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TERMS.si PEIIANNTM Df ABVANGE. SECOND YEAR. NO. 21....WH0LE N0.74’ i SOWMBH Mil mmAi o ,..,,,,mwm to umam, rm mts mb ssimcss. mb to smeiij. ismwsMß. For Richards* Weekly Gazette. GIFTS TO THE POOII. BY CAROLINE HOWARD. And Mordecai wrote all these things, and sent letters unto all the Jews that were in the provin ces of the king Ahasurus, both nigh and far, To stablish this among them, that they shoul 1 keep the fourteenth day of the month Adar, and the fifteenth day of the same, yearly, As the days wherein the Jews rested from their enemies, and the month which was turned unto them from sorrow to joy, and from mourning un to a good day : that they should make them days of feasting and joy, and of sending portions one to another and gifts to the poor. Esther, ix : 20, 21,22. ’T\v;is in the past, far in the by gone ages, When in the book of time the leaves were few, When deeds of mercy on its written pages, Half told the dreaming soul that Heaven was true. ’Twas in the joy-time of the Hebrew nation, When Esther ruled the king who ruled the lard, That from her high and splendour-lighted station iShc oped her lips and spoke her high command. At her sweet voice the foes of Israel trembled, And at her hid the fiercest warriors lied, Hainan no more his purpose base dissembled, For all his race were numbered with the dead. Twas in the month of Adar, fled was sadness, Still was the carnage cry, the war was o’er, And the peace trump rung out with thrilling glad- , ness, Peace to the \smd, gifts to the friendless poor. Oh ! ’tis a fearful l ower when love and beauty, Linked hand in band the manly breast assail, When the wrapped heart forgets and leaves its duty, When the high thought and earnest purpose fail. Put when these gifts can tempt to gifts of power, Os power to check the torrent tide of wrong, ’Tis God's own hand that gives the precious dower. From Him they spring, and to Himself belong. Gifts to the poor ! the sweet and truthful token, The foretaste of a deed of after time, The link which binds the bread by Jesus broken. With this good action, earnest and sublime. Can j’ou not see them, poor and lon° and friendless. Crushed and heart broken ’neath a load of woe, .Smiling with joy and blissful feeling endless Weeping sweet tears the ha] py only know T See the pale mother, pale with grief rfnd sighing, Wake fri •in a dream of agony and death, Clasp to her arms her child with hunger dying, And welcome back his almost parted breath. Gifts to the poor have raised her downcast spirit, Fit the hope-fire within her tearful eyes, 1 aught her that life and love she will inherit, I*or God is smiling ou her through the skies. See the meek maiden with her hands so slender, Toiling for bread to bush the childrens’ cry, On her young cheek, so thin and white and tender, Only the pale rose and the lily lie. Never harsh words, and never loud complaining Come from her lip- so fit for love's soft tone, But in her soul a cherished image reigning, .Speaks the sad truth that she is loved and lone. Hush ! ’tis the note of harp and timbrel sounding. See her sweet face is downcast now no more, Near his protecting heart her heart is bounding And in eaoh other’s arms they are not poor. And the worn father from his toil upspringing, Trembles with ecstacy unknown before, for in his ear the blessed words are ringing, Help to the working man ! gifts to the poor ! Then let the poor be suffering round us never ! Let every day record some fruitful deed, Let it be Adar, month of gifts, forever, •And (od will help us in our time of need. DISSEMBLANCE. BY ALTON. The mask and mantle many wear from pride. Oh what a mockery is life! How cheerfully we smile, Ah hough the sorrowed heart is steepod lu bitterness the while! And it is well—for ne’er should wo A pothers heart oppress, By meting out in piteous tone The tale of our distress : E’er mindful that a brother's heart Mourns not with sorrow less, Kinee, ah, too true, each bosom hath Its share of bitterness. And, could wo but uplift the veil, And all the truth reveal, Jlow oft we’d start to find sweet smiles A vale of tears conceal! For where misfortune wings her dart, And wounds the hapless soul, There arc who from the eye permit No bitter tear to roll; But learn the art of arts to crush The anguished sigh with guile, And thus for every burning pang, Express the sweetest smile ! And proudly scorn to own the wound, Or heave the struggling sigh, But. mid the gay and enre’es* crowd, Smile with the brightest eye ! While, inwardly, they sneer to hear The would be wise remark, ‘Thrice happy one !’ who little dream That all ivithin is dark ! Yet these have moments when the soul, With disappointment crushed, Unawed by heaven, m'ght dare to wish The heart in death were hushed : For what is life that man should fear To “ sleep the sleep of death,” If, oh! to cheer its rugged path, No end in view he hath ! But, ere bright manhood scarce hath set Its stamp upon the brow, To see by fortune’s cruel band. Each cherished hope laid low ; And, yielding to the chains of fato Wherin we’ve wrestling bowed, To feel that calmness of despair— The spirits death-like shroud. For Richards’ Weekly Gazette. WOMAN k WOMAN’S LORD. BY A LADY OF GEORGIA. CHATTER VIII. On one of the brightest mornings of ear ly Autumn, a party of pleasure-seekers fill carriages, from which, as they go whirling along, resounds the mirthful laugh of the gay and young. Horses, mounted by mer ry riders, most of whom intend to pursue the deer near Tallulah, give to the whole scene a most picturesque and exhilarating appearance. The hounds, leashed together in pairs, look as if they too expect a great deal of fun, and a great deal of success, when once they arrive at the scene of in terest, and are released from their loving bonds. There are Neptune, and Pluto, and Pan, as well as Venus and Ceres, and Mi nerva, among them —not forgetting Jupiter himself—though Juno having been lost in some previous hunt, he has become a “grave and noble senior,” who may be trusted with freedom. Ned Oliver and Charles Elliston were among the hunters. We were certainly in hopes of seeing Charles in Mr. Carey’s carriage, for there is something about Char lotte and himself that seems to be conge nial; but we can never have things as we desire. lie had mingled freely in the soci ety around the village, and Mr. Carey's family had received most of his attentions. Yet the air was too lofty around himself and Charlotte, to admit the idea of their being in love. They say “the course of true love never did run smooth,” which may he true, for aught I know; but, fair and gentle young reader, please remember, that because the course of an early fancy may he checked, does not always prove it to be true. Remember, it is natural to the human mind, to shew itself strong in op position. Like the rebel-flower, it thrives hy being trodden on. And who can ealeu-’ late the number of unhappy marriages that I Lave been made in a spirit of opposition.! Maiden, scan your own mind, and if you find there a pure and true nucleus around which to build your hopes, though small it may be, the whole of your existence shall be leavened with its purity and truth. The party linger for a half-hour at the ocean-view. On the right is the extensive prospect which gives a name to the spot. As far as the eye can reach, is one un bounded expanse of country. The Tallu lah, in its winding course, seems to have welcomed the spirit of peace to its bosom, for the waters that have dashed down its impetuous torrents, seem, in the far dis tance, to be taking their quiet course to the Savannah. Nearer, interminable forests meet the eye : but as the vision approaches the horizon, that misty, hazy appearance is seen in undefined extent, which conveys the idea most perfectly of a distant ocean. You may see one rugged peak, like a rock, rising in the midst of the billows, which is the Stone Mountain of DeKalb. On the left hand side of the road, which runs on a ridge all thewwar,y r , and is here very narrow, we behold a scene of more striking fea tures, but less extent. It is bounded hy a range of mountains, which tower in majes ty along the horizon. Small mountain hills, like children, seem nestling in an eastern nook, while to the west, there seems an outlet to the world, guarded at the portal by the towering Yonah. The road continues on the ridge till it reaches I the fearful chasm, from which, if one chooses, he may take a leap of twelve I hundred feet. It soon resounded again ! with the merry laugh, and, without de scending to particulars, they formed cer | tainly a happy, light-hearted party'. Is it not pleasant to see the joyous and glad of heart holding sweet intercourse, on the path of life; and is it not elevating to the soul, to hear inanimate nature praising | with its ceaseless murmurs the hand that j fashioned it ? Unconscious as it is, itcon j veys to the mind an idea of knowledge and i of life; else, why would the ancients, who took their intuitions for divine teachings, j have peopled the fields and floods—the ; running streams—the gurgling fountains— and the very trees themselves, that spring up and pass away again into the bosom of , our common mother—with objects of life —imaginary certainly, but, though imagi j nary, ever conveying to their minds a ! world of thought. Calm and majestic repose, is the most striking feature of the present scene.— Large undulating hills rise in succession before the eye, till lost to view by the in tersecting trunks and branches of a mag nificent forest. No under-brush encumbers the ground, hut here and there you may see the dried flowers of summer, that have “wasted their sweetness,” mingled with the richer, though coarser blooms of Au tumn flowers. These rise in myriads a round, and form a pleasing ground-work for the waving branches far overhead. Beauty and youth wander here in gay groups, gathering bouquets of wild flowers, and engaging in those mirthful sallies which seem spontaneous to the youthful mind.— Like the flowers which fill the hands, and are twined in the tressesof beautiful maid ens, they speak of the beauties and the joys of life. The music of Nature, which has re sounded for ages from the roaring Tempes ta, rises up and surrounds them, as they wend their way towards the narrow path that winds down the chasm, to the brink of the rushing Tallulah. Worthy an artist’s pencil were those tableaux vivant , which might he seen, one after the other, as they passed beneath the jutting rock. This rock recalled to mind the sounding-board of an old-fashioned pulpit, looking as if it was rudely thrust into the side of the chasm, a few feet overhead ; and the path immediately under it being rather more lev el, it seemed to be a resting-place, designed by Nature for wearied travellers. Emma Carey, with her slight but sym metrical figure enveloped in a closely-fit ting green habit—her rich flaxen hair fall ing in silken luxuriance upon her shoul ders—her gipsey hat, worn rather on the side of her head, as she went on gaily con versing with one young gentleman and then another, seemed the very personifica tion of coquetry. She had compromised with Mrs. Oliver and her own conscience, that this should be the last day of her pow er—and she seemed indeed to be enjoying it, for there were several gentlemen hover ing around her. Charlotts Carey and her lively cousin George, were the last w ho passed the spot. George Geflries was an exquisite of the first order. His figure, rather small and light, had all the charms which fashion and art could throw around it. His head was like an Adonis—the contour bespeak ing Nature’s most perfect mould ; and yet, a’though the brow was large and noble, it seemed to indicate beauty rather than pow er. To the eye of a phrenologist, his mirthfulness was beautifully rounded, and spoke its true language in the lingering smiles that were ever playing around a mouth seemingly made for either the light sallies of mirth, or the lisping accents of a dandy. Charlotte was not fond of his so ciety, and yet with pertinacious persever ance, he always sought it. lie seemed to delight himself, not in congenialities, but opposites. “ You and I are both disappointed to day, Cousin Charlotte. Your beau and my little maiden are neither of them here for us to flirt with.” “ I beg you will not class me with 5-011 r self,” said Charlotte. 11 1 have no idea of flirting w ith any one, and particularly such a one as Mr. Elliston, for I suppose it is to him you allude.” “ Ah, I remember,” said George : “he is very grave and solemn. Do you know, Charlotte, I thought him very angry with my nonsense, the day we saw him at the mill in Savannah ?” “ Why should he have been so ?” said Charlotte. “Because he was deeply interested in you ; in plain terms, he was in love,” said George. “George, you are incorrigible. You not only flirt with the girls yourself, but you make all kinds of experiments with the reason and feelings of others, for your own amusement. You certainly do not suppose f believe what you say I” said Charlotte. “I certainly do,” said George, “for if ever eyes spoke love, his did ; and if ever man was jealous, he was so that day.” “You were very kind, indeed, my con siderate cousin,” said Charlotte. “Why did you trouble yourself to make him un comfortable ?” “ Because I was afraid, my dear cousin, your heart would become entangled with a poor mechanic—for although he was hand some, and smart, and genteel, I could not bear the idea of my proud and noble Char lotte becoming a .nilleress, and entering in to the study of pistons, and valves, and all the etceteras of mechanical science.” Charlotte turned upon him a look of su preme contempt, as she replied— “No doubt, George Geflries, you would prefer being a millionaire, that you might revel in luxuries, and dwell in the midst of perfumes; but I beg you now, once more, not to judge me by yourself.” “ Well now, cousin, you talk very grave ly,” said George. “ 1 should like to know what you prefer?” “I prefer a noble principle, such as ac tuated Mr. Elliston to break through the 1 upper crust’ of society, and seek to lead a useful, rather than a frivolous life.” By this lime, they had reached the foot of the chasm, and stood on the flat rock around w hich the Tallulah rushes in wild fury, and takesadouble leap into the abyss below. The top of the rock is nearly on a j level with the river, /or it washes over a ‘ part of it. tempting the thirsty and tired ad- | venturer to partake oi the cooling waters. The other side of the chasm rises in unap proachable grandeur before them. The “ Fairy’s Cave,” with its mysterious won ders, yet unknown and undiscovered, is seen to the right, far upon the face of the mighty rock. The light and shade play ing alternately from one fissure toanother. give an appearance of life and animation to the scene, while, on the veiy verge of the chasm, and in bold relief against the deep blue sky, may be seen a green fringe of graceful pin“s, -waving to the breeze. They stood for a moment in wrapt atten tion ;. hut as George’s subliinest ideas could never compensate him for having to be si lent he soon broke through the spell. “Come, Cousin Charlotte, let me assist you along the narrow path to the foot of the fall.” “ No, George, you may go alone,” said Charlotte. “We are not congenial spirits —besides, I always loved this spot the best of all, and will remain here till you return.” So saying, she took off her bonnet, fan ning herself with it; and as she put her long dark curls aside from her beautiful face, she sighed. She then reached a large leaf near by, doubled it up like a cup, and stooping, drank from the stream. Strange coincidences often occur, and from their in fluence on the destinies of men, they seem heaven-directed. No doubt, often, amid the silence and the grandeur of Nature, the deer had quenched their thirst, and cooled themselves in the water, that passed clear and cool, and almost free from ripple, over the rock—not comprehending the danger, hut taiurht by the strong instincts of nature to avoid the dangerous plunge. The dis tant sound of the hounds in chase, had been heard, floating in prolonged melody along the chasm, reverberating from side to side—and mingled as it was with the falling waters, and the merry voices of the gay party below, it seemed as if all Nature was animated with life. A frightened deer came bounding in short leaps down the steep path, seeking safety from his pursuers hy rushing on a more terrible danger. When within a few feet of the rock, he was startled, from some cause, and made one bound into the fatal torrent. Brushing violently by Charlotte, while stooping to drink, she lost her bal ance, and was thrown forward to the verv edge of the rock. In one moment, all aid would have been useless; hut a friendly hand was near to rescue and to save.— Charles Elliston had wandered away from the hunters, desiring to take an early view of the Falls. lie had been examining the rock, and the winding paths at the foot of the chasm, and for several moments had been an admiring spectator of the beauti ful, the dignified, the proud Charlotte Ca rey. lie had even heard thesigh, and per haps wished that it was for him. He rush ed forward with uncontrollable feeling, and lifting Charlotte from her dangerous posi tion, found that she was insensible. Her hair now hung in wet, massive waves, from her head, as it rested in unconscious depen dence in his arms. £hc was deathly pale, hut her eye-lids, with their long dark fringe resting on her lovely cheek, quivered with . returning life, and a gentle rosy tint is seen I coming up from the citadel of the heart. Elliston for those few moments watched ’ her with intense interest, and now, that he . sees these signs, exclaims with emotion— “ My God, I thank thee.” The voice seemed to speak to heart and ear both, for she exclaims —“ Elliston, you have saved me.” The sweet murmur of her voice vibrated on his heart and ear. She rose and stood before him—looking earnestly, and with devotion beaming from Iter eyes, she con tinued— “ How can 1 ever repay you ?” “ With your love, Charlotte,” said Ellia ton. She moved nearer to him, laid her head again upon that shoulder where it had un consciously reposed, and said— “ Elliston, I love you with my heart and soul.” “ Then, dear Charlotte, we are one,” said Elliston, as he drew her to him. “My heart has long been yours.” We leave them to their explanations of the past—the dear confidences of loving hearts. Let not the materialist or utilita rian deride ibis heaven-born visitant of the human breast—this sweet consoler on life’s weary way. Let not the rani? weed of en vy fill the breast of those who feel not — who love not—who have had the gentle emotion crushed in its early promise, with in their own hearts, and have none to whis per in their ear, “How blessed it is to love thee.” Oh ! barren waste ol human suffering! with no star to cheer, no sun to illumine thy dark hours’. Where is thy hope ? Is it to be found in the solitary musings of thy mind? Or in vain wishes for those hours that have fled away with quick wings, perhaps never to return ? Listen, intelligent soul, to the words of soberness and truth. That benevolence which God has endowed thee with, stands like a watch maiden on the fiont portal of thy mind.— She opens the door, and arouses the sweet sympathies of thy nature. Go forth, then, to do good. Bless the footsteps of others, and the blessings of Heaven will descend like honey-dew around thy own path. When the party returned. Charlotte had regained her composure, and there was an added charm, undefinable and tender, about her. It was the charm of a confiding soul. Their attention had been arrested by the terrible dash of the deer through the foam ing torrent —they had seen him struggle in ‘ the deep basin, and then sink to rise no more, from beneath the immense pressure of the upward waters. This had consum- j ed some time; but little did they know that ! Charlotte had nearly shared the same fate, j Less did they suspect the source of her safe- : ty.or the most precious “eclaircissement” of | those happy moments. Emma’s beautiful face was pale with emotion, when she heard what her sister had escaped; and in the gratitude of hei j heart, she took Elliston’s hands between her own small palms, declaring with ear nestness she would “ ever love him, for i saving her sweet sister.” They then proceeded up the steep path, i Elliston supporting Charlotte in her ascent, i Their voices were more grave and modu- ; lated than they were; and excepting an occasional lisping criticism from George, on j Charlotte’s appearance, there was nothing ! in any way calculated to restore their for-. mer mirthfulness. “ Cousin Emma, it should have been you instead of Charlotte, to experience such an adventure,” said George. “ She is so dig nified, she does not appreciate it.” “ And why, cousin George, should you suppose I would appreciate it any more j than Charlotte ?” said Emma. “Oh, you would have looked so inter esting in your green habit; and with your flaxen hair dripping with water, you might imagine yourself mistress of all hearts, both by sea and by land,” said George. “What comfort would that give me,” said Emma, “if I could not realize that it was indeed sd ?” “ I concluded that fact was well estab lished in your mind already. Your flatter ers tell you so,” said George. “ Do you suppose I expect to find a true heart among those who flatter me ?” said Emma. “ Then you ought to feel that I have a true one,” said George, “ for I never flatter you.” Emma was silent, for her lip trem bled with strange emotion. George con tinued—“l have loved you too well to flatter you.” Emma responded—-“And I have loved you for not doing it, cousin Geofge. “ My loVe for you, fcmmn. is deep and sincere,” said George. Emma had only lime to whimper, “Mine also,” when they reached the end of the narrow path, at the top of the chasm. There they were met by’ the hunters, with their horses, hounds and deer It was a lively finale to a successful hunt. Sev eral deer were slung across the horses of the fortunate hunters, who were each giv ing an account to someone of his own shot. Hounds, in various positions, were scattered throughout the scene. Some were lying on the greensward, with their long tongues hanging out of their mouths, and panting from the fatigues of the chase. Others were walking around the horses, lapping the blood, as it dripped from the wounded animals. Others, again, were in crouching observation of all that passed around them. But at the farthest verge of the company from the chasm, stood an in dividual, around whom were clustered sev eral of the finest-looking hounds. They would leap upon him, so that, at times, he was nearly hid from view. You might hear him say, “Down, sir,’’ to one, and to another more impudent than the rest, “Oh yes, sir; you are too eager, sir.’’ This was no other than Jimmy Day, of Lynch law memory, who had been actually fright ened into sobriety, In the meantime, Charles Elliston and Charlotte have reached the parly. She has been congratulated on her fortunate es cape, and he jested abundantly about his successful hunt, accompanied with many sly winks from his jovial friends; one more bold and reckless than the rest, even ven tured a pun on the word deer. Charlotte still leans on his arm, as they pass through the crowd on their way to the “Tallulah 110101.” They approach Jimmy Day, and as he sees them, he lifts his fur cap respectfully from his head. “Well, Mr. Day,” said Charles Elliston, “do you still think it better to be drunk than sober v ’ “Oh no, sir—there's no mistake, sir— it’s better to be sober, sir,” said Jimmy. “ How have you come to that conclu sion, Mr. Day ?” said Charles Elliston. “Well, sir, I’ll tell you how it was, sir. One night I was in Clarksville; happy as a lord, sir. Some of those secret police men, (1 know they did it, sir,) took and blacked me as black as a nigger, sir.— When I was trotting home, sir, they caught me, tied me, and read a long paper about some man who was drunk and killed his wife, till at last, fool-like, I thought it was me that did it, sir. f can't tell you what they did to me, sir; but from that night, Jimmy Day has been a sober man, sir.” “How did you find your wife when yon got home, Mr. Day V’ said Charlotte. “Well, madam, y'ou see I fell down on the floor when I got there, insensible-like, and didn’t know if Peggy wasaliveor not. But when 1 came to again, Peggy was over me, with her same good face, and had wa ter and soap ready to wash me clean.” “ Why did you think it was you that had killed your wife V’ said Charlotte. “Because, madam, I have been the very devil to my wife since I married her; and I thought may be I had killed her sure enough, by beating her too hard.” “Is it possible you ever beat your wife 1” said Charlotte, and she looked indignantly at the little insignificant man. “Yes, madam. When the fire was in me. I hated her because she was too good and too quiet: and when the fire died out, I was too foolish to love her; but Peggy was always ready with a kind word and something nourishing.” “Did it not make yon sorry then, to think you had treated her so cruelly I” said Charlotte. “ Too stupid, madam—too stupid to feel. •Twas that fright, madam, that shook me wide awake, so that I could see my own dear wife and child.” “Do you get along well now 1” said Charlotte. “Oh yes, madam. I make as good shoes as ever, and Peggy is as happy as a bird, sewing for Mrs. Ohvcr all day long,” said Jimmy. “ You ought to join the Sons of Tempe rance now, Mr. Day,” said Charles. “1 don’t feel strong enough yet, sir, to put on a uniform and march with them; but the marshals have got me hard and fast, sir. I must either do without it four years, or go to the Penitentiary, sir.” “If you are strong in principle and in tentions. the Sons of Temperance will re ceive you as a life member, which would be much better than yielding to force for four years,” said Charles Elliston. “ This is an instance where brute force is necessary in controlling a brutish will,” : said Charles to Charlotte; as they passed ■on. “How humbling it is to us lords, : Charlotte, to see such specimens of hu manity.” “ What do you think ol a woman,” said | Charlotte, “ whose love could shine upon such an object 1” “ Woman's love is always a blessing, dear girl,” said Charles. “Like the gem which may lie seen in the night, it is most visible in the dark hours of adversity and j gloom. I should say that she might he I blessed in giving, but in receiving, doubly | cursed.” i “How could she possibly he blessed in j loving such a man J” said Charlotte. “To love him, she endowed him with | imaginary virtues,” said Charles. “ She i considers them obscured, not destroyed, by I this beastly passion. She hopes yet to see i them shine forth and bless her, and in the meantime, feels the satisfaction of nourish ing and cherishing them into anew e.xist ■ ence.” “ Well, then,” said Charlotte, “ l can easily conceive that she would be doubly cursed in receiving, for she will receive nothing but disappointment. Poor Peggy’s fate is the fate of too many of that unhap py class.” They extended their conversation, sug gesting remedies for these evils in society ; but as we have already intimated our opin- I ion in these pages, we leave them to con duct it as they list. What, Legislators of Georgia, can you do—what will you do—to elevate such rep resentatives of your sex as Jimmy Day J Will you continue them in a state of easy inquietude, with regard to makinga living! Will you allow them, like petty tyrants, to i command that their wives shall feed them, and clothe them, and give them drink J The eagle, to whose breast an arrow was wafted by a feather from his own wing, conveys an inadequate idea of the suffer ings of woman. Let it not be so—let not the breast which nourishes, receive fire in return for the gentlest offices of life—let not the hands labor, the heart throb in vain. Let not that “hope deferred, which maketh the heart sick,” like an ignis fatuus lead them to the grave of despair, CHAPTER IX. One short year had sufficed to brush the bloom from the ripe fruit of Genevra’s hap piness. With her whole soul she had con fided—with her whole heart she had devo tedly loved. Her mind, the stronghold of intelligent mortals, was soon to surrender to the power of an imperious will. Yea— what, in all the experiences of this world, is woman’s mind before one beloved ? Oh! the soft affections of the heart! how they smooth down the unevenness of life!— Look at the gentle, the placid surface of married life, and say, if you can, that there is not something holy and sacred in wo man'slove. Oh. woman! your love indeed disarms you of all strength. First you re sign luxuries —then superfluities—often even the comforts of life—then, last and greatest evil of all, you yield your mind a slave to a cringing selfishness. It exhausts even the sympathies of your nature; they are expended, and expended for one alone, till even the very “olive plants” that are clustering around you, are left without nourishment and support. Poor G^.ievra! you have yet no plants to nourish, no tender offspring to cheer your solitary hours! Even the yonthful asso ciations, the tender sympathies of child hood, are fast fading from your mind! We have prepared you—the peruser of these lines—for the denouement of our tale. Du pont had married, not to promote the hap piness of her he had taken to his bosom, but for his own aggrandizement. With a mind more wandering and wayward than the winds of heaven, he had an uncontrol lable ambition for power and influence. He was conscious of his own fascinating powers, and with it, was most sensibly conscious of the power of money. He now assiduously bent his mind to gaining an influence over men, since he had it in his power to claim so large art interest among the citizens of our State. He had looked forward to the extensive possessions of the Ellistons, with a determination to possess them through Genevra, and event ual lj', by them, to step into the highest honors of the State. Thus it is, we see men of all classes crowding around him. Hunting parties, dinner parties, boat-races, atti-act crowds of ihe higher classes of so ciety to the hospitable Island Cottage, while plans of improvement, pursued on an ex tensive Scale, gather around him men of the lower order. Where is Genevra. and what has she become, amid this rush of occupation ? She xvas there, a lovely, loving and confi ding Woman still ; but her loveliness was changed—her loving heart doubted—her confiding spirit was becoming waywarJ fn her lord’s uncertain smile. There was something less eaithly, hut more ethet.ally