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you look upon thai merry brooklet, and give way to sadness I” and then, drawing me to wards her, while she passed her hand over my forehead, she continued: “ ‘ What grief should thy years know 1 Thy brow and cheek .are smooth as waters be When no breath troubles them.’ ” A beautiful face, as well as a voice, had the fair speaker. Oh! how I afterwards loved that face, with its bright complexion, white forehead, dim with the shadow of rich brown tresses, with its full ruby lips, and, more than all, the large, dark, earnest eyes, from which “I drank in soul.” Helen Con way was then “just seventeen;” she was above the usual height—some called her too tall —but her head was so superbly moulded, her bearing so queenly, every movement so graceful, and this dignity was tempered with so rare a spirit of most delicate mirth, that few save the envious, found her height at all detracting from her perfection. She was the only daughter of an English gentleman of great reputed wealth, and she had but one brother, every way worthy of Helen. They had been motherless for many years, but their father had added the tender ness of the lost parent, to the pride they were so well calculated to inspiredn his bosom, and certainly they were a singularly happy fam ily. The summer term passed quickly away, and we were busy in our preparations for the ann ual examination, when Helen was summoned to attend the death-bed of her father. We heard from her, through her letters to one of the teachers. Her father’s illness had been part ly the result of anxiety on learning the loss of all his landed property, and, on his decease, his whole estate was ascertained to be insolv ent. Helen was therefore unable to return to school; she was resolved henceforth to sus tain herself, and for that purpose must go out among strangers! When another term brought us together again, I learned that Helen Conway, though much against her brother’s wishes, had enter ed a Lowell factory as an operative, to supply herself with the means of finishing her edu cation. To her brother’s expostulations she had replied: “It is no disgraceful thing which I would do, Phillip, but one most honorable. I would not make such employment a matter of choice, nor would I perhaps seek such companions as may surround me, but at the worst, the em ployment will not degrade me, nor the asso ciates contaminate, and I shall the soonest gain what I require, and I shall have the sat isfaction of knowing that I have not fettered you, my dear Phillip, in the course you have adopted; for impeded you would be by the maintenance of an indolent, helpless girl.” With what astonishment was this intelli gence received by Helen’s former schoolmates. Her mild dignity had gained for her the res pect of all—her rare intellectual acquirements had commanded it, and her amiable'disposi tion had won even the most thoughtless; but when all these had failed, the aristocratic name she bore, and the knowledge of her father’s wealth, had been sufficient to gain an acknowledgement of her superiority. What was she now 1 ? “A factory girl”—“oneof the Lowell crowd” —a class always placed b 1 the would-be little aristocrats of our number tar below the daughter of the retail grocer, or humble artizan. In spite of the circumstances which had given me my station in the “ upper circle” of our miniature world, this state of things had made me most indignant. I did combat bravely for Nature's true aristocracy; and I uphold it still more warmly now, since a knowledge of the real world has taught me that fine appareling may clothe the most un mitigated vulgarity, and a full purse only aid *ts supercilious importance and ridiculous pretensions. The right to be aristocratic, — ‘tnd I hold there is .such a right,—is one which ffffid cannot purchase, but which comes as a -ree gift of Nature, and this distinction I §®UnF£IBM &, II IT BISA IE Y ®A% B& * reverence next to the rare genius with which she sometimes endows her children. Vulgar ity in a palace, displaying itself in affectations of taste and refinement, so shallow that any clear eye may discern their absurdity, show ing itself also in haughty insolence towards inferiors in station or worldly advantages, and servility towards those elevated by the world’s acclaim, or by yet greater wealth, above them selves, is utterly more despicable and revolt ing than the unconstrained viflgarity of the lower classes. Very few who have the pow er of gaining great wealth, know how to use it; their energies are too often directed only in one channel, and when they have tightly drawn their purse-strings over the last acquir ed dollar, they have as resolutely drawn clos er the heart strings. Stifling all noble im pulses, their head too grows heavy with their hoards, and the highest aspirations of their soul are checked and perish in the tainted at mosphere. D’lsraeli defines “ good breeding” —which is necessary to aristocracy—as “a genial regard for the feelings of others, which springs from an absence of selfishness,” and how can those whose hearts are hard as their treasures, hope to acquire it I But I mean not to digress thus, and will hast en to tell you how my friend fared. The whole year was spent in toil, and its effect was en nobling, for she was stimulated and incited by the highest motives which can influence our conduct, and may not the most menial la bor be rendered a proud, yea, a holy service, when we toil for the comfort and happiness of those we love, for their or our own ad vancement in the beautiful lore the soul craves ? Helen’s leisure hours were well improved; the boarding house piano was ever her choic est recreation, for she had a fine voice and a well cultivated taste for music. A large libra ry, for the use of the operatives in the mills, supplied her with the books her own little store lacked; and besides this she learned many, and to her most strange, lessons of hu man nature, among her associates, until both heart and soul expanded most liberally during her year at Lowell. At the end of the year she returned to school, more beautiful far than she had ever been, for she had learned to be fully conscious of her own peculiar dignity as a woman cap able of self-control, and of self-support. She was more loveable than ever, also, for her heart and a warmer welcome for those whose affection was tried and faithful. “ The sun of my father’s love has .set,” said she to me, referring in her own peculiar man ner to the greeting she had received, “ but the beautiful stars have begun to come out, and lo! they are all suns, too, giving light and joy to other planets. He was nearer to me, so I lived in his beams; hut now, his light, though not his influences, has been removed and merg ed in the glory of God, of which glory his spirit was an emanation.” All, however, were not able or prepared to appreciate her conduct; and even in her pres ence some would speak contemptuously of the factory girl’s life—“of their boarding house pianos—of their libraries, and literary associations.” A slight towards her alone aly gained from her a smile: but when she Heard those whom she had learned to respect spoken of in this manner, she would draw up her queenly figure, and defend them with heart-warm eloquence, until the contemnors quailed under her just sarcasms. Nor was this all she could do for them. She wrote in their behalf, and her pen did ample justice to the subjects which inspired it, and to her own free spirit. “I am determined to put Helen Conway down!” said Eleanor Sibley, home was in one of those proud mansions that overlook the noble square which is the pride of the New England metropolis. “One would im agine her a very princess, or, as a republican, I suppose I must say, ‘President’s Daughter,’ she advances her outre opinions about those Lowell factory girls with such an air of su preme authority, as if she said * you dare not dispute me : I know I am right.’ ” “ If I am not a President’s daughter, I may become a President’s wife—who can tell to the contrary, Nelly Sibley I” and Helen ad vanced, laughingly, from behind the column wffiich had concealed her from our sight. So they all found out they could not put her down, and then they dubbed her “Defen der of Operatives’ Rights”—“ the Ebenezer Elliot of New England” —“ our Yankee How itt,” etc. “Noble titles!” she would say, with perfect good humor, “Don’t you think, young ladies, I could plead w r ell for you when August comes I” And, truly, when the day came for the distribution of honors, Helen received from the school, by unanimous award, the highest they could bestow: an ad dress to be read before the friends of the school in behalf of an Education Society which they had established among them, and Eleanor Sibley was deputed to inform her of their choice! Helen Conway left school, and became a teacher. For three years she toiled in her honorable but laborious vocation, and then she was married to one who had long loved her. If I dared tell you her husband’s name you would recognize it at once as one very familiar to you, for he is a member of Con gress —eloquent, and patriotic, and high-soul ed! Now ; “who can tell but Helen Conway will one day be a President’s wifeOf all in that school, not one has a fairer chance of attaining the station—and will not the “ fac tory girl” do the honors of the White House with superb grace! ©rigmal JJoetrg. For the Southern Literary Gazette. SUNSHINE. The sunshine is a glorious thing, Whene’er its flood-tide fills the world, As if some cloud whose darkening wing Aside by giant hand were hurl’d! A thousand waves reflect it back— The mountain crest the clouds on high It marks the ocean in its track, And gilds the limits of the sky ! The sunshine seems to be the 3mile Os Deity, to mortals given To turn them from their earthly guile, And win their homage back to heaven. S. C. O. Montgomery, Alabama. For the Southern Literary Gazette. AN INTERCEPTED LETTER, FROM A TOWN BELLE TO HER COUNTRY COUSIN. Dear Cousin, your letter by Tom is at hand, As also the basket of cherries; And I send by the bearer my pink velvet band, The two pair3 of slippers from F— s, A love of a dress, which the C—yi—s declare Is a style just imported from Paris — They had but three patterns ; one of them I wear, Another they sold to Miss H s. She had hers made up with a very full skirt, And trimmed with three beautiful flounces ; And I send you beside the tale of “ The Flirt,” And three pounds of candy from M —nc —s. I know you will like it, —the novel, I mean,— It is so delightfully thrilling, Tho’ I think it a shame that so much should be seen Os our sex’ caprice for a shilling ! Then I bought you a charming lace mantle at L—’s —At tho North they’re the top of the fashion: The locket I left to be mended at Ch —s; — Lace shawls, by the by, arc my passion! A3 to music, I got you the best I could find— Two pieces with gay title-pages— The Jenny Lind Polka and The Girl to niy Mind, The latest arrivals at —S-g-s. The riband Pm sorry I could not get matched, Tho’ I tried, as you said, ll & M-s-s : Your shoe I have sent to the shop to be patched— I wish you could see our new horses ! I send you the paper, envelopes and seals, With an inkstand, from R ds & Co’s i And to keep you from running quite out at the heels, There are three pairs of white cotton hose. I think these are all your commissions, dear Ann, Yet stay, there are some things forgotton— The hair-pins—a dozon—some gloves and a fun, And throe spools of fine sewing cotton. Now, what shall I tell you for news, by the way 1 — There is not the hope of a marriage; Captain M is expected to come every day ; The L s are to have anew carriage. You’ll come to Commencement with uncle, I hope ; C takes the first honor, ’tis certain ; Oh, I’ve sent you a cako of that Omnibus Soap, And a dozen brass rings for the curtain. You must make your new dress with a small bishop sleeve, And under-skirts now are worn smaller; They say it is true, though I hardly believe, That our friend, Col. F—n, grows taller. I declare! what a lengthy epistle I’ve penned, And I’vo scribbled all over my paper ! It’s only for you, and one other dear friend, That I’d burn until midnight my taper. So now, my dear cousin, I bid you adieu, — I hope you will think the dress pretty ; And the lace cape is something decidedly new, But not so the love of your HETTY. fjomc (Horraponftmce. For the Southern Literary Gazette. NEW-YORK LETTERS-NO. V. New York, May 30, 1848. My Dear Sir :—An effort was made by the authorities here, some time ago, to establish a greater outward respect for the Sabbath, by closing the cigar shops, oyster saloons, and ihe cases generally, upon that day. During the short time, however, that the law existed it was merely nominal; a thousand and one “ striped pig 1 ’ expedients being successfully resorted to, in its avoidance. At length it died a premature and decided death; and at this time it is so very dead , that if you take a stroll on a pleasant Sunday morning, through the Bowery, Chatham and many other streets, you will find not only the cigar and oyster establishments open, but stores of every other description, presenting as gay an appearance as on any other day of the week, and tempt ing you to step in and be shaved. Every street, and almost every block in the town has its bar-rooms and saloons, accessible throughout the day, and brilliantly lighted in the evening of the Sabbath. In the midst of this very pious state of things at their own doors, some of our most eminent clergy, of various denominations, have published a pro clamation earnestly recommending all and singular of their flocks, and the elect gener ally, to pile up the dimes and dollars for the regeneration of the poor, deluded hottentots of France —that ignorant and benighted race who have never produced greater men than such stupid divines, and poets, and statesmen, and artists, as Fenelon, Bossuet, Pascal, Racine, Moliere, Corneille, De Stae!, Voltaire, Chateaubriand, Talleyrand, Thiers, Guizot, Arago, Lamartine, Beranger, Poussin, Delaroche, Schceffer, Vernet, Talma, and ten thousand other glorious names in every de partment of literature and science. Verily we are a prodigiously wise people—in our own conceits. During the past week, we have had among our distinguished guests, the Hon. Daniel Webster and wife, and the Hero of the Halls of the Montezumas, —Major General Winfield Scott—like Col. Webb, of the “regular army.” The latter lion was ‘sent for’ and came on Thursday. The heavens literally smiled up on him—for the day of his visit was not merely the only pleasant one of the week, but was a jewel of a day, as balmy and lovely a one as you would wish to see. The city fa thers, and other amiable and honored gentle men went to Elizabethtown, his place of res idence, to receive him, and at 2 o’clock in the 35