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ff eas t—Ah ! yes, I hope I am good-tem
pered ; but still I am only a monster.
Beauty —There is many a monster who
wears the form of a man. It is better of
the two to have the heart of a man and
the form of a monster.
Beast— Beauty, will you marry me ?
Beauty —No, Beast; but I will always
be vour friend. Let that content you.
And now I have a favor to ask of you.
My father is ill from grieving after me,
and if you do not give me leave to visit
him I shall break my heart.
Beast —I would rather break mine,
Beauty. You shall go and stay at the
cottage, and your poor Beast will die of
sorrow.
Beauty —Oh ! no ; I love you too well
to be the cause of your death; only let
me stay a week and then I will return.
Beast —You shall find yourself with
him to-morrow morning; but mind—do
not forget your promise. When you
wish to return you have nothing to do
but to put this ring on your dressing
table when you go to bed. And now
good night, Beauty.
Beauty —Good bye, Beast; you will see
me again in a week.
Scene 7th. —Room in Beast’s palace, with cur
tain, behind which Beast is, as before ; Beauty
alone, walking up and down.
Beauty —Oh ! when shall I see my poor
Beast! I fear I have wounded his feel
ings so deeply that he will never see me
more. How wicked it was of me to stay
longer than I promised ! to treat him so,
when he lias been so kind to me ! It is
now three days since I returned to
the palace, and he has taken no notice of
me. Twice I have come to this room
and sang, in the hope that ho would hear
me and call me to him. I have never
ventured to seek his presence unless he
sent for me, but I will muster up all my
courage and do so now.
[She draws aside the curtain, and discovers
Beast quite motionless, and apparently dead ; she
throws herself down by him, weeping and sob
bing.]
Beast (in a faint voice) —You forgot
your promise, Beauty, and feeling con
vinced that you cared nothing for me, I
determed to die ; I could not live without
your love, and so I have starved myself to
death. But I shall die content since I
have seen your face once more.
Beauty —No, dear Beast, you shall not
die; you. shall live to marry me. I
thought it was only friendship I felt for
you, but now I know that it is love.
Beast —Ah ! Beauty, you give me new
life with those word. Meet me, then, in
BURKE’S WEEKLY.
this room to-morrow morning, to fulfill
your promise, for it is the only way of
saving my life.
Scene Bth. —Room in Beast’s Palace ; a young
Prince, handsomely dressed ; enter Beauty,
dressed as a bride, with veil, etc.; she starts with
astonishment on seeing the Prince, who comes
up to her and kneels.
Prince —A thousand thanks, lovely
maiden, for having freed me from my
cruel enchantment.
Beauty —But where is my poor Beast?
I only want him, and nobody else.
Prince —l am he, Beauty. A wicked
fairy condemned me to that form until
a beautiful lady should consent to marry
me. You alone, dearest Beauty, judged
me neither by my looks nor my talents,
but by my heart. Take it, then, and all
that I have besides, for all is yours.
Acoa, Habersham Cos., Ga.
——■—
Written for Burke’s Weekly.
Mary Grey’s Disappointment.
BY A LITTLE GIRL.
OTHER ’ said Mar y Gre y
eagerly, as she came in
from school one after
noon ; “Mother, there’s
going to be a sleighing
party to-night! I can go, can’t
I ? They are going about half
past seven, and will stay out until
“ AYho are going, Mary?” asked Mrs.
Grey.
“O, all the girls. Miss Allen is going.”
Mrs. Grey hesitated. She did not want
to be too strict, but she did not approve
of young girls going out in that way of
an evening, without older persons. Miss
Allen, whom Mary mentioned, was very
u’ood-natured, but rather reckless. Mary
saw that her mother hesitated, so she
said quickly :
“ O, please , Mother ? ”
“ I do not approve of it, my dear,” said
Mrs. Grey, at length. “I am sorry to
disappoint you, but you cannot go.”
“ Why, Mother ?We are not going to
do anything that’s wrong,” said Mary,
rather petulantly. “ Won’t you let me ? ”
and she looked eagerly into her mother’s
face.
“No, Mary; if older persons were go
ing I would not care so much. lam very
sorry, darling,” and Mrs. Grey looked
very kindly at her daughter.
Mary went out of the room looking and
feeling very sullen. It was a severe dis
appointment to the child, and her mother
felt it to be such. Mary yielded to her
feelings, and the evening meal, which
might have passed so pleasantly, was
thus rendered very unhappy; but, not
withstanding, there were better feelings
slumbering in her breast.
Mrs. Grey, having seen her little ones
safe in bed, went to spend the evening
with a friend, according to promise.
Mary preferred staying at home. She
presently heard the jingling of sleigh
bells; running to the window, she saw the
merry party approaching, which she had
so much longed to join.
The sleigh drew up before the door,
and very soon the door bell rang. In
Mary’s heart a hard struggle was going
on; an evil whisper said go, your
mother will not know it, you will prob
ably get back before she does. But there
was another voice which spoke also, and
to that voice, by the help of the Holy.
Spirit, she yielded. The right had con
quered ! But not by herself had she done
it, but of God’s Holy Spirit; and He will
help every one who asks it.
At the second summons Mary ran out
quickly, and told them she could not go.
After they left she cried for a while, but
her conscience was at rest, and she felt
happier, far happier, than she would
have done had she disobeyed her mother.
That night, after Mrs. Grey’s return, she
told her all, and very thankful was that
mother’s heart. Mary lay down feeling
very happy, knowing that her mother’s
smile, and w r e think also the blessing of
God, rested upon her.
The Crooked Tree.
A little child, when asked why a cer
tain tree grew" crooked, replied : “ Some
body trod on it, I suppose, when it was a
little fellow.” How painfully suggestive
is that answer ? How many, with aching
hearts, can remember the days of their
childhood, when they were the victims of
indiscreet repression, rather than the
happy objects of some kind direction and
culture ! The effects of such misguided
discipline have been apparent in their
history and character, and by no process
of human devising can the wrong be
now rectified. The grand error in their
education consisted in a system of rigid
restraints, without corresponding efforts
to develope, cultivate, and train in aright
direction.
No mind so bright but drink will
befool it; no fortune so ample but brandy
will beggar it; the happiest it will fill
with misery; the firmest health dissipa
tion will shatter; no business so thriving
that whisky cannot spoil; no character
too pure to abash the insidious tempter.
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