Ida resumed her former posture, and her father thus continued, speaking at first rapidly, but afterwards with more deliberation : "You know I have told you before, that in my youth I did much that was wrong. I pleased myself, and thought only of myself, and forgot God's service. But I never "He

fecting that vague general view of the perfection | he said, "God keep my darling from all trials of the offender which is always ready to hand that she has not strength to bear! Ought I not when wanted; moreover, it is no guarantee what- rather to say, God strengthen her to bear whatsoever for that permanent and unobtrusive family ever trial He pleases to send? However, I did union which grows out of forbearance, tenderness, not mean to bring these foolish tears there, dry sympathy, and self-distrust; it is nearly egotisti- them, and think no more of them-you see it is cal, because it helps to keep up a sort of common easier to say than to do. Come, is the sky bright stock of satisfaction upon which each member again?" She looked up, smiling. "That is may draw as he requires it, and which results in right; now listen attentively, for I have a history a practical contempt for all differences from (not to tell you." inferiorities to) the home standard; it is worse than ridiculous, because it seriously injures the characters of those among whom it exists. You can scarcely be perpetually overrated by others without learning at last to overrate yourself, or at any rate to be so accustomed to the stimulus of applause, that all viands seem flavorless without told you how it was that I began to repent. it—a great, and in such cases almost an inevi-paused a moment—this was a subject to which he table danger. Besides, the practice of humility, had only once referred, and the shame in his daughalways difficult enough, is rendered doubly diffi- ter's face was even keener than in his own; yet cult where every expression of it meets with a she drew closer to him, and put her hands into pleasant opposition. You must be very clear- his, as though she feared it might be possible for sighted and self-disciplined indeed to be quite safe him to think that she could feel one instant's tranfrom the peril of self-deception-quite guiltless of sitory impulse of condemnation. "When-when ever blaming yourself in all candor, and then lis-your-your mother died," he proceeded, "I had tening for the sweet melody of contradiction. a very severe illness; a brain fever. I was for Woe be to us if even the arms which we clasp several weeks in great danger, sometimes without about the neck of our beloved ones, shall draw consciousness, oftener in a state of delirium. Durthem back as they labor along the upward path! ing the whole of this time I was sedulously and Let us not indeed cling less closely-but let us tenderly nursed by a friend who scarcely ever left cling so as to sustain and help! my bedside, though the fever was supposed to be Mrs. Chester was not always so cautious, but of an infectious nature. His name was Nesfield. in the present instance she too was silent. She He was a man of high family, good fortune, and had drawn a few paces apart, and perhaps she did very eccentric character; full of warm, kind feelnot hear the conversation. Her hands were clasp-ing, though, as you will see from the sequel, desed upon her forehead, and under their shadow she titute of principle. He used to spend hour after was gazing fixedly at the sea.

"Well, but, Ida," resumed her father, "there are other disappointments in affection besides faults. There are separations enough in life, before we come to the last great separation.”

hour in trying to soothe and relieve me; he told me afterwards that I kept my hands tightly clasp[ed upon a small book which no persuasion would induce me to relinquish it was my wife's—one of her few English books, a St. Thomas à Kem"Death," said Ida, her soft eyes filling with pis. Once when I was asleep he took it out of tears, as leaning on her father's knees she still my hands, and the next time that my delirium relooked earnestly into his face. "Oh! that is curred, it came into his head to read aloud a porsolemn and sorrowful, papa-but no disappoint- tion of this book, and see whether it would proment rather the light and life of hope. It is duce any effect upon me. I wept, laid mysel separation, you know, but not disunion, because down quietly, and listened like a child—ah, how we still pray with each other, and we love more often I had heard it before! How often, in the I was at the grave to-day," (happy cool night time, I had listened to her voice as she

than ever.

Ida! she knew but of one grave,) " and I watered the myrtle, and hung a circlet of roses upon the white cross; so I have still that little service to render and can you doubt that he still loves us in Paradise!"

"You speak bravely and truly, my child," said Percy; "you could then be content to be thus parted from those you love-from me?"

One passage

read it aloud, slowly, and with her sweet foreign accent, to the maid who was loosening and arranging her abundant hair before she went to rest! She did not guess that I was hearing; and I heard only the music of the accents, and thought nothing of the words, which had, however, hidden themselves in some shady nook of memory, and now came forth to move me to tears. which she had been accustomed to read oftener than the rest came back to me with special force, and fixed itself in my thought, so that, even when my mind was wandering, I used to repeat it over There was a momentary expression of anguish and over again unweariedly. She had returned in his eyes, but it passed as quickly as it came, to it so often out of her care for the girl who as, gently disengaging himself from her embrace, waited upon her-an Englishwoman who had suf

Her face was hidden on his breast, her arms twined closely about his neck, as, nearly inarticulate with sudden weeping, she murmured, "Oh! no, no, no."

"There will come an hour when all labor and you to me, my Ida; when they feared that I was trouble shall cease. sinking into that worst kind of madness, to which

"Poor and brief is all that which passeth away speech and motion are impossible, and life is nothwith time.

Christian?" she added, with a wondering, puzzled | ly as he could, a piece of sorrowful news; that he expression. had not been working upon her feelings without "We will not judge him," said Percy, solemn- | cause, but in order to soften if possible the blow "he is in God's hands. He is dead." Dead!" repeated Ida, with a look of terror, clasping her trembling hands.

ly;

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“Even so,” returned her father," he died quite suddenly; a fit seized him while out hunting—he was brought home and died the next morning. He was perfectly insensible till the very moment of death, when he opened his eyes, and with great effort pronounced my name twice. I trust it was an emotion of forgiveness. One of the persons who was present, and who happened to be a mutual friend, communicated immediately with me. I received the intelligence a week ago, and, of course, I then opened the letter, which I have now had in my possession seventeen years."

which he was about to inflict. This could not have escaped a woman--one whose education had advanced even a little way under that stern preceptor, Life—but Ida was a child. In the interest of the story, she had lost all recollections of its purpose, and of the conversation which preceded it. Childhood is supposed to lose much suffering because it anticipates none; did those who thus judge ever think of the cruelty and bitter suddenness of a new and unimagined grief?

66

My dearest child," said Percy, with the quiet and tender firmness habitual to him, and from which there was no appeal, "I cannot take you with me."

Ida started; the idea of resistance, even of the breath-resistance of supplication, never once occurred to her, but it was very hard to bear. Yet with her whole heart full of sympathy, love, and obedience, how could she once think of herself? It was of her father she had been thinking, for him she had been feeling, and she could not change in a moment to self-indulgence and self-pity; her impulse was to crush by a quick effort every thought that could add to his pain, to conquer her own emotion, as it were by violence, for his sake. She would not let him see that it grieved her--she would put a cheerful face upon her misery; this was a holy deception. So she looked up at him, with eyes straining to keep themselves free from tears, white cheeks, and lips quivering with a painful smile, and asked gently, "And where am I to go?"

"A very few words, but of astonishing import -I have it here;" he took the paper from his pocket, and read what follows:-"If I should die, I desire your protection for my wife and child, now resident at the convent of Santa Fé, near under the name of Gordon. Their existence is known to no living being but myself, nor will it be revealed till my death.-James Nesfield.' This was all. The letter which brought the news of his death contained no allusion whatever to his marriage, but speaks of a cousin in England as his next heir. It also informs me that among his effects was found a sealed box, with these words written upon the lid, 'To be burned in case of my decease.' A pencil had been afterwards drawn across this inscription, and my name written below, also in pencil-apparently this was one of his last A very solemn duty devolves upon me, and one which I am of course bound in a special and most impressive manner to execute. I must endeavor to find this unhappy lady and her child if alive, or to procure sufficient evidence of their death. They are given into my charge as it were from the grave, and I dare not neglect for a moment the task thus imposed. Of course, my first step must be to visit the convent-it is in Syria-and to learn all that I can on the spot. Afterwards I must proceed to Delhi, where my friend died, and open the box, which has been kept untouched till my orders are received concerning it, and in which I hope to find the certificate of the marriage."

acts.

Ida listened with the deepest interest. "And why was the marriage kept secret ?" inquired she. "I fear, from motives of pride; but, of course, this can only be conjecture," replied Percy, hesitatingly, and looking at her with an expression of inquiry.

Ida mused a little, and then looked up at her father. "And when do we set off?" asked she.

Poor Ida! What a child she still was. All that careful and tender preparation-all that elaborate prelude of supposititious sorrows-it had just gone for nothing. It never occurred to her that her father had been trying to break to her, as cautious

66

"You will be at Evelyn Manor, my love," replied her father; your aunt Melissa has kindly promised to take charge of you during my absence. I hope to return before that eighteenth birthday of yours, to which we have been looking forward so long, when the whole family is once more to assemble at Evelyn. I shall write to you very often."

Ida drew her breath with a quick, sobbing sound, but was silent. Mrs. Chester approached and put her arm round her waist. "My dear Mrs. Chester," said Percy, "you will not, I am sure, refuse to accompany Ida. It would be so hard for her," he added, dropping his voice, "to go at once among strangers. I am sure I may reckon upon you in this?"

further discussion of the subject. "It is enough," said she, almost sternly, "I will go."

Percy turned to his daughter, and folded her silently in his arms. She shook from head to foot. "When?" said she hastily; she could articulate no more. "God bless my darling child!" was his solemn answer. She dropped upon her knees, and once more those dear hands were laid gently upon her head, once more was she clasped in those venerated arms and held to that loving heart, and -he was gone! Madeline led her to her room, and wisely judged it best to leave her for a little while alone. As she descended the stairs, she saw Percy in the hall; he beckoned to her, and when she came to him, said hurriedly

Percy wrung her hands warmly, and adding a few hasty words about avoiding the pain of a farewell interview, left her.

Madeline was perfectly calm when she joined Ida an hour afterwards, and they passed the first part of the night in prayer and weeping. Towards morning the exhausted girl fell asleep, and her friend watched by her side; all was still, save for the uneasy breathing of the slumberer who lay on the bed, her head pillowed on her arm, and the tears still undried upon her burning cheek. The gray light of dawn was beginning to spread its pale, cold tints over the room. Madeline went to the window; it was a cloudy morning, and a fog lay heavy upon the distant sea, the foliage of "I am a coward; I despise my own weakness, the trees was all uncurled by damp, the earth but cannot conquer it. I cannot tell her-per-looked black, and the grass sent up a white steam. haps, too, it is not necessary yet. But, Mrs. Before the door a servant was holding a horse, and Chester, you must pledge me your word not to in another moment Percy came forth. He looked leave her. I have reason to believe that I carry neither right nor left, up nor down, but straight within me the seeds of a mortal disease; it before him; his step was quick and firm; he will, most probably, be long before it makes itself sprang on his horse, touched its shoulder with the apparent; but it is possible that-that-it may be whip, and, without a word to the bowing groom, necessary to write to her and inform her of it. rode off at speed. Madeline looked involuntarily You are to her almost a mother; she is a tender towards the bed. Ida had changed her position, child; I cannot leave her, even though it is my and there was a lovely smile on her face, as though duty to do so, unless I know that you will be with her dream was a happy one. She turned and her. Will you give me your word to remain with softly kissed the pillow, then crossed her hands her till I return-or, if God so will it, till I die? over her bosom, and murmured, still sleeping, beYou understand me; will you pledge your word tween her smiling lips, "Peace, peace!" It is an for this?" angel who guides !

GIVE place, you ladyes all,

unto my mistresse faire,

For none of you, or great or small,
can with my love compare.

If you would knowe her well,
you shall her nowe beholde,
If any tonge at all may tell
her beautie[s] manyfolde.

She is not high ne lowe,

but just the perfect height, Below my head, above my hart, and then a wand more straight.

She is not full ne spare,

but just as she sholde bee, An armfull for a god, I sweare; and more-she loveth mee.

Her shape hath noe defect,

or none that I can finde,

Such as indeede you might expect
from so well formde a minde.

Her skin not blacke, ne white,
but of a lovelie hew,
As if created for delight;
yet she is mortall too.

"Now at thy pleasure roam, wild heart,
In dreams o'er sea and land;

I bid thee at no shadows start:
The Upholder is at hand."

Her haire is not to[o] darke,

no, nor I weene to[o] light;

It is what it sholde be; and marke-
it pleaseth me outright.

Her eies nor greene, nor gray,

nor like the heavens above,

And more of them what needes I say,

but they looke and love?

Her foote not short ne long,

and what may more surprise,

Though some, perchance, may thinke me wrong,
't is just the fitting size.

Her hande, yea, then, her hande,
with fingers large or fine,

It is enough, you understand,
I like it-and 'tis mine.

In briefe, I am content

to take her as she is,

And holde that she by heaven was sent
to make compleate my blisse.

Then ladies, all give place

unto my mistress faire,

For now you knowe so well her grace,
you needes must all dispaire.

Old Ballad of 1566.

CORRESPONDENCE.

Paris, 30th August, 1848.

showed faces as distressed and haggard as could have issued from any scene of nocturnal dissipation. My last accounts are down to Thursday the Some diverting pictures have been drawn in my 24th, at post-hour. Until Saturday, the week re- presence by witnesses on the floor. The house sembled the one preceding the Four Days of June, was never more full; and it held out wonderfully. in the agitation of the faubourgs and the disquietude Cavaignac wore a plain civic frock coat; his uniof the orderly classes; similar scenes were gener- form sedateness of demeanor, and the manly resolually expected. It was well known that not more tion and just feeling which he displayed when he than a tenth of the workmen and vagabonds who spoke, increased the impression of the great mabelonged to the ateliers had quitted the capital; jority in his favor. Preliminary explanations of testhat paupers, or the dependents on public bounty, timony consumed a couple of hours; the chairman had multiplied; and that the Red Republic felt it- of the committee vindicated the preparation and subself as strong in numbers, at least, and steadfast in mission of the report and evidence, and Ledru-Rolpurpose, as at any period. Friday, the day of the lin, Caussidière, and Louis Blanc were heard at all discussion of the report and testimony, which was length in their own defence. Rollin scarcely atparticularly mentioned to you last week, became tempted a justification; he turned on the old mothat of special alarm. If the Assembly had not narchical opposition, so numerous in the Assembly, astonishingly restrained itself throughout its sitting and declaimed with sensible effect on the blunders, of eighteen hours-if those violent emotions and inconsistencies, and excesses by which they had altercations, to which French public bodies are sub-contributed to the ruin of the Orleans royalty. ject, had been indulged, insurrection in the streets This man is overrated in respect to talents and powould, probably, have ensued, notwithstanding the litical qualifications; but he can harangue skilfully, vast array of troops, and the known determination in a way to reach and embarrass his adversaries, of President Cavaignac, and the stern minister of and win a momentary triumph over the antipathies war, Lamoricière. and judgments of his audience. He charged Arago, his former colleague, with falsehood; the illustrious savant firmly and peremptorily reiterated his assertion, and was believed. The lie direct passed between two other members, Turck and Baune, and then between Louis Blanc and Mon

At the outset, the President of the Assembly, Marrast, admonished the house of the superlative expediency of moderation and patience; the common impression that the sitting would be tempestuous, and exasperate the different parties to extreme courses, served, as often happens in such sieur Trélat, the ex-minister of public works. cases, to prevent the evil by the unremitting dread of it a memento of caution and self-control. Two representatives, qualified to judge, and a member of the chief military staff, have expressed to me their belief that at least sixty thousand troops were on foot or held in readiness during the night, and every position important for defence was adequately occupied, independently of the force of the guards. The first appearances were everywhere akin to those of Wednesday; this description is

accurate:

Considerable movement was perceptible outside the chamber; workmen were collected down the quays, but not in the immediate neighborhood of the building, the guardians of Paris ordering them off, if they attempted to take up a position near the bridge. There was no extraordinary display of force visible, but at the top of the steps under the peristyle were placed two pieces of cannon, precisely behind two of the pillars, so as to be invisible from the front, but perceptible when the building was viewed obliquely.

Inside, the tribunes were all crowded at an early hour, the number of ladies being unusually great.

Not a few of the representatives sat armed with pistols and poignards. A portion of the galleries was appropriated for the wives of the members. Such of the wives as remained at home did not retire to rest; they despatched messengers, from hour to hour, who might inform them of the condition of things. Most of the ladies who entered the galleries, kept their seats until the close of the proceedings, and, when day broke upon them,

Trélat repelled the charge with indignation; he affimed that his deposition about Blanc was correct; Blanc rejoined that the lie lay between the minister and the chief of the national ateliers; it must be with one or the other. The house murmured. Caussidière, the illiterate and traitorous ex-minister of police, read an interminable defence, elaborated for him by a professional scribe. He was made to call the attention and sympathy of the auditory to his aged mother, a hag, present in the galleries; and laughter was still more widely excited by the following topic:

Referring to the address mentioned in the report as having been made by him to the commissaries of police, he maintained that his sole object was to set aside everything that could excite discord amongst the various classes of the population, and hence the strong expressions of that document. He quoted, as a proof of his anxiety to avoid everything that might offend, his own polite language in his reply to the drivers of hackney coaches.

In concluding, Ledru-Rollin boldly pleaded the cause of socialism and the merits of the red republic. This identification could not but gratify his antagonists. They knew him capable of any association and intrigue-of any Jacobin doctrine and policy; it was well that he should take this unequivocal position. He failed in his object of provoking tumult, and especially of exciting the leaders of the old deputies, Thiers, Barrot, Dupin, to a battle with the republicans of the eve. They maintained deliberate silence; listened calmly and closely; seemed content with the success of the labors