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'?DX> the GEORGIA MIRROR, 13 PUBLISHED EVERT SATURDAY, By B. Gardner «fc J. I*. Bull, ( F-litors and Proprietors.) At THREE DOLLARS a year, if paid in advance, or FOUR DOLLARS, if uot paid until the end of the year. Advertisements will be conspicuously inserted at One Dollar per square, (15 lines or less,) the first, and 50 cents for each sub sequent insertion. All a tvertiseinsnts handed in for publi cation without « limitation, will be published till forbid, and charged accordingly. Sales of Land and Negroes by Execu tors, Ad liinistrators and Guardians, are re quired by law io be advertised in a public Gazette, sixty days previous to the day of sale. The sale of Personal property must be alver ise*’ in like manner forty days. Notice to Debtors aud Creditors of an estate must be published tony days. Notice that application will be made to the Court of Ordinary for leave to sell Land aud Negroes, must be published weekly lor four months. . , All Letters on business must ue post paid to insure attention. JOB PRINTING. (t ON NEC TED with the office of the J MLRROR, is a splendid assortment ol <£>.& And wc a re-enabled to excite all kind of Job cwork in the neatest manner and a* the short -Bto°«e°.^^r^ ~f every descriptiou wiki cousiaatly be kept on hand, such as Attachments, Justices’ Executions, do Summons, Jury do Subpoenas Clerk's he cognizance, Scicri Facias, Appearance llonds, Ca. Sa. Declaration —Debt, Declaration Sheriff Deeds. Tax Collector Executions. Blank Notes. Ac “\civ Ca n sii’ssio » H TITHE subscribers have as- T I sociated themselves to »*rtlßsethcr as COMMISSION MERCHANTS, under the name and style of „ «. JO JI.V !>• PUTS A to, Tl.cv have purchased the commodious WARF.-lIDUSE ami CLOSE MOKE, lately occupied by Jeroigan, J'* «“ where they will receive C 1 GOODS in store, and advance only upon cot t ui in their possession and under their con trol. Their charge, will be as customary. The business will be conducted by John D. Pitts. We solicit the patronage of the public, and are prepared to give Columbus l.ric«i fur e«uon. p piTTS- M. J. LAURENCE. Florence, Nov. 10 _ K jnrsTAun, FORWARDING AMD COMIVIiSSION MERCHANT, St. Joseph, Fla* January 10, 1839. DRY GOODS. r|A PIE subscriber having recently rcplen- L ished his stock, invites l»is custom ers and the public generally, to call and ex amine for themselves. His goods are new and well selected and he is offering them on as good terms as any in the market. His stock consists in part ol the followings Woolens, Snttinetts, A variety of Broad Clot Its, Circassians, Merinos, Bombazines and Bombazcttcs. Ked and White Flannel, A good assortment ol itemli/ allude Clothmg% A large supply ot 800 l’E and bHOEb, crntkmen’h AND ladifs SADDLES, BRIDLES AND MARTINGALS. Crockery , Hardware and Cutlery, With a variety of other articles suitable to the season, whicbhe takes great pleasure in offe ing to his customer* and the pub lic, at h anew store on the North side Cen ‘"aTl* 40 THO: GARDNER. NEW STORE. THE undersigned having associated them selves under the name and style of Harvey & Chastain, offer for sale anew and well selected Stock of Goods. Wares, nod Merchandize, from Charleston, viz. Broad Cloth, Sattinctts, Emernetls, Merino, Silk Lustring and Mattronas, French Muslin, do Ginghams, do Prints, Scotch Ginghams, r Anew assorted Stock of English and A merican Prints, Furniture I’ruits, Bonnets, Hats, Shoes, of all kinds, Bridles, Saddles and Martingales. Besides a variety of oth er articles too tedious to mention. Which will be sold low for cash or undoubted cre ditors. The pnblis are requested to call and ex amine fur thamselves. JOHN P. HARVEY. MORGAN CHASTAIN. March 26. 1839 50 rpilE SUBSCRIBERS have just re -F ceived a select lot of GROCERIES, which they offer on reasonable terms for Cash. n ROOD * 7^ LMAN - Doc 14 37 if THE MIRRA 18. PROSPECTUS OF THE SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER. ' I Mils is a monthly Magazine, devoted A chiefly to Literature, but occasion ally finding room also for articles tha fall within the scope of Sciencf. ; and uot pr essing an entire disdain of tasteful selections, though its matter has been, as it will con tinue to be, in the main, original. Party Politics, and controversial Theol ogy, as far as possible, are jealously exclu ded. They are sometimes so blended with discussions in literature or in moral sci ence, otherwise unobjectionable, as to gain admittance fur the sake of the more valu able matter to which they adhere: bit' whenever that happens they are incidental, only, not primary. They are dross, tolera ted onlv because it cannot well be severed from the sterling ore wherewith it is incor porated. Reviews and Critical Notices, occu py their due space in the work: and it is the Editor's aim that they should have a three fold tendency—to convey, in a condensed form, such valuable truths or interesting in cidents as are embodied in the wpfks re viewed, —to direct the readers attention to books that deserve to be read—and to warr him against wasting time and money upon that large number, which merit only to be burned. In this age of publications that by their variety and multitude, distract and o venvhelmn every undiscriminating student, impartial criticism, governed by the views just mentioned, is one of the most inesti mable and indispensable of auxiliaries to him who does wish to discriminate. Essays and Tales, having in view’ utility or amusement, or both; Historical sket ches —and Remixisences of events too min ute for History, yet elucidating it, and heightniug its interest—may be regarded as farming the staple of the work. And of indigenous Poetry, enough is publish ed—sometimes of no mean strain—to man ifest and to cultivate the growing poetical taste and talents of our country. The times appear, for several reasons, to demand such a work—and not one alone, but ttranyt The public mind is feverish and irritated still, from recent political strifes: The soft, assuasivc influence of Lit erature is needed, to allay that fever, and soothe that irritation. Vice and folly are rioting abroad :—They should bo driven by indignant rebuke, or lashed by ridicule, in to thcii lilting hauuts. Ignorance lords it over an immense proportion of our peo pic:—Every spring should be set in motion, to arouse the enlightened, and to increase th"ir number; so that the great enemy of popular government may no longer brood, like a portentous cloud, over the destinies of our country. Ynd to accomplish all these ends, what more powerful agent can be employed, than a periodical on the plan of the Messenger; if that plan be but car ried out in practice? The South peculiarly requires such an agent. In all the Union, south of Washing ton, there are but two Literary periodicals! Northward of that city, there arc probably at least twenty-five or thirty ! Is this con trast justified by the wealth, the leisure, the native talent, or the actual literary taste of the Southern people, compared with those of the Northern? No: for in wealth, talents and taste, we may justly claim, at least, an equality with our brethren md a domestic institution exclusively our own, beyoud all doubt, affords us, if we choose, twice the leisure for reading and writing which they enjoy. It was from a deep sense of thisfocfl? want that the word Southern was engrafted on this periodical: and not with any design to uourish local prejudices, or to advocate sup posed local inte osts. Far from any such thought, it is the Editor’s fervent wish, to see tne North aud Soutli bouud endearing ly together, forever, in the silken bands of mutual kindness and affection. Far from meditating hostility to the north, lie has al ready drawn, anil he hopes hereafter to draw, much of his choicest matter thence ; and happy indeed will he deem himself, should lus pages, by making each region know the other better contribute in any es sential degree to dispel the lowering clouds that now threaten the peace of both, and to brighten and strengthen the sacred tics of fraternal love. The Southern Literaty Messenger has now been inexistence four years—the pre sent No commencing the fifth volume. How far it has acted out the ideas here ut tered, is not for the Editor to say; he be lieves, however, that it falls not farther short of them, than human weakness usually makes Practice fall short of Theory. CONDITIONS. 1. The Southern Literary Messenger is published in monthly numbers, of 64 large supei royal octavo pages each, on the best of paper, and neatly covered, at $5 a year— payable in advance. 2. Or five new subscribers, by sending theii names and S2O at one time to the edi tor, will receive their copies for one year, for that sum, o’ at $4 for each. 3. The risk of loss of payments for sub scriptions, which have been properly com mitted to the mail, or to the hands of a post master, is assvm and by the editor 4. If a subsi r ption is not directed to be discontinued before the first number of the next volume has been published, it will be taken as a continuance for another year. Subscriptions must commence with the be ginning of th<* volume, and will not be ta ken for less than a year’s publication. 5. The mutual obligations of th«* publish er and subscriber, for the year, are fully in curred as soon as the first number of the volume is issued : and after that time, no discontinuance of a subscription will be permitted. Nor will a subscription be dis continued for any earlier notice, while yna thing thereon remains due, unless at the option of the Editor. t NOTICE. IN conformity to a Resolution of the Flor ence company, will be sold on the Ist Monday in July, twt> wharf lots. Terms made known on the day of sale. 11. \V. JERNIGAN, Agent April 15 1839. 1 H“ ENRY A. GARRETT ia the author ised agent, to take notes, receive cash and give receipts for any demands due the Male and Female Academies at Florence. May 6 4 THE TRUSTEES. @A» sT'ffW3 3* a3S©» Prospectus or the « SOUTHEtg 1% FARMER. AT tite earnest solicitation of a large number ol our fellow-citizens, we is sue a Prospectus for the cublication of a weekly paper to be styled THE SOUTH EI4N FARMER, aud devoted exclusively to ihe improvement ol Agriculture, and the general in teres 1 of the Planter. We are persuaded that a work of this character is essentially needed in this State; that its ad vantages are duly appreciated ; and that wc have only to commence the publication in order to be patronized ar.d sustained by the great body of the people. At the North, where works of thiskim! have long been fostered and cneouraped, Ap riculture is studied as a department of sci ence, and is therefore in a continued and rapid state of improvement; in consequent ol which, industry and economy are pro moted in all classes, and the substantial com forts of life are accumulating around every hearth. We, of the South, have always been su pinely neglieentof our best interests in ref wence to this subject, and it is now high time that we should shake off our lethargy, md our shameful dependant ; upon the North for every valuable sug{ ’stion in Ag riculture as well as Literature. Why is it, that the fresh and fertile fields if the South cannot vie in the quantity and quality of their productions, with the old and worn out fields of the North ? An answer may be found in the fact that Northern farmers de vote more attention aud study to the im provement of tie various branches of Agri culture. With the advantages in point of soil and climate, which our Southern States undoubtedly possess, we see no other reason for the paucity of their productions, than imperfection in the Agricultural system here in vogue. Agriculture may be considered both as an art aud a scicnre, depending upon innumer able sources for its perfection, and applica ble to every spot of earth Inhabited by man ; and no individual can acquire by his own ex perience alone, more than a limited degree of knowledge on the subject. A paper ol thekiudwepropo.se to establish, will offer great advantages for the interchange of ex perience and opinion, by which every indi vidual may possess himself of the combined observations of a great number, with whose interest his own is identified. By this means a general intelligence in relation to agricul tural subjects, and a competent knowledge of the principles that govern its operations will be diffused throughout the community, and thus afford increased stimulus and en couragement to all who are engaged in its puisuits. We conceive onr undertaking to be a laudable one, and therefore respectfully call upon the public for patronage and sup port. Communications from practical men, on practicable subjects, will, at all times find a place in the columns of the SOUTHERN FARMER, and from the interest which some of our intelligent friends have already evinced for its success, we hav» no doubt of being able to present to the public au inter esting and valuable paper. The publication will be commenced as soon as a sufficient number of subscribers are obtained to authorize it. TERMS. The Southern Farmer will bt published weekly, on fine paper, in quarto form, at the rate of Three Dollars per an num, } v/abte, inallcases, in advance. Sub scribeu to the Georgia Mirror will he en titled to receive »he Southern Farmer at Two Dollars per annum. Both papers will he sent co one address for Five Dollars. GARDNER & BULL. Flotence, Ga. May 17, 1839. LAND FOR SALE. THE Subscriber would sell the follow ing Lois of Land low for cash: No 68, 16tli dist. of Dooly. No. 229 do. do. No. 2, 15th (list, of Early. No. 511, 7th (list, of Irwin. No. 408, 28th (list of Early.' No. 130, 12th dist. of Dooly. Apply tothe Subscriber in Monroe coun ty Ga. JOHN PITMAN. May 15, 1839 6 3t ” ALABAMA LANDS FOR SALE. NIIALF 9 14 30 . S. half 4 14 30 N. half 8 14 30 N. half 7 14 30 S. half 7 14 30 S. half 6 14 30 S. half 11 14 20 S. half 20 18 28 S. half 34 19 28 N. half 36 19 29 S. half 36 19 29 W. half 29 16 26 N. half 6 16 30 E. half 21 22 26 E. half 22 13 28 N. half 33 20 26 S. half 32 18 28 W. half 26 15 24 S. half 29 16 25 E. half 2 18 25 Any of the above Lands will be sold on terms to suit purchasers, by application to John D. Pitts, Esq. Florence, Ga. or to the subscriber, at Macon. July 26 18 J. COWLES. STEWART SUPERIOR. COURT FEB. TERM 1839. Cain, & Pope ft ) Mark M. Fleming, & I Neil Robertson, vs. I Pill for JDiscoveiy, William Solomon, j Relief f) injunction. John Martin, John Chain, and Arthur A. Morgan. J IT appearing to this court, that John Chain, one of the defendants to the said bill of complaint, resides out of the limits of this State, On motion, of the Solicitor of complainant, ordered, that service be perfected, by pub lication once a month for four months, in one of the public gazettes of this State. A true extract from the minutes of Stew art Superior court, February term, 1839. ELIJAH PEARCE, Cleik April 1,1839. IPCDISESIYro LOVE AND THE LOTUS! from hafiz. When in the cast, the golden sun Has risen from his ocean bed. And o’er the earth, so lately dark, The glories of his brightness shed ; The lotus on the river’s breast. Lifts with deep love her dewy eye, And thanks him lot the life ar.d light He sheds upon her from the sky. ' At noon her loving gaze pursues His proud career untirerf, unturn'd ; And when at leugth he 6lowly sets, She watches every beam that buru’d Until the last is lost—apd then She downward bonds her gentle head, And leans in sadness o'er the stream, To weep till morn his brightness fled. So lady, do I turn to thee. Through every change in every hour ; Heedless of all on earh beside Save thy pure beauty’s thralling power; In thy loved sight I live—but when I lose the glory ol its ray, Like to the lotus, bowed and bruised. My spirit weeps itself away ; From the Louisville Journal. THE STOLEN KISS. TO ——, OF LOUISVILLE. That much 1 sinn’d, my girl, 1 own— But Oil your eyes did wink so, I thought the crime might pass for fun, But you it seems, didn’t think so. It was indeed a sad offence, And though you frown'd and chided, Who in the name of common sense. Would not have done as 1 did ? From the Sou'hern Literary Messenger. Tlie Poet’s J>csti»»y. By a Youßg Lady, a Native of Va. CHAPTER I. A cloud swept o‘er the lover’s face. As lie stood before me now ; A scornful smile was on hi 9 lip, A shadow on his brow. Two years of exile passed away, and Er nest Gordon was again in England. Time and change had wrought their usual work, and calmed the tumult of feeliugs which nothing could entirely subdue. Though his brow wore no longer its deep sadness, yet it was shaded still; and it may be, that the memory of some early sorrow urged him to flee from the gaieties of the metro polis. and seek the solitude ofliis childhood's home. There, he could be alone with his own thoughts. Society no longer charm ed him ; and steadfastly scru.inizing the frivolities of the world, he had learned to shun and pity those who loved them.— Books were now his companions ; and some times, in his bitten ess of soul, he deemed them the only friends who never altered or betrayed. It is a sad period in life, when such feel ings crowd upon us; when the beauty seems taken from our luture, and the light gone from our path-way. Gloom like this was on Ernest, as lie wandered through the old familiar haunts of his boyish days —and he pondered on those days as the only happy period he had ever known ; for getting that many hopes brightened over him still, that no era of existence is with out its blessings, and that none ran be real ly unhappy while there is good remaining to be done on earth. How few, in such mournful meditations, perceive that the change is not in the scenes and objects, a routid them, but in themselves ; that the blight has fallen, not on their prospects, but on the withering flowers of theirown hearts. The stars are always in Heaven, and the darkness lwhich shuts them from us, is a round ourselves. It was early on a summer afternoon that Ernest was seated in the library, whosetrea sur“s had so often contributed to the con solation of his loneliest hours. The win dows of the room were open, and the soft breeze sighed through the cur'ained case ments ; repose like a mantle on all. and its influence fell on Erneat also. IJis eyes were fixed on the page before him, but Ills thoughts had reamed far away to the records of the past. Throwing aside tlie learned volume, he took a panphlet from the table and careless ly opeued it. While he glanced at its con tents. a change came over his countenance, as if the lava of years had been suddenly re moved from the world of his memory. The lines lie looked on were addressed to the writer's “only friend,” and were these ; “I will not forget thee ! the links of the past, They are clinging around me yet ; And the thoughts which connected my spirits with thine Are such the heart cannot forget. They are lingering near me in tender ness still. Unstained by the touch of decay. And are brighten'd by gloom, as stars shine at night Which lose ail their lustre by day. I will not forget thee ! too many bright hopes Are gathered around thy dear name. For with accents of kindness thou greet edst me oft. When others spoke only to blame. Thy memory comes like the breath of the south, With fragrance and lovelines fraught; For communion with thee, was hallow’d by love, And chasten'd by beauty of though*.” Ernest's conscience smote him for liis forgetfulness, as he read the verses addres sed to himself and signed with the name of Walter Vere. Since their parting, these frieuds had heard nothing of each other— for Walter, with that peculiar reserve which generally forms a feature of an imaginative character, lad said nothing of h>s plans or destination ; and Ernest, in the selfishness of his individual disappointments, after the lapse of a few months' absence, had rarely thought of his youthful companion. Per haps he may be forgiven this neglect, by those wk o feel that the memory of childish friendship is often lost iu the engrossment of a deeper passion. But now, when the variety and distraction of travel had pas sed away, auJ he was once more eujoying the quiet of home, Gordon's interest in his friend returned with redoubled ardor, and he dwelt w'ith the tenderest affection on the proud aud seusitive disposition of the gifted poet. Entirely igno-ant of Walter’s residence, Eruest wrote to Sir Godfrey Kneller inquir ing for it; for he had resolved to compensate by future kindness and atten-j 1 tion, the past ueglect and suspension of their intercourse. A tew days brought the wished-for information, anil Ernest des patched a note to his friend. “Once more, dear Walter,” he said, “my wanderings are ended, and again I am a mongthe tranquil beauties of home. This place recalls the happy hours we have pas sed here, and in roaming through its fami liar scenes, I can scarcely realize that years have fled since we enjoyed them together. Will you not come to me, Walter? The sight of long forgotten things will impart to you anew inspiration—and communion with your earliest friend, will blot out the memory of sorrows we both havejtnown too well. Do not deny me, Walter; 1 have so much, so very much, to tell you. which 1 cannot write. Moreover, 1 long to learn your prospects and hopes; they were confided to me so oper.ly once, that I cannot relinquish (lie pleasure of a renewal of your confidence, lam here a lone, and the thought of having you for a companion, has given me a taste of joy 1 have not felt since we parted.” Ernest wrote truly. In solitude, his more youthful feelings had returned, and it was with an interest he had long ceased to cher ish lor the commmou events of life, that he looked for Walter’s answer. It came at last, and Ernest read as follows: “Thanks, a thousand thanks, dear Er nest for your kind invitation ; it would in deed bring back the past, to be with you again—but it may not be. The poor have but few of the pleasures of this world, and my destiny shuts me out even from these. I must remain here anil toil in solitude— but do not think me insensible of your goodness because 1 am forced to decline its offers; believe me, your affection is a mong nty dearest consolations, and you can never know how precious J hold it, till like, me, you have only only one or two to love y ou. You express an interest in my prospects; alas ! Ernest, there is little in the future that promises well forme. My writings are sufficiently profitable to pre vent our suffering, but I no longer, work with the zeal of my past efforts. Now, ex ertion is painful, and 1 turn, almost with loathing from the very lines which are the sole support of my daily existence. Do not deem me ungrateful, Gordon, because 1 speak often of my sorrows : they have, alas ! been more familiar to me than joy. 1 have but one real pleasure on earth, and that is the consciousness of giving comfort to my mother and sister, lor them 1 live, and perhaps their affection is the dearer, be cause, with the exception of yours, 1 have proved it to be the only love which ebangeth not. D» you teitiei; tier. Ernest how of ten in our boyish anticipations, I used to picture a manhood brig lit with honor and glorious with renown ? How confident 1 once was, in my powers ; hew scaring was thcambitiou which urged me to win celebri ty ! Those hopes have vanished. I find that in trusting to my own intellect, I lean ed on a broken reed, and that in sighing for frme, I pined Cor that w hich can only be gained by parting with happiness. 1 am wiser, or at least humbler, than I then was; for nothing produces in us humility so soon, as the shadowing of our proudest and brightest hopes. But 1 will uot weary you my friend, by dwelling longer on my misfor tunes ; (heir recital can avail nothing. Will you not write to me. Ernest ? Let me re alize one of my early dreams, in proving the truth of your friendship. Through years of silence and separation, I have never doubted it, and it would be paiuful indeed to find it vain at last.” “Poor Walter !” murmured Ernest, as iie finished these mournful lines : “lie has indeed known many sorrows but lie lias escaped the haughty scorn whose blight is now upon me 1” Ernest did not suspect that the disap pointment which had withered some of the better feelings of his heart, was even then clouding the sunshine of his friend, andstialing away the beauty of bis life. He dreamed not that his sadness was as nothing, compared to the wild, unmitiga ted despair of a being like Walter. Ernest had many resources ;—wealth gave him power; and change had brought him calm ness. But the poet was poor ; his suffer ings had been increased by silence and lone liness ; there was no excitement to draw his thoughts from the hour which '. ad seal ed his misery in revealing the hopelessness of his early passion. He had worshipped too long at that forbidden shrine, to knpcl before another. The incentive to exertion was gone with the faithless dream in which he had garnered up the hopes of life. The poet was of ton gentle too loving a nature, to find support in the pride which iiad prov ed a solace to Gordon- He could not, like him, re pay the scorn of the one, on ihe ma ny ; and while Ernest smiled in haughty bitterness, Walter wept in secret sorrow. CHAPTER 11. His sorrows were in secret kept, Their strength was never seen ; And those around Irm did not dream How wretched he had been ! It was a sweet summer night, when the brother and sister gazed together on the quiet and religious beauty of the far off stars. The poet’s brow was pale with j deep and troubled thoght, and in the un-. certain light, his eyes emitted a strange brightness from their dark, passionate depths. His smile too, wssi-sd, and beau ful as the moonlight. Lucy looked at lum in silence, as, wrapt in ihe mournful teveiie which was now a common n.ocii wijh lum, lie gazed on the orbs w andering above them. Tears filled tlie sister’s eyes as she mat ked the unconscious absoibtun. and witnessed the gloom which so olten cast its shadows over Waller’s spirit. , “I have not told you , Lucy, tfaat I shall be obliged soon to go to London,” said Walter, at last; speaking as if with an ef fort. “The publisher says my presence will be necessary in superintending n y forth coming work and though I dread the ve ry thought, I must go.” *tl can scarcely regret the necessity, dear Walter,” said his sister, “for I think the change of scene and exercise will improve both your health and spirits.” “I cannot bear the idea of mingling again in the crowd,” he said ; “the very air of Lon don makes me gloomy, and I fee! doubly desolate in a throng where so many sre happy. I wish Ernest would go with nte.” “Can you not ask him I" inquired Lu cy calmly; but the mention of hia name, whose sound to her was now an abiding sorrow, called up a sudden paleness on her cheek. "1 will write to him,” continued Walter “he has so many friends in London, it can but be a pleasure for him to go there. It is the wretched only who shun the multitude” “And why should you be so wretched, Walter? asked Lucy almost reproachfully. “You have blessings even yet—and is it no consolation to remember you are the stay and comfort of our mother ?” * Yes, Lucy, that consolation is the sole comfort ol my life. As for my blessings— where are they ? Is it a blessing to see you suffering from this harsh climate without the power to find you a gentler one ? If these are blessings, Lucy, I am blessed in deed !” “You must not think of me, dearest,'she answered. “Believe me the suffering of sickneßß ran no»», give the pain I feel at your repining in bitterness.” "Not in bitterness, my sister, but in sor row and hopelessness,” said Walter. “But it is too old for you here, dearest,” be ad ded, after a moment’s panse. “Retire to rest, Lucy— and may your dreams be hap py!” “Will you not go too, Walter?” “My dieam are not bright enough to tempt me,” lie answered, with his strange, sntile. “I will watch with the 6tars a little longer,”—and Lucy left him. Walter looked after her sorrowfully, and he thought her slight figure seemed wasted, even since he last observed it. Lucy sat long at her window, wrapt in si lent, cheerless meditation; and when at length she retired, she perceived through the dimness of the night, that her biother was sti'l at his station. The next morning Walter wrote to Er nest asking him to th<* metropolis. “1 dread the prospect,” he said, “but my going is necessary, and I would not neglect any thing which may add to the comfort of those dependant on me. Now, more than ever, 1 am bound to make every exer tion— fora new affliction is approaching, end death is written on the brow of one, ncarett and dearest. It is not yet too lute to save, her, and if tny next work prove popular and pofitahle. I shall seek her health in a foreiga land. Four Lury ! she is sensible of her danger, even while she attempts to conceal it; but her confession is not needed to re veal the decay 1 can trace so surely on the cheek and in the eye !” Ernest itadily corsrr.ted to rcecinpftny his friend, but he little suspected their mu tual dislike to London arose from the same cause. Walter’s letter awoke new ftclii gs in Ernest, and he read of Lucy 's danger, her sweet face came hack to him, as from a dieam. 11c remembered, and without vaa ity. the one short interview, which had Le trayed to him her heart's secret, and he asked himself if lie had done wisely in cold ly passing by such love. Ernest’s first lev • was very like most men’s; it was more a memory than a reality ; for, it was not proof against neglect and new as sociations. His devotion to Lady Alice had been so scorned and repulsed, that it had given place to a feeling of dislike ; and pride, more than affection, induced him to avoid tlie possibility of meeting her. With much true and deep feeling, he min gled a vein of vvorldlim ss, which perhaps did more than any thing else towards heal ing the wounds <>• lus lusnm. “Can 1 not an W iher in restoring'lus'hs ter TANARUS” he thought. “1 have wealth, and if is all he needs. She, perhaps, ran love me, even now ; and I would willingly show the world, that there are otbeis as w orthy of a doration as the Countess of Lysle!” How different the emotion that prompt ed the proud, yet humble adoration of Wal ter ! With a devotedness, which for years had been liis blessing, he still treasured up one lovely face ; and Alice knew not the heart she trampled en,u lien site so haught ily rejected the poet’s love ! , Scarce a week had passed, ere etfotker was added to the ciicle of the poet’s heme. The next day the friends were to journey to the city ; and now Ernest and Lucy were. again together. A single glanre at her al tered andplflcid face, told Gordon she was doomed ; and he saw, that in anticipating iier restoration, his friend v.as hoping against hope. Walter was writi“JJir his room, aril Lti ey wandered with Ernest in the suit moon light. They spoke of her brother, L;s fears, and the quiet days oi their earlier in tercourse. Gordon vaguely alluded to 1 s o.vn disappointments ; but flying from the past, he lingered over the pies< nt. At length all was forgotten and lost but too holy enchantment of that joyous moment; and in the low tone of intense feeling. U? uttered the sweetest words that ever fell oii Lucy’s ear. •■J am changed. Lucy." he continued, “from the enthusiastic being you and Wal ter once knew ; aud perbups 1 have lost nil claim to yoor forgiveness and generosity ; j but, trust me, you will find none, even t tnong the happiest and most devoid tX your suitors, who can Ltdd you dearer in his lica tof heart*, t hat/T do ! Sneak to tnc, my beloved ; tell me, Lucy ! that you cau love me, even ycl I”