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§ERMS,* PEK ANNUM IS ADVANCE. SECOND YEAR, NO. 3 WHOLE NO. 53. i mmm fmm tb ffliw, w am mb smcis, mb to giiiml xamusim LS rf In) & li\>3 iU & Ij£ o | For Richardd’ Weekly Gazette. STANZAS IN APRIL. I!Y WM. GILMORE SIMMS. A few light drifts of fleecy snow, And all the skies are bright again. While gusts of March subdued, now blow, In murmurs only o’er the plain ; They speak of milder guests at hand, And gentler powers that take the sway, ■Sweet nymphs of Spring, a joyous band, That dance around the maiden, May ! Ah ! precious flow’rs, that, to the heart, Appeal, with promise long to cheer; Beneath my feet, I see ye start, In token of the awakening year ; Even while the snow drift sweeps the plain, Your leaves of blue are gleaming low, Above the very spot again, Which made your graves a year ago. Ye had your mission fr awhile, I And served as teachers sweet of love, As infant souls appear to smile, Then flee, to tempt our souls nbove ; A thousand seasons hence, when f, Within a grave like yours recline, My children shall your blossoms spy, And muse with grateful thoughts like mine. JVoorilani/s, S. C. r.r.u.s &© 2i a asm, 1 ir m ■■ - -- For Richards’ Weekly Gazette. THE NEW ARIA: A TALE OF TRIAL AND TRUST. 8 BY .1. M. LEGARI2. CHAPTER FIRST. ■ln the principal street of a Southern Ci ty. stands a house somewhat lofty and imposing in appearance, and adorned with tijii shrubbery in front, which, in the long course of years, has in turn been occupied hi numerous tenants, some of whom have lef their names upon the window panes, tmeed in an idle fit, possibly while gazing oil listlessly on a rainy day—and others, tir taste or distate displayed in improve nfcits within or without the building; but fMm all these, it is the purpose of this tale tii eparate and distinguish two —a husband of twenty-six, and a still more youthful far from dawn one bleak November wi ning, the then master of this house as cAuled the marble steps, flushed, excited, bit less, and with dress awry—and passing in, drew a seat by the fire still smouldering in one of the frequented rooms, and sat | wiih his chin upon his clenched hands, pfcpped upon his knees, abandoned to bit tat musings. cursed fate!” he cried repeatedly be ■ft en his teeth, but in a suppressed tone ; “a cursed black fate, without one gleam of h#; ie. Yes, now lam lost, soul and body!” ! Hffe had lit a candle in the hall and plac el it on the mantel shelf, and so soon af t® his entrance that the llame of this had bit just begun to burn brightly, a comfort el came to him from the opposite chamber, dressed, but the prettier for that ur -tudied negligence, with soft brown hair twisted into a knot on her neck, aid all traces of recent tears washed from face and eyes. She knelt down un- close bes Me him, removed bv gt itle force the rather sullen arm from his k: ’e, and with her cheek laid upon her clipped hands, looked up into his eyes, without a word. The husband acknowl edged her presence by an endeavor to turn Be current of his.thoughts, and smoothing l|e head under his hand, said deprcca 'l'gly I “ Why, Lu, I did not think to find you ■l 1: you aie not acci stomeiljo do so!” “ I was not up,” she replied ; “but soft as you walked across the hall, I heard Hou. and when you entered this room, I 4 aid not hear, dear love, to lie awake and imagine you suffering all alone the weight of this misfortune, whatever it is, which has made you so unmistakably unhappy for days past.” He gratefully caressed the soft cheek and temples for a moment, but his eyes went back to the embers, and his thoughts to the misfortune, before she had well ceas ed speaking. “ Dear, dear husband, tell me all that is in your heart; it cannot make me so mise rable to hear the very worst, as to be Shut out from your confidence, as now. I, too, who used to be so proud above all things, to say to myself—He lias not a thought or hope in this wide world, unshared with his wife!” “ You do not know what you ask,” he returned, touched by her words, and half wavering; but immediately after, as if an instant’s reflection had strengthened his resolution—“No, no: from me you must never hear it. Oh! that I had died—died a thousand deaths—before I brought woe to a fireside that is yours !” Shocked by his sudden vehemence and the expression of his face, the young wife shrank into silence, but her eyes eagerly watched the changes of his countenance, while her cheek pressed almost convulsive ly his knee, round which her arms were locked. “Harry, my own,” she said at last, but so softly that her voice scarcely broke the stillness, “do you remember when we were quite young and only lovers, that in ram bling through the woods together, we came to a dark and swift stream, just emerging from the swamp, and crossed by a single plank, so slender that I was sure it would never sustain my weight in the middle, HlUlll to go before, because, you said, it was quite elastic and would not break, as you had often tested, but bent only and some times dipped a little below the surface : and therefore you wished me to cross first, shat I might cross dryshod. But I still doubt ed and stood watching the rushing water, until you exclaimed, almost reproachfully, 1 If you will not rely on yourself, at least trust in me/’ And then I answered, be cause it was in my heart, and would be out, in spite of myself as it were, ‘Yes, that I will do always!’ and was already on the opposite bank, trembling, but happy in finding all just as you had said.” “ Yes, I recollect.” He had been brooding again, with fin gers interlocking one another as rigid as iron, and with a frowning brow : but she gently undid their clasp, and drawing his arm around her slender waist, stood half erect, kissing his forehead and smoothing away its furrows with her hand. “ And long after that, when we had been long betrothed, and you in the eagerness of your love could not consent to await the hopeless ‘ yea’ of your uncle, but urged upon me a secret marriage for the time be ing—and in my bosom the yearnings of my own heart struggled with the more prudent remonstrance my lips uttered, ‘ that a young girl's good fame is her costliest treasure, and that should I, for having risked it, even for your sake, at some day appear unwor thy in your eyes— ’ but here, when I had looked full into those eyes as 1 named them, I saw the same sorrowful reproach which had stirred my heart by the swamp stream, although now you spoke no words —and straight forgetting all things but the might of love in my soul, again I crossed upon the unsteady bridge the dark creek, and lay upon your bosom, sobbing, ‘ I am : yours—yes, yours only, now and forever!’ ” “ My own generous, best-loved wife !” “ And later still, when nearly a year had elapsed, and we sat for the first evening in j this room, the possessors of all we had co- j veted, (he was now earnestly regarding, her, but furtively,) have you forgotten how you drew me close, closer, to you, and said, so fervently that I believed you with all my soul, ‘ I will never have a secret hence forward, from the wife of my bosom; all my heart shall be as open to these loving . eyes as to mine own !’ And when 1 ask- j ed, why not have omitted that word 1 hence-, forward,’ you returned, smiling, ‘Well,: omit it, then.’ Perhaps I would have quite , forgotten these minute details, had they not been impressed upon my mind, I believe, by your, at that very instant, drawing away the hand I was about to kiss, and yielding me the other, saying, ‘There, that one, if you will, you silly child!’ for I thought it an odd whim at the time; but your very oddities were dear to me then, as they are now.” As she spoke, she raised his right hand, which she had unlocked, to her lips, but he drew it swiftly away, almost rudely, and strode across the room with an unstea dy step, leaning head and arm upon the mantel shelf, with a suppressed groan. Sick and faint, for a single instant, felt her heart, as if under the influence of a nameless horror; but the depths of her woman's nature were stirred, and in ano ther moment, she had knelt once more at his feet, embracing him with her whole strength, and pleading with such words of passionate energy, that when, at the close, she cried between fast-falling tears that would not be restrained, “You will break my heart if you leave me in this fearful doubt any longer, and do not tell me all and, after a brief pause, “Am I not your own, own wife ?” the demon within him was driven out at once and forever, and taking her as a child in his arms to a couch dose by, pressed her wildly and more close ly to his breast than he had even done the first evening to which she had referred, murmuring— “As God is my witness, and reads my \ inmost thoughts, I will hide nothing, noth- i ing, from you now, my true wife, my guar- ; dian angel!” “ I know,” he re-commenced, after a j painful silence, “that you long since learn ed many of these details; but that you may better appreciate those of which you ; are ignorant, I will leave nothing material unrelated, for otherwise I might inadver- , tently omit the portion most essential to , render the remainder clear. That I was a penniless orphan, and from boyhood adopt- j ed by my wealthy uncle, himself childless, j you well know ; and how that, although generous, and commonly reported of easy [ temper, the master trait of his character | was a hard, stern unforgivingness, when j once deeply offended, which was nursed in j no small degree by the passionate temper- . ament that had wrecked his hopes on the j .v. of marriage in his youth, and now lurked mouldering under the ashes of sixty years in his breast. He had lost his seat in ‘he Senate through the opposing influ ence of your father, and this, with the ac- i cidental flooding of one of his fields by the break ing of the latter’s reservoir-dam, which in his rage he ascribed to deliberate malice, was sufficient to breed a hatred that lasted, fed as it was, from time to time, by trifling events, to the very last hour of his exist ence. A day of unconcealed satisfaction was it for him, when lands, negroes, stock, were all swept from your family with scarce a warning, as if he foresaw and hug ged himself in the thought, that privation and anxieties hitherto unknown, would soon thin the household of his quondam | opponent, and leave you, a sole, frail blos som, upon the bush that had once with its thorns pricked his fingers. And when,on- , ly a year after, I stood in his library, en deavoring to win his consent to a union j with your sweet self, and showed that if ; his long animosity were not already buried in the grave, it might he even more worthi- i ly now, in a marriage in which two young j hearts had staked their all—his bristling gray eyebrows gathered slowly, porten- j tously, like a thunder-cloud, over the eyes j not yet deprived of their fire by age, and j scarce waiting to hear me to an end, he bid j me begone, mafrry a beggar, and be a beg gar myself. Then he bent over his wri- : ting table for full a minute, as if unaware ; of my continued presence; hut at the end i of that time, the rage seething and gather- j ing in his bosom burst forth with uncou- | trollable fury, and in the most galling words j his bitter tongue could utter, denounced - and cast me off forever. I could have j borne all this calmly—l did bear it calm- j ly; but when a vile thought flashed across his brain, and turning the torrent of his abuse from me, he poured upon your inno- ! cent head every term of shame your sex ! can suffer, 1 became beside myself; what , I said 1 cannot tell ; that’ I did nothing | criminal, I can only thank God—for we ■ were two madmen there together : and aj j madman in my choking passion I continu ! ed, until calmed and rendered at least in part reasonable, by your sympathy, ca ; resses, and comforting words. You did more ; you endeavored to convince me that 1 was wrong; that I owed a debt of grati j tude no mere harsh words should cancel; j and that the best and noblest course would | be to return, confess my culpability, and , promise no more to refer to a subject which had cost him so much apparent pain and mortification. I remeinbcvr that you rea j soned well, eloquently, after your own gen -1 tie fashion, for you spoke from the depth of a pure and God-loving heart, and that I listened with a strange, listless pleasure, during the re-action succeeding the late \ hurricane in my soul, but in no wise con vinced, for I argued to myself that even your forgiving spirit could not have survi ved a recital of the whole interview.— I Thus matters continued ten days or a fort ; night, at the end of which period, my pas sion had sufficiently cooled to allow the promptings of former gratitude and affec tion to be heard; besides, you had yielded to my entreaties, and become in very deed my wife, and, so far, I had nothing to risk; and thus yielding at last to your earnest wishes, I stood once more in the hall I had sworn, during my paroxysm, never to re enter. But startlingly ill news awaited me; my uncle was on his death-bed, in a third fit of apoplexy, and the physician who had but just quitted the house, had in formed the servants he could not exist two hours longer at the mo3t. At that awful moment, I forgave or forgot everything, flew up stairs, dismissed the nurse from his chamber, and throwing myself on my knees by the bedside, took his cold hand in both of mine, and gave way unrestrainedly to remorse and sorrow. While my proud na ture was thus bowed to the earth in peni tence, a motion of the bed-clothes drew my attention, and I saw that the dying man had partially revived, and with eyes wide open stared me in the face, but without re cognition. Presently he seemed to recall my features, and a distorted gleam of sat isfaction flushed his countenance, while mumbling a request twice or thrice, which f caught at last and obeyed, by searching in his private escrutoire and fetching him his will. Such appearing.to he his wish, I spread the scroll on the bed before him, and one hand being capable of motion, with tremulous, crooked finger, he desig nated a section, in which it was provided, that in case of my persisting in making you my wife, the entire ing a pittance of three hundred a year, ‘to keep me from the gallows’—a parenthesis showed—should pass into other hands. From the writing, my eyes returned to his face: the scoffing smile had gradually pass into n hidpnuA un-in of I laid him back on the pillows, closed the eyes and mocking mouth, and turning away, wept like a child. I was totally unman ned, so awful and unexpected did this ven geance, on the brink of eternity, for an un signed offence, appear. But the fit did not last long: what was the lifeless clay stretch ed a few feet from me, or his last injunc tion, induced as it was by motives almost I diabolical, compared with the mere thought of the wife of my bosom, and her happi ness and care. I had little time for reflec tion, and decided promptly : a faint smell of burnt leather from the fire-place, being all that remained, in a few moments, of the despotic injunction ot the late master of the house. I then rang the bell violently, summoned the nurse and servants, and having given the needful directions, retired to the library, the very room in which our last stormy interview had occurred. There I found two sealed letters addressed to me in my uncle’s hand: one had been written soon after his recovery from the first attack, which, it seemed, must have seized upon Him before I was well out of the house, brought on by excessive clioler. The con tents were very brief, merely informing me that he had made anew will, cutting me off, in favor of his sister's family, with a legacy of one hundred a year, and desiring not to see my face again ; this note, I af terwards learned, was ordered to be given me at the door, should I at any time make my appearance there. The second, dated after the second fit and while in expecta tion of a last, was designed to take the place of the other, for after repeating the contents of the first epistle but in some what milder language, it stated, that for sufficient reasons the writer had altered his mind and now left me again his whole estate, provided always I did not run coun ter to his known wishes, in which case the legacy (as 1 have already said) was in creased to three hundred ; and it was added below, probably to better convince me of the inutility of stubbornness, that the will referred to was at the time of writing, al ready in existence. Here then at the very moment I was congratulating myself on ; i having secured wealth to my wife—for [ you, you only, were in my thoughts—by what I considered well timed firmness and ; energy of action, my highest hopes were crushed and my mind thrown into a state of unforeseen doubt anil dismay. As to having destroyed, apparently, mysoletitle to the property, I did not for a moment re gret the deed, for it would have been better to labor for daily bread, than become a millionnaire with the annexed proviso.— The most vexing feature of the business was that neither name nor initials of the conditional legatee were given, and my first intimation of my uncle’s possessing any other relative than myself, was con tained in these two letters: had I not known his stern adherence to truth when his pas sionate nature was not active, I would have regarded the threat as a mere designing fiction. In vain I searched drawers, desks, and deed-boxes; no corner was left unpried 1 into, and yet nowhere could 1 discover the will designated, and which I then conclud ed must have been placed in the hands of a solicitor or other third party, for sate keeping. Would to God the matter had rested here; Would to God 1 had possessed the courage to say to you without equivo cation or concealment; “My own wife, we are no longer rich even in hope—can you endure penury, aud love me still I” But no, a demon stood atmy elbow—.it was too much, I could not face the thought! How much easier, by a stroke of the pen to transform the cypher into an eight, in the old deed - 1 had found during my search, which had been signed iu full, eight years before, vesting the property of every sort solely and unconditionally in myosin per son. . “Certainly,”—urged the tempter — “you cannot doubt that this occurrence is providential; for see, the remainder of the date corresponds precisely to the present month and day, and to secure to your wife —mind, not to yourself, to your wife and future children—this princely fortune, all that is necessary for you to do, is to cross the middle of this little cypher, and cause it to be read, instead of “13th January, 1830,” —the “13th January, 1838,” thus placing out of reach of challenge, since by the contents of this first note, it is evident the deed, the production of which you dread, was signed not less than a week ago, whereas this in your grasp was—or will be —dated only three days since !” “ And this,” cried the speaker, with a burst of no longer controllable grief, “was the will through which I inherited; and why I drew back my hand from your in nocent lips.” “My husband—my poor, poor, erring husband !”—was all the listener could ut- L V. _ . V . .U- l % .L 4V * him with a wild love iu her eyes which said without speech :—I am yours— yours’ Though you break my heart, yet will 1 love you forever! CHAPTER SECOND. When they were both somewhat calmer, the narrative was resumed : “There was a circumstance which es caped my notice, trivial at first sight, hut daily growing in magnitude, and daily, hourly, haunting me wherever I might turn. After the will had been duly ad ministered—the conditional heir, strange to say, neither appearing nor disputing in any manner the validity of my claim—l casu-’ ally learned, from one of the old servants, that my uncle had lain wholly insensible for four days preceding his death, with the exception of the brief moment of conscious ness, of which no one knew hut myself. When you recollect that my testament was dated only three days before his end, you can understand the difficulty I found in preserving any thing approaching a calm demeanor, while I asked: ‘Was any one with him from the first of this final at tack ?’ ” “ Yes—the physician : the nurse came before he left, however.” “Are you quite sure he did not revive once during the whole fit!” “ Quite sure, for the nurse never left the room, sleeping by the fire in an easy chair; and it was her statement he quoted.” A fearful game! But it was too late, now, to retract. I trembled tothink of the consequences, had the nurse been present at the reading of the testament, or had the family physician, who was, detected the inconsistency. And I, all. the while, had sat listening calmly, even self-triumphant !y, while the crisis drew near, and passed without my knowledge ; when a half do zen words from the mouth of one of the auditors, —“Why, how is this? my pa tient was surely insensible three days ago, which was the thirteenth of the month !” would have fallen like a thunderbolt among us, and opened all eyes to the forgery. It was almost miraculous! yes, a devil’s mi racle ! but I breathed freely again. But this sense of safety lasted not long: the deed still existed—was even recorded. What hindered any one, who might learn the circumstances of my uncle’s death— nay, what hindered the physician, or the nurse herself, from stumbling on the truth i sooner or later—to-day, or to-morrow, or years hence ? It was of no avail to at tempt to reason myself into the improba bility of the thing: at every step, at every ! turn, I was confronted by the same resist- ’ | less threat. At last, I grew desperate : at! ! least, 1 said, if I am to be despoiled of both | ; riches and reputation, at some day, 1 will i not have it, to reproach myself with, that 1 failed to enjoy the former while in my i [lower, even if the blow falls the next hour; and, with this worse than specious reasoning, I plunged headlong into the most boundless extravagance. It was ea sy to persuade you that our wealth was j more princely than it really was, and to hide your unsuspicious happiness, which stung me like a wrong, from my eyes, by surrouuding you with every costly luxury heart could desire : and even when no mean fortune fell into your hands, through the dyiug caprice of a distant ‘•ousin, who had not deigned to notice you during pov erty, I made you promise to scarce touch even the interest, (‘as yet ,’ 1 said, ambigu ously,) but to rely, as hitherto, upon my resources ; and, in order to cuhance to tbe utmost your estimate of our income, and so increase your expenditure, I requested you to settle all bills, large or small, and took care that you should never need rea dy money for that purpose. But this could not continue forever : I grew weary of endless frivolity; 1 was sick of being courted, and flattered, and prated of as the wealthiest planter iu the South, and the dread of detection and dis grace, which had dogged my steps through out, began slowly to take the form of a morbid wish that the drama would end at last. It was this growing desire that pre pared me for the reaction which was to follow. I was recovering from the fever contracted in riding from plantation to plan tation, at midsummer, which had reduced me to the veige of death : my usually as sumed flow of spirits was quite gone; 1 was feeble, listless, aud outwardly quiet— but my mind, never calm, was Worrying as actively as ever at the old doubl,—“ Will it be found out, and when ? To-day, in a year, and how I” By little and little, it occurred to me that my thoughts were drifting from their usu al channels—that fresh suggestions were opening to view; for I felt, as is frequent ly the case with invalids, a sense of isola tion irom my reasoning powers, as if ray mind pondered and designed, independent of my more corporeal will. Then 1 weighed these suggestions, as would an umpire in any dispute; and their very novelty, added to a latent good to be attained, which might ultimately, I fancied, even cancel my crime, gained the day. “Come, you have tried the experiment fairly,” argued the voice within; “ your ill-got riches have brought you no pleasure, but bitter ness and terror from hour to hour. It is not too late; undo, to the best of your ability, what you have already done, and be prepared when the true heirs do appear— as, be assured, at some day they will—to restore all as it was when you committed the indiscretion of transforming a cypher into a figure of eight; and thus you may, it is possible, escape further punishment, at least in this world.” But how—how can such results lie at- 1 tained in time? Not by economy: for, allowing that to be an agent sufficiently active, I cannot consent to live like a beg gar again ; besides, to economise, it would be necessary to confess all to my wife, and j that “Nay,’’ -interrupted the mentor in my breast, “not so fast! 1 do not require you to give up ordinary luxuries—only to abstain from purchases made with the sole intent of scattering the inojiey, which might otherwise, at a future day, fall into rightful hands. Listen : have you never heard of fortunes acquired by single tick ets iu the lottery—perhaps purchased with the entire hoard of some miserable pauper? If one has been known (and it is no new tale) to bring to the holder vast gain, how much greater will your chances of success be, who can buy at once a dozen numbers in as many different lotteries, and all of the highest denominations!” What a thought! I was blind—an idiot, not to have extorted it from my slow brain before! Yes, I cried, l will recover all I have squandered so foolishly; I will live as suits a man of wealth henceforth ; but no more reckless extravagance; and when, in the end, I am enabled to restore the estate as I received it, to the condition al legatee, (whomever he may prove,) I will live and die an honest man, content with the moderate fortune, over and above, I will acquire by my luck: for Heaven cannot refuse success, nay, even reward, to such praiseworthy endeavors ! I had scarce patience to await the return of strength, which would suffer me in per son to carry my scheme into effect —this : new and crafty self-deception. But, in ! one essential particular, my hopes were ; destined to be frustrated. There was no i difficulty in buying*: 1 bought tickets from every office within reach, tried every hack neyed method of falling upon the lucky number, hut all with the same result: blank, blank, or a pittance scarcely cover ing the investment, but which, neverthe less, was sufficient to encourage me toper severe. One evening, as I was leaving one of these establishments of leniently re garded gambling, with a freshly purchased package in my hand, 1 encountered one of my gay associates passing. “ Soh, soh !” he exclaimed, half jeering ly, and smiling; “this, then, is the estate from which our wealthiest of planters de rives his income ! Why, man, you must be q wizzard—a real Cornelius Agrippa—- toalways recognize the luckiest numbers.” I was a little nettled at being discovered in the act, aud answered somewhat shortly : “If I possessed a fraction of the acute ness of Agrippa, I would have ruined the offices long ago, or never bought at all!” “ What 1 ” he cried, surprised at my man ner; “ you , of all men, in want of money ! Ah, perhaps some momentary embarrass ment, a debt of honor to meet, which had been forgotten ?” “ No!” I returned, to escape liis tioning, “ I have abundance of cash at hand, hut you have heard how wealth breeds the desire of more : perhaps, I am tired of buying unmeaning trifles, and would like to try if a fortune or two may not be obtained in the market, as well as other commodities!” “ Ha! ha! I see into you, now. But, my dear fellow, is it possible that you, a man of sense and refinement, can have be come such an old woman, (pardon the ex pression,) as to place a particle of faith in lotteries, and lucky numbers, and all that rigmarole 1 What is that you hold in your hand—a packet of tickets 1 l thought so. Here, give them to this old blind Kamts chatskan, or whatever he is, and his saga cious dog; they’ll make his fortune; they always do; and, in ten minutes, I’ll intro duce you where a man, with your capital, can command Fortune —mark you I —not sue her. at any hour of the night.” 1 was in no very fastidious mood, and easily upset any lurking scruples with the Jesuitical maxim of doing evil that good may result; and from that evening, a month ago, until the present, I have been a recognized frequenter of the principal “ hells” in town. I played from the begin-’ ning desperately; that is, my stakes were the largest laid upon the board, and, as is customary, at first won, then lost, then won again, and, finally, have lost uninter ruptedly ever since. The inherited lands I have been unable to touch, because they are, as you know, entailed ; but all else has been swept beyond recall, the negroes mortgaged, some even already sold, and the very house, in which we now are, only saved last night by my detection of the trick at cards, hy which it was fraudulent ly won. This evening, as usual, I return ed, but the affair of the preceding night had produced an ill-impression among the hawks, and the rumor had gone from mouth to mouth, that all my remaining property was entailed. In consequence of this silly statement, 1 found no one who would play but for ready money; and money I had none, for, in my mad reckless ness, I had gone with the one great stake in hand—the house that sheltered the head of my trusting wife! I was chafed and angered, but one could not quarrel with a man because he declined to game; and at last I found an acquaintance, who had been present at one of our balls, and readi ly advanced about a tenth of their va'ue on various modern paintings I recalled to his recollection, as it was impossible they could be entailed. This sum 1 divided in to two portions; risked the first; —bravo 1 won! A golden heap was before me,’ to which 1 added the second: ha!—curse on the luck—lost 1 But stay ; fortune at Inst smiles; Plutus is returning home; so it runs ; next time I will win again! Unfortunately, not a dollar remained to me. I hurried from one of my friends to another, in the crowded room, showing them how little it was necessary to have to regain my own entire. Yes, all saw it— saw it clearly; but most unhappily, at that precise moment, their purses were quite empty; no one could regret it more than themselves! I was delirious; 1 raved : the fury of intoxication is childish, corn-* pared with that induced by despair at a gaming table : a sudden thought crossed my heated brain ; no one regarded me, for an eager concourse had gathered around two disputants in a corner. In another moment, I was in the deserted street, hat-’ less, and with a sword-cane, bared, in my right hand. The sudden transition from the splendor within doors blinded me at first, but the sharp cold, instead of dimin ishing, only increased my excitement; and, scarce pausing an instant, I pursued the sound of footsteps, which rang on the frozen ground not many yards distant. The figure halted at my call, and showed a man apparently passed middle age, but erect, sturdy, and not inclined to deliver his purse without a struggle. With his walk ing-cane he guarded his breast, threatened