eminent beauty exists, whose furniture is of the most homely character. Here it was not so. Fair as was the person of Olivia Goodall, the adorning of her mind was equally fair. She either was not aware of her external attractions, or she thought with Solomon-" Favor is deceitful and beauty is vain; but a woman that feareth the Lord she shall be praised." Her affectionate disposition and pious simplicity endeared her to an extensive circle. Twenty summer suns had passed over her head, and her heart had never known a more tender emotion than friendship could inspire, excepting what she had felt towards God and her family connexions; but her reign of peace and freedom expired nearly with her teens. A pressing invitation from one of her sisters, who had already been some time married, and was settled respectably in London, drew her from the sylvan scenes of a quiet country life, to the glare and bustle of one of the most captivating cities in the world. To state what were her feelings during the hurry of preparation, or at the period of her departure, would be mere speculation; these things, and others, connected with her journey to town, are easily supplied by the most morbid imagination. It will, therefore, be sufficient to my purpose to state that counsel, such as piety, experience and affection might be supposed to offer, was given by her venerable sire, and received by the amiable Olivia with devout attention; and that, after four-and-twenty hours' travelling, she reached the busy and gay metropolis of her country, and shortly after felt herself pressed to the bosom of her beloved sister. Sincere in all her professions, and artless as innocence could make her, Olivia judged of others by her own guileless nature; and hence, too soon fell a victim to craft, deception, and villany, of a rank, but too common a kind. Among a number of respectable families, whom she visited in company with her sister, was a Mr. Freeport's, a gentleman whose character and connexions rendered such acquaintance desirable. But in every earthly advantage there is something to mar and deteriorate. It was here. The wife of Mr. Freeport was as opposite to himself as contrariety of character could make her. If the decided piety of her husband was not a matter of open dislike and ridicule, it was merely tolerated by her. Her public profession, indeed, resembled his; but her private conduct too plainly demonstrated, that hers was profession without principle. Boisterous in her temper, vain in her pursuits, and dressy in her person, she was the bane of her husband's peace, and the destroyer of her own and her family's happiness. Two sons were all the children they had, who, under proper training, might have become ornaments to society, and blessings to their connexions. But who does not know the influence of a mother's conduct? Who is not aware of the awful capabilities of which she is possessed, and the consequent responsibility attaching to such a character? The ruin or preservation of her offspring, principally, as an instrument, rests with herself. It was fashionable for Addison, Johnson, Steele, Knox, and others of their day, who were distinguished as essayists, to hold up, by satire, to reproof, the unnatural conduct of mothers who deserted their children in infancy, by turning them over to a nurse, and, in after life consigning them to the care of tutors and governesses. But a worse, if possible, course of conduct has led me thus to diverge a little from my tale. Who can but tremble for those whose cruelty is not sufficiently exercised by leaving their children to pursue the course their own depraved nature may point out, but who, abetting them in their practices, furnish them with the means yet more effectually to carry out into daring acts their enmity towards God? Such is, in too many instances, the case with mothers now; and such was the case with Mrs. Freeport in reference to her two sons. Unknown to her husband and friends, she furnished them with sums as their wishes desired, to plunge into every kind of gaiety and excess, at the theatre, the ball-room, and the card-table. As, however, this line of conduct was pursued in secret, an external profession was still maintained by the youths, to the deception of the father and others. The Such had long been and such continued to be the state of affairs at Mr. Freeport's when Olivia and her sister visited. However much the feelings of Marcus, the eldest son of Mr. Freeport, might have been deadened by his pursuits of folly, he was not insensible to the charms of the lovely Olivia; and yet they were too vitiated to feel the pure and holy passion, to which only, with propriety, the epithet love is applied. Every interview increased what was considered his affection towards her. artless Olivia saw, and judging by what she saw, approved, and approving loved-yes, she returned an almost idolizing passion for a base and worthless counterfeit. The proposals of young Freeport were listened to, the character of the worthy father was forwarded to Mr. Goodall, his consent was obtained, and in about nine months from leaving the parsonage, the happy Olivia Goodall returned from it again to London, expecting to be the happy Mrs. Freeport. Everything furnished presumptive evidence to her, that she should realize at least as much of happiness as usually is known by the happy in the married state. She was united to the man of her affections, for her heart was wholly his; their circumstances in life were more than merely easy, and her husband was kind and attentive. But the sunny brow of her joys was evanescent, as is frequently the pageant which adorns the heavens after the falling of a summer shower. Unkindness succeeded to inattention, and that was followed by partial desertion: home, for him, appeared to have no charms, and religion, no attractions: still the affectionate Olivia neither felt nor expressed any diminution in her regards. She loved him with all the ardor of a woman's love-than which nothing is more lasting, nothing more strong. She even displayed increasing affection, as her husband's declined; and sought, by devoted kindness, to make his home the most delightful spot which earth could present, and to bind it and herself to him. But her efforts were vain, and she wept, unreprovingly, over what she could not remedy. Four years she had been a wife, and now two lovely children claimed and enjoyed her diligent and affectionate care. These became her chief earthly comfort; to train their infant minds to knowledge and piety, engaged all the spare time from other concerns which now pressed heavily upon her, and which, from their nature, should have been attended to by her husband. Still no murmur escaped her, no upbraiding word fell on the ear of him she still loved; much less did any intimation to her friends furnish materials for conjecture even that she was not happy. No! her own bosom, and the ear of God, were the repository of the secret of her sufferings, which to her were sacred. It was no unfrequent thing, now, for Olivia to be left alone, with all the weight of business on her hands, for a week or two together. He who had played the hypocrite already to such perfection, had not lost the ability to support that character still: in fact, he played it not-it was his own. Olivia, unsuspecting as ever, for still she loved him with the strength of first love, and hence the glaring inconsistencies in his conduct passed off unnoticed by her gave full credence to every tale he told. Sometimes an unexpected circumstance connected with business was feigned, to call him to the country, in one direction, sometimes in another; on such occasions, she displayed all the tender affection of a wife, by hastening, with an assiduity which few could have surpassed, to prepare for his departure; and then, with her own hands, packed his portmanteau, lest any comfort should be forgotten-with all the devotion of a young lover, she bade him adieu, while he hasted to the scenes which he loved, and such as I forbear to mention. Once already had the profligacy of Marcus Freeport involved him in embarrassment. The marriage portion of Olivia was expended, and additional help was indispensable; for, without it, publicity would be given to the state of his affairs. In this dilemma, the confiding, devoted wife, believing that misfortune, as stated by her husband, was the cause, so represented the case to her pious father, and he, relying on the statement of his beloved child, promptly remitted the sum required. This affair had passed away, when, one fine evening, Olivia was sitting with her beloved Marcus, as she fondly called her husband; the children were gambolling around them, and happiness once again seemed entering their habitation. Indeed, the kind-hearted Olivia always felt happy when Marcus was with her. She was now gazing on him in a rapture of affection, when a gentleman was announced, inquiring for Mr. Freeport; the servant was desired to introduce him; he entered, and, after a brief apology for his intrusion, exhibited a writ, by virtue of which he claimed Mr. Marcus Freeport for his prisoner. Olivia shrieked, sprang with a convulsive bound to the side of her husband, as if to protect him, and fainted at his feet. Returning consciousness presented her affrighted children weeping over her, who, with the servant, alone remained. Her husband was immured within the strong walls of a prison. During one of the days which her husband had devoted to pleasure, he journeyed with a female of fascinating appearance. The appearance of Mr. Freeport was perfectly gentlemanly. Struck with the beauty and accomplishments of his fair companion, he resolved to carry off the prize which was thus presented; and hence, assuming an air and consequence perfectly nautique, he appeared before her la courageux et illustre Captain George Frederick Stanley. The beautiful Miss Maria Louisa Nevell, after a courtship of a few weeks, was led to the altar, and became the deceived bride of an accomplished villain. In two weeks he abandoned her. A few days only passed, and the public papers told a tale which Olivia would never have told. Her pious and venerable father read the heart-sickening statement, and instantly sent such condolence as his child's circumstances required, accompanied by a request, that she would retire with her family to his parental abode, and make his house her home. She declined. Her heart still was his, who had basely spurned the purest, strongest affection. Her determination was fixed, and she awaited the issue of his trial. The morning of the day arrived-the case was opened-his marriage with Olivia was proved. It only remained to substantiate his second marriage to make out a case of bigamy. To the "glorious uncertainty of the law," however, he was indebted for a verdict, which, although in his favor in reference to his freedom, removed not from his character the blot with which it was stained. The marriage, indeed, was clearly proved, as far as the ceremony went; but that was rendered invalid by the omission of one of the lady's given names, and he was discharged. Even yet, with the fondness of a wife who deserved a better husband, Olivia loved him; and, on the day of his acquittal, waited for him at the door of his prison, and receiving him to her bosom, conveyed him in a carriage she had prepared for the purpose, to their habitation. The wound, however, which such infamy had inflicted upon the peace of the aged Mr. Goodall, bowed him down to the earth. "I have," he replied to a friend who paid him a visit shortly after," I have been poorly some time, and this last affair has been the breaking up of my constitution." He continued for a while to perform the duties of his office; but, at length the village bell, which had for so long a period called his flock to receive the word at his lips, summoned the weeping villagers to follow to the grave the remains of their faithful and beloved minister. Olivia, too, like some scathed flower beat down beneath a desolating storm before its beauty had declined, sunk under the loss of her venerable parent, and the continued unkindness of her husband, whom still she loved with the unabated ardor of strong affection, and whose crimes she still sought to hide from popular observation. As the heavy hand of death pressed upon her heart, and the feeble pulse of life beat slower and yet more slow, she prayed for him; and while her redeemed spirit passed gently away, and the whispered "farewell" issued from her lips, her closing eye gazed fondly on him; and even in death, the placid smile which sat upon her countenance, seemed to express what she had during life so powerfully displayed-Enduring affection. THE ANGEL'S SEARCH. BY MRS. JANE L. SMITH. I CANNOT find the thing I seek, They told me earth was beautiful; Of scented shrubs and pleasant plants, Of vines and myrtle bowers. |