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26 But soon a heavy step drew near, ’Twas one, with a stern summons fraught, From the fond sire, to her so dear; It bade her, to his hall be brought; And moved with wonder was the guide, Who led her to his master’s side ; But oh ! it seem’d not strange to her — Her own heart was interpreter. Upon his throne oflofty state, Amid a proud and warrior band, King Charlemagne, the good and great, Sat, with his sceptre in his hand; And when as with an ivy’s clasp, His daughter sought his morning grasp, The smile that lurk’d within his eye, Belied the frowning forehead high. “ Irama,look up,” the monarch said, And as he spoke, with hurried mien, The trembling maiden raised her head, And glanced, like lightning, o’er the scene, But soon she sunk in wild despair, For lie, her Eginliard, was there, And round the breast where she had lain Was clasp’d a heavy iron chain. “ My father !” shrieked the wretched girl, And sunk on his paternal arm, Until each light and flexile curl Was stirr’d with his heart’s pulses warm, “My father ! save him for my sake, Or else this bursting heart must break ! Say, but this word, that he is free, He who is all the world to me !” “ Prisoner for life he must be, child ! This morning from a turret high,” And as the monarch spoke, he smiled, “ Thine artifice quite caught mine eye, And, calling counsel to mine aid, The heavy matter has been weigh’d, And now, since all their votes concur, To thee I yield him prisoner .” And rising from his throne of state, Good Charlemagne, w ith rapid stride, As if he felt the deed was late, Led Eginliard to Imma’s side ; And laying in her trembling hand The long and close-link’d iron band, He call'd on every warrior there, To join and bless the happy pair. Scarce had he ended, when a shout Broke from the martial throng around; And louder yet the cheer burst out, When, at the altar’s sacred bound, The white-rob’d priest, in marriage rite, Before a nation’s raptur’d sight, Made Eginhard and Imrna one: — Header, farewell, my tale is done. Original £alcs. For the Southern Literary Gazette. THE HEN-PECKED: OR HOW HE CURED IIER. BY T. ADDISON RICHARDS. PART FIRST. “No! I tell you, I will he a match for her; I’ll play Petruchio to her Katharine! A wife usurp my prerogative! take the rib bands out of my hands! I, Frank Morton, bow to a woman’s rule! Ha, ha! funny— very—-’pon my soul—very funny—if true! No! no ladies, “ Cursed be the man, the poorest wretch in life, The crouching vassal of the tyrant wife : Who has no will but by her high permission ; Who has not sixpence, but in her possession ; Who must to her his dear friend’s secrets tell; Who dreads a curtain lecture worse than h—11! Were such the wife had fallen to my part, I'd crush her spirit, or I’d break her heart!” There, you have the sentiments of poor Burns, with my hearty endorsement. 1 a hen-pecked husband! Hercules, an infant— Leonidas, a coward—Washington, a traitor, and Mrs. Macbeth a saint!” “Ha, ha, Frank 1 you may talk and laugh and jest—you may flatter yourself as you please, but it won’t do, brother, mine: just marry Isadora Cruston—marry Isadora Crus ton —you’ll see ” “Yes, marry Isadora!” from a second soft voice; “marry Isadora! Isadora! marry Is adora!” from a whole host of fair lips— “ Isadora! Marry Isad ” “Tut, tut, tut ladies! I cry you mercy! My poor ears are only flesh and blood! You are all prejudiced, all wrong. Isadora a shrew! preposterous! as I will prove to you —but there she goes now, past the window, on her way home! I must join her—adieu, ladies—may you never find in a husband more of a tyrant than I shall have in Isado ra Cruston —au revoirP ’ “Good bye, but mark us—marry Isado- SOS'if'SllliM ® SIST? & ♦ “Again farewell —I’m off!'’ “Isadora Crus ” “ Bah!” “Marry Tsado ah! he’s off!” And so, dear reader, he was off and by the side of the fair belle aforesaid; and, of course, we cannot join them until we become better acquainted with the parties. Ihe preceding war of jests arose from a slight difference of opinion between Mr. Frank Morton and his sister and other fair friends, touching the do cility of his lady-love, Miss Isadora Cruston. Isadora was a dashing belle, and Frank a dashing beau. Isadora had set her cap for Frank; and Frank, though he had escaped many similar snares, had very stupidly pop ped his silly head therein. Thus Isadora was the envy of all her fair associates, who, very willingly, vented their spleen in owlish pre dictions for the future. Frank had long remained a bachelor, from the avowed fear of finding only a termagant in a wife; which was, of course, a gracious compliment to the many who were ready to prove to him the folly of his doubts, and to yindicate the character of their sex. In Isa dora he fondly hoped he had at last found the ingenuous and confiding creature, for whom his heart yearned, and he was bent upon calling her his wife. We are now, perhaps, sufficiently intimate with the betrothed to follow them into the parlor of the lady’s mansion, which they were not long in reaching. Isadora has tossed her hat to her obedient lover, but why it should pass through his hands to the table, he does not precisely compre hend. Despite his desire that she should take a seat by his side upon the sofa, she has placed herself at the piano, and has sum moned him to turn the leaves of her music book, a task, which it occurs to his mind, she might more effectually perform herself. Yet he banishes the preposterous reflection, and begs that she will sing for him the pretty song, “Thou, thou reignest in this bosom.” At this sentimental demand the gay lady bursts into an unconquerable fit of merriment, and with a slight sneer replies, “I will sing something quite as novel and more sensible— listed!” “ The lords of creation men we call, And say they rule the whole ; But they find after all, whatever they do, They are under woman’s control —ole—ole, They arc under woman’s control!” Frank thought of the party which he had just left; but, alas! the bewitching eyes of the fair tyrant, at the same instant, met his own, and he — “ Was under woman’s control —ole—ole, lie was under woman’s control!” “ Now Frank, is not that much more ration al than such worn-out, lack-a-daisical stuff as that you wished to hear ?•” “Why, my love, I don’t say that ” “You can’t say! why, you wont allow me the least taste in the world! You used to praise my singing, be it what it might.” “ Well, my love, it is a pretty song—cer tainly very pretty; indeed, one of the pret tiest I have ever heard. Every thing is beau tiful from your lips; sing as you please, I would still, as Shakespeare says, have you ever sing so!” “Oh! very gallant, to be sure, sir; but you do not like it, after all. You have no sym pathy, no appreciation for my tastes. We have opposite fancies in every thing, and shall never be happy together.” “Pardon me, Isadora, if I have uninten tionally offended you —I did not think to do so. I consider your taste and judgment to be always and in all things faultless and in fallible. But Isadora, dearest—now don’t be angry —that song reminded me of what they were saying at Mrs. just before I joined you in the street; but, pshaw! that’s all nonsense; I'll not repeat it.” “Why, Frank, what were they saying about me ?” “Oh! I’ll not remember it, dear—’tis too absurd!” “ But you mvst tell me, Frank!” “No, no, dear —'tis too silly.” “ But I will hear it.” “ Do ex ” “Not a word! You excite my curiosity, and refuse to gratify it. It’s just like you; you have no regard for my feelings. You take a pleasure in teasing me.” “But it will only offend you, Isad ” “You will offend me more if you do not tell me directly. I will know what they said.” “Well then, dearest, if I must repeat it— they hinted—they insinuated—ah, ah, ah, only think of the idea—capital joke ’pon my soul!—they suggested that you —you, Isado ra, my angel, would—would ” “For heaven’s sake would what, sir'?” “Would prove to be a very Queen of ter magants !” “Oh! the slanderers—the malicious vili fiers ! I wish I could tear their eyes out —l do!” “Isadora!” “And you, sir, heard it all patiently and smilingly, and did not attempt to defend me! Oil! dear; why did I ever love such an unfeeling creature!” “ Why, to tell the truth dear ” “Don’t speak to me! You do not care a straw for me, it’s as plain as ” “Forgive me love; the truth is, as I was going to say, that I thought the idea too ab surd to be angry at it; and, besides, I knew they were only jesting. They cannot really hold such a ridiculous opinion of you, any more than I do.” “Well, Frank, I will believe you and for give you, on one condition. Promise me, on your honor, not to go there again!” “But, Isadora, that would be foolish and unkind; they are my best friends—they are ” “ The slanderers of your ‘ angel*—your ‘ on ly hope in life’—as you gallantly call her; yes! sacrifice me to your dear friends—do, I beg of you ” “ Isadora, you attach too much import to a trifle; but I cannot refuse you anything— you are my only treasure—and I promise—” “ Sacredly V’ “ Most religiously, dearest!” “Oh, Frank! it is now my turn to ask for giveness. Now, I know that you do indeed love me, and I will not doubt it again.” “We will then forget them ail, dear; and, for the atonement which you offer me, I will but abridge your days of freedom a little.— You shall prove your forgiveness of my fault, and gain a pardon for your own, by a speedy, appointment of our bridal. You know that you have half promised that it shall be next Thursday, my birth-day; now say positively that that shall be the happy hour.” “ Thursday! I’m sure I did not say Thurs day !” “But, my love, that is an interesting time to you—my birth-day ought certainly ” “ I don’t like Thursday; it shall be the next day!” “ Friday, Isadora! But that, you know, is an unlucky day.” “ day can be unlucky which crowns your most earnest hopes. It shall be only Friday.” “How perverse you are,lsadora.” es! every thing I do or say is stupid.” “ J mean—l mean—l was only jesting dear. You know best, and it shall then be Friday.” “No, you don't like Friday; you say it is unhappy, and you fear the results. I wont have Friday!” “Well then, my love, Saturday.” “ How overbearing you are, Frank, to be sure. Now do, for mercy’s sake, let me have my own way in this matter, at least. It shall be on Monday afternoon.” “Monday I —■” “\es, sir; Monday afternoon, and no oth er time—that's decided, so don't say a single word more about it.” “Well, dearest, may heaven then hasten and bless next Monday: and, Isadora, dear, we will be married at 8 o’clock, and at 9 start off in the cars for B ,as you proposed. You see I let you make all the arrangements.” “Eight! I’m sure I never said anything about 8 o'clock; and I wouldn’t be married at such an hour for the world. Eight, in deed! how could you think of such a thing, Frank. It shall be 10; and we’ll take the steamboat for C at noon.” “Agreed, dear; it shall be ten, that’s all settled, find every thing shall be quiet and private, as you desire.” “ Private, Frank ! What, a private wed ding. Why, Frank, I vow I should feel that I was going to be buried ! Private, indeed! I never said anything of the kind ; but I see you are determined to have it all your own way.” “ I only thought, dearest, that you wished it to be so.” “No, I don’t! We must have a large par ty, and every body must be invited. All the world are married in private, now-a-days; but, for my*part, I think that a wedding, at least one like ours, should be accompanied by ev ery token of gladness and joy.” “ So it should be—and so it shall be, love; and the whole world shall be there!” “No; I don’t want such a jam as Ellen Brown had. She says she wouldn’t go through it again for all the husbands in cre ation. We will only have a very select number—very few.” “Arrange it then, my love, as you please. Make out the list of names and 1 will help you with the earns. But now I must leave you for a while. Business you know. Isa dora, must not be neglected even for love. Good bye—good bye, dear! What a prepos terous idea, Isa, that of Sidney Brown and his friends. We'll soon expose their folly— aye Isadora—ha, ha, ha! God bless you! ra RT SECOND. The long wished-for Monday at length ar rived. Ten o’clock drew near. A large party was assembled in the gay parlors of Mrs. Cruston’s mansion; among the guests, were all the friends of the lovers, excepting only Mr. Sydney Brown, who to the aston ishment of every body, had not been invited. The bridal ceremony passed off happily and merrily, and Frank Morton became a fated Benedict. Congratulations and kisses, God bless-yous and Heaven-protect-yous, were duly exchanged; noon came; the boat was ready; the happy couple waved farewell mouchoirs to waving mouchoirs upon the shore, and were fairly off, on a six month’s bridal tour in Europe. ******* Six months were with the Past; during which many varied events had happened; such as hopes delayed, visions fled, and the opposites of fears dissipated, and joys con summated ; with all other appropriate lights and shades in half a year of the picture of life. Among other items, and which is more interesting to us, at this time, the steamer which had conveyed our friends to Europe, had duly made her appointed trips to and fro ? and was now, again, dropping anchor at the wharf, after a homeward voyage. Among the passengers one stood apart, list lessly gazing over the bulwarks of the vessel, as though it were a matter of life and death, to him, to arrive at an exact estimate of the number of bubbles in the foaming waters be low. The life and joy which should sparkle in the eye of the returning exile, dwelt not in his. His whole air was sad and hopeless. — Neither in his toilet, was there visible any trace of the care and taste, which it was, nevertheless, very evident, once belonged to the man. Ihe vessel was securely moored at the dock,- and happy greetings were swiftly flying from lip to lip, of long parted friends. All was animation and joy, excepting only with our Solitaire. He still mused apart, ap-