66 cally to experience its sordid' cares, its paltry wants, its petty humiliations, then will be the real trial." "But,” said I, “now that you have got over the severest task,—that of breaking it to her, the sooner you let the world into the secret the better. The disclosure may be mortifying; but then it is a single misery, and soon over; whereas you otherwise suffer it, in anticipation, every hour in the day. 4. "It is not poverty so much as pretense that harasses a ruined man, the struggle between a proud mind and an empty purse, the keeping up a hollow show, that must soon come to an end. Have the courage to appear poor, and you disarm poverty of its sharpest sting." On this point I found Leslie perfectly prepared. He had no false pride himself; and as to his wife, she was only anxious to conform to their altered fortunes. 5. Some days afterward, he called upon me in the evening. He had disposed of his dwelling-house, and taken a small cottage in the country, a few miles from town. He had been busied all day in sending out furniture. The new establishment required few articles, and those of the simplest kind. All the splendid furniture of his late residence had been sold, excepting his wife's harp. 6. That, he said, was too closely associated with the idea of herself; it belonged to the little story of their loves; for some of the sweetest moments of their courtship were those when he had leaned over that instrument, and listened to the melting tones of her voice. I could not but smile at this instance of romantic gallantry in a doting2 husband. 7. He was going out to the cottage, where his wife had been all day, superintending its arrangement. My feelings had be come strongly in'terested in the progress of the family story, and, as it was a fine evening, I offered to accompany him. He was wearied with the fatigues of the day, and, as he walked out, fell into a fit of gloomy musing. 8. "Poor Mary!" at length broke, with a heavy sigh, from his lips. "And what of her?" askea I; "has any thing happened to her?" "What!" said he, darting an impatient glance; "is it 1 Sor' did, contemptible; mean.- Dot' ing, loving greatly or to ex cess. nothing to be reduced to this paltry situation,—to be caged in a miserable cottage, to be obliged to toil almost in the menial' concerns of her wretched habitation ?" 9. "Has she, then, repined' at the change?" "Repined! she has been nothing but sweetness and good-humor. Indeed, she seems in better spirits than I have ever known her; she has been to me all love, and tenderness, and comfort!" "Ad'mirable girl!" exclaimed I. "You call yourself poor, my friend; you never were so rich,-you never knew the boundless treasures of excellence you possess in that woman." 10. "Oh! but, my friend, if this, our first meeting at the cottage, were over, I think I could then be comfortable. But this is her first day of real experience; she has been introduced into a humble dwelling; she has been employed all day in arranging its miserable equipments;3 she has, for the first time, known the fatigues of domestic employment; she has, for the first time, looked round her on a home destitute of every thing elegant,almost of every thing convenient; and may now be sitting down, exhausted and spiritless, brooding over a prospect of future poverty." 11. There was a degree of probability in this picture that I could not gainsay; so we walked on in silence. After turning from the main road up a nărrow lane, so thickly shaded with forest-trees as to give it a complete air of seclusion, we came in sight of the cottage. It was humble enough in its appearance for the most pastoral poet; and yet it had a pleasing rural look. A wild vine had overrun one end with a profusion of foliage; a few trees threw their branches gracefully over it; and I observed several pots of flowers tastefully disposed about the door, and on the grass-plot in front. 12. A small wicket-gate opened upon a foot-path that wound through some shrubbery to the door. Just as we approached, we heard the sound of music. Leslie grasped my arm; we paused and listened. It was Mary's voice, singing, in a style of the most touching simplicity, a little air of which her husband was peculiarly fond. I felt Leslie's hand tremble on my arm. ' Mo' ni al, being low or mean; relating to a servant.-2 Re pined', complained; expressed sorrow or regret. E quip' ments, furniture. He stepped forward, to hear more distinctly. His step made a noise on the gravel-walk. 13. A bright, beautiful face glanced out at the window and vanished, a light footstep was heard, and Mary came tripping forth to meet us. She was in a pretty rural dress of white; a few wild-flowers were twisted in her fine hair; a fresh bloom was on her cheek; her whole countenance beamed with smiles; -I had never seen her look so lovely. 14. "My dear George," cried she, "I am so glad you are come! I have been watching and watching for you; and running down the lane, and looking out for you. I've set out a table under a beautiful tree behind the cottage; and I've been gathering some of the most delicious strawberries, for I know you are fond of them,—and we have such excellent cream,—and every thing is so sweet and still here!—Oh!" said she, putting her arm within his, and looking up brightly in his face,-"oh, we shall be so happy!" 15. Poor Leslie was overcome. He caught her to his bosom, he folded his arms around her, he kissed her again and again; he could not speak, but the tears gushed into his eyes; and he has often assured me, that, though the world has since gone prosperously with him, and his life has, indeed, been a happy one, yet never has he experienced a moment of more ex'quisite felicity. WASHINGTON IRVING. འ. 137. THE FAMILY MEETING. E are all here! WE Father, mother, sister, brother, All who hold each other dear. Our old familiar hearth we're found: 2. 3. THE FAMILY MEETING. We're not all here! Some are away-the dead ones dear, And gave the hour to guiltless mirth. We're not all here. We are all here! Even they, the dead-though dead, so dear, Brings back their faded forms to view. We are all here! Father, mother, Sister, brother, You that I love with love so dear. 325 CHARLES SFRAGUE 138. ADDRESS TO THE MOON. DAUGHTER of heaven, fair art thou! the silence of thy face is pleasant! Thou comest forth in loveliness. The stars attend thy blue course in the east. The clouds rejoice in thy presence, O moon! They brighten their dark-brown sides. Who is like thee in heaven, light of the silent night! The stars in thy presence turn away their sparkling eyes. 2. Whither dost thou retire from thy course, when the darkness of thy countenance grows? Hast thou thy hall, like Ossian? Dwellest thou in the shadow of grief? Have thy sisters fallen from heaven? Are they who rejoice with thee at night, no more? Yes; they have fallen, fair light! and thou dost often retire to mourn. But thou thyself shalt fail, one night, and leave thy blue path in heaven. 3. The stars will then lift their heads and rejoice. Thou art now clothed with thy brightness. Look from thy gates in the sky. Burst the clouds, O wind, that the daughter of night may look forth; that the shaggy' mountains may brighten, and the ocean roll its white waves in light. OSSIAN. 139. EXERCISE OF THE FAN. OMEN are armed with fans as men with swords, and some WOMEN times do more execution with them. To the end, therefore, that ladies may be entire mistresses of the weapon which they bear, I have erected an academy for the training up of young women in the exercise of the fan, according to the most fashionable airs and motions that are now practiced at court. The ladies who carry fans under me are drawn up twice a day in my great hall, where they are instructed in the use of their arms, and exercised by the following words of command:-Handle your fans, unfurl your fans, discharge your fans, ground your fans, recover your fans, flutter your fans. 2. By the right observation of these few plain words of command, a woman of a tolerable genius, who will apply herself 'Shag' gy, rough; uneven. |