then took of my pistol and of my enemy, I had dead aim in a certain line upon his bosom, I yet felt forgiveness, and ancient friendship come over me like a heavy and rebuking cloud, and I purposely varied the range of the weapon, and spared his life. His bullet went wide; and Rocket saw that I had thrown mine away. He was about to expostulate with me as he approached, but was interrupted in his remarks in a manner exceedingly distressing to him. Nature was not to be withstood nor mistaken. As if by a natural instinct, the moment after our shots had been exchanged, both Walton and myself threw down our weapons, and, without a word rushed into each other's arms.

Rocket was aghast! What a violation of decorum-of propriety of all rule and practice.'

Mr. Topic!' exclaimed the major.

'Mr. Walton!' exclaimed Thompson, who was also something of a martinet.

'What have you done, gentlemen?' was the cry from both. We justified, or sought to justify, ourselves.

But public opinion, gentlemen' said Thompson.

'D-n public opinion!' cried Walton.

'Really, Mr. Topic,' said Rocket, 'this is a melancholy departure from the laws of honor. It will awaken the indignation of all honorable men from Maine to Mexico. What will the world say?' 'Ay, what will the world say?' said Thompson, in echo. 'What an example to future ages!' said Rocket.

There will be no redress against indignity and outrage!' said Thompson.

'Certainly, there will be no need of practice,' said Rocket; and really, Lieutenant Thompson, to leave the field without some little serious injury, is only to seem like triflers. This is a melancholy business; it does look childish in the extreme. Suppose'

He paused, and twirled the handle of his pistol with a feverish anxiety.

'Suppose what, Major Rocket?' inquired Thompson, civilly.

'I was thinking-the fact is, Mr. Thompson, all Chestnut-street will laugh at this business. So much for befriending the sons of Quakers. It is highly discreditable. Suppose'.

'He again paused for a few seconds. Thompson looked blank and anxious, but said nothing. Rocket proceeded.

Pardon me: I would have given you the opportunity of making this suggestion, but as through like feelings of delicacy, I presume, you have also forborne, you will pardon me for thus taking the word.'

'Proceed, major,' courteously responded the other.

'Suppose then, Sir, that we take the places which those gentlemen have left. A single shot will be all that we shall require, in order to give a dignified aspect to our meeting. It will otherwise seem to have been a mere bravado-a boyish, braggartly proceeding, which would be shockingly annoying.

Thompson was phlegmatic. He was willing to assist in getting his neighbor shot at, but was minded quite too philosophically to feel desirous of incurring any such idle risk himself. He declined the

invitation with some rapidity. Rocket put away his pistols in great chagrin, and much did he declaim about the decline of chivalry in the land. Meanwhile, Walton asked us all to sup with him and his new wife that night. Thompson and myself readily accepted, though I felt exceedingly disquieted at the idea of seeing Emily as the wife of any body but myself. It was too late now, however, to give my thought to this matter, and I resolved to bear with my privation, and behold his joys, with as little anxiety and envy as possible.

Rocket did not so readily reply to the invitation. He had a condition preliminary; and this was, that no manner of reference should be made by either of us to the affair, which, in his notion, had terminated so unhappily. In particular, he begged that, should it be spoken of by the public, no reference should be made to him as the acting or even present friend of either party.

It would be very unpleasant,' said he, to be spoken of as the friend and second of one who could cut a bamboo, yet throws away his lead. Pardon me, Mr. Walton, - I have no hostility to you, believe me; but public opinion required that Mr. Topic should at least have winged you: and I am doubtful if it will not say that he should have blown out your brains.

'Thank you,' said Walton, kindly, in reply. But will you sup with us, major?'

'Do you accept my conditions?' was the response.

'We do -we do-most heartily. We shall be as secret as mice on the subject for our own sakes. The matter would not tell so readily in favor of either of us.'

You are right, Mr. Walton,' said Rocket, gravely. You sup, you say, at nine. I will come. Pray have a steak for me - rarely done with a sauce of the gum fœtida. I shall be a little out of spirits, I fear, this cloudy weather, and the disappointment—and, excuse me, Sir, but I will come.'

Rocket gave me a seat with him, and we all set off at the same time for home. At night we met again at Walton's, where we saw, and where I looked, with no small philosophy, upon my Emily as another man's wife. The most wonderful point of all was that, on this occasion, I did not come too late. I was punctual to the appointed moment. Emily raised her finger at me — why? - perhaps because I did not come to the wedding. Poor thing she was happy, according to her notion. Would she have been so, think you, if she had only known what had been my intentions? She had been just as much too precipitate for her happiness, as I was, possibly, too late for

mine.

A PORTRAIT.

SHE was a lovely creature! - such a one
As poets love to dream of, artists paint.
Eyes of that tender darkness, whose soft beauty
Steals most upon the soul; dark waving hair,
That clustered o'er a brow of ivory; cheeks,
Whose deep roses struggled with the lilies,
In sweet contention; and soft lips that smiled,
Like rose-buds kissed to life by the warm sun.

THY WILL BE DONE!'

It is a short and simple prayer, but 't is the Christian's stay,
Through every varied scene of care, until his dying day:
As through the wilderness of life, calmly he wanders on,
His prayer in every time of strife, is still Thy will be done!'

When, in his happy infant years, he treads midst thornless flowers,
When pass away his smiles and tears, like April suns and showers,
Then, bending at his mother's knee, play-tired at set of sun,
What is the prayer he murmurs forth? Father! thy will be done!'

When the bright summer sky of time, cloudless, is o'er him spread,
When love's bright wreath is in its prime, with not one blossom dead
While o'er his hopes and prospects fair no mist of wo hath gone,
Still he repeats the first-taught prayer - 'Father! thy will be done!'

But when his sun no longer beams, and love's sweet flowers decay,
When all hope's rainbow-colored dreams are sadly swept away,
As a flowret bent beneath the storm still fragrantly breathes on,

So when dark clouds life's heaven deform, he prays, "Thy will be done!'

And when the winter of his age sheds o'er his locks its snows,
And when his weary pilgrimage is drawing to a close —
Then, as he finds his strength decline, this is his prayer alone:
'To Thee my spirit I resign - Father! thy will be done!'

LOAFERIANA.

NUMBER TWO.

M.

'DоTH companye displease?
Yea, surelye, many a one:

Where doth Desire delight to live?

He loves to live alone!'

VERE.

SCARCE a league to the north from Monument Mountain, which the sweet muse of Bryant has made classic ground, lies one of the most fairy and picturesque lakes that mirror the green hills of New England. Its eastern margent of snow-white sand curves gradually away to the sunny slopes of meadows and cornfields of wavy luxuriance; while the western shore is still bounded, in part, by dark groves of lofty beeches, and still loftier pines, and partly by a broad and rocky glacis of a neighboring mountain, which rises abruptly from the bosom of the lake. Adown this bushy declivity, and ever along these sloping forests, dances many a merry brooklet to the piping of its own wild music, till it throws itself at last into the embrace of the quiet waters beneath, like a play-spent child into the lap of a gentle mother. Not a human habitation is in view on either hand—nothing even to remind one of man, his passions and pursuits, except the little skiff moored in yonder shadowy cove, the cultured fields which bloom around, and the flocks and herds grazing peacefully upon the distant hills. All else is nature, in her free, wild, and unadorned loveliness. 'Beautiful scene!'-murmured the dreamy loafer, as his thoughts wandered away from the sunset charms of the Battery, to that lovelier haunt of other days-thou risest before my imagination like a vision of paradise! Years of toil, and care, and change, have passed over me since I used to gaze upon thy witching loveliness; but Memory has been faithful to her trust, and in her blessed tablet I gaze upon

thee still not a tint faded, not a feature darkened, not a charm dispelled. In thy ideal presence, the stern realities of city life are scarcely remembered or regarded. The smoke, and dust, and tumult, of these busy thoroughfares, are superseded, for the time being, by the breezy coolness, the flowery sweetness, the pleasant warblings, and the delicious repose, which Nature bestows so lavishly upon those who court her smiles amid the green and peaceful hills. Beautiful scene! - even from my lonely attic, I can look away through the starless midnight, as through a magic vista, and feast with eye unobscured on all thy visioned charms. Fancy annihilates both gloom and distance, and through her gay prism thou smilest upon me then with the same tinted beauty which wooed and won my boyish idolatry. But hush thee, dull Prose, and list a murmur of the scallop shell :'