdaining her sister's timely advice, with the bitter reflection that she had fallen from the precipice she was warned of. She bore all in silent grief, suffering under the full weight of her sister's prediction, that her fortune was not then made. Creditors now visited in lieu of customers. The goods were sold, the shop was soon closed. The husband had become a drunkard, and the once beloved and yet beautiful wife, sinking under the combined effects of poverty, shame and remorse, found out too late, that she was the unhappy cause of their mutual wretchedness and ruin. Thus ends a true but humble tale told by Schenectada Reflector.] A WIFE. For the Ladies' Garland. THE SEA. I stood alone beside the mighty ocean, Washington, April 10, 1838. J. P. W. clouted shoon" and fustian jacket, with a horrid appetite for bacon and greens and hard cider. She's a woman-SPRING is-every inch of her; and that some of our aboriginal tribes knew full well when they represented her as "the spirit of blossoms" that travels over the earth nursing young buds to life-the foster mother of the flowers; a matron, not only blessing the bridal of the earth and sky, but nurturing their callow offspring with a mother's care. Yet strange is it that men who could conceive so beautiful a Mythological fiction, and even worship the idea as imbodied in one of the planets of heaven (the evening star) could as the Pawnees once did, offer human sacrifices to the divinity whenever the month of April brought round their season of planting. How much more beautifully is the image of Death associated with the season of reviving nature in that quaint verse of old George Herbert of Bemerton: "Sweet spring full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie, My music shows ye have your closes And all must die." [N. Y. Mirror. For the Ladies' Garland. Oh life, thou art a weary load, Could aught avail thy fleeting charms, |