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denoted to Citeraturc, Science, anb iltt, tljc Sons of (temperance, ©bb jfcllorusl)ip, iltasonrn, anb ©cncral intelligence. VOLUME I. omgig** mi. ’ THE COUSINS. BY MISS S. a. STUART. CHAP. I. fright as the sun, her eyes the gazers strike, \ml like the sun, they shine on all alike.” n \nd now for a little cozy talk with you, • \fnfv,” said Florence Leigh, as she drew cousin i nai j ’ . , ° , r 1 > arm chair near enough to the tire to en ll\(\ ‘ her t° place, her feet comfortably on the fen j !;• “1 do so like to sit and talk dreamily over jl lC ’f irc after every one has gone to bed, and double inducement offers to night, over and nhovc this state of dolca par niente , namely the opportunity it will afford me of making the ac piKiintance of mv little quiet coz, and also of learning something of your village gossip. Ido hope I°sliall enjoy myself whilst I stay here, and as the main point towards that same enjoy ment, tell me what eligible beaux you have among YOU. “The two gentleman, whom you saw here to ni-dit,” answered Marv, “together with some few others, who will probably call on you in a dav or two, are at present our only gallants. 1 also hope that you may enjoy yourself, as l assure vou nothing shall be wanting on mv part, and 1 imi satisfied 1 can answer also for papa and mamma.” “but you have so few beaux! Bv-the-bve, that Mr. Herbert who seemed to live but in your presence, is very handsome.” “bn you think so ? ” replied Mary. “Do I think so! yes, and if I am not much mistaken, my cousin Mary does not differ much in opinion from me. Come, tell me cousin, frank ly Ido love secrets, is he not your lover. lam wniiin? tnr vour confidence, and nothing surely aw make us quicker friends than a few secrets.” ** I have none, however,” said Mary, and as she spoke ablush overspread her sweet face, and rising, she said: “cousin Florence you must really excuse me, but lam very sleepy. lon see I treat von as if I had known you all my life, fori stand, candle in hand, to show you your chamber.” “That is just what I like. Maty,” said I” lorence as she relinquished her enviable seat, “ and l must thank you too, for reminding me that my late city hours will not suit you quiet people here.” The room into which Mary now conducted her cousin was next her own, and after bidding T lor nice “good night ” she left her. Her cousin, however, stood humming some tune as she t urned over several prettily bound books on the mantel, and at last opening one, on the blank page of which was written “To Miry, from Geotge, she exclaimed sot to voce. “ Ihe sly thing ! I knew there was something of the sort between them , and she is so close, that she is determined I not find oat her secrets. Ah : but Miss Maiy, you do not know how dangerous 1 may piove as a rival, if you will not secure me as amend. 1 would give much to know how in ine woiid my wise father found out the contemplated escapade, °l \\ illiam Eustace and myself; and as penance, and for security, forsooth, here am I? ?>eut bag and baggage to rusticate with these hum-uium folks. Well! I shall die, that is certain, unless 1 can get someone to flirt with ; and if Maiy, with her still tongue, will not put confidence in me as her friend, then, in self-defence, I am aft aid 1 shall have to act as her rival.” She smiled as she turned to the glass and saw her beautiful face laughing out so brightly upon her. “ How 1 do wish William knew of mv being here ; it would he quite delightful to out wit my good fathei aftet all, was the prayer offered by this dutiful daugh ler as she prepared for bed. How mysterious are the feelings which some times creep into the heart, as it were, warning instinctively, whom to shun, by the almost *1 mil imparted by their presence, seeming ere we lave c °me into actual contact, that a secret foe is • a presentiment as tins had been felt. - * Leigh when her cousin f lorence first made her appearance in their Eden of happi ,ness ‘ Jt seemed, to her, that though the present knew no cloud to o’ershadow the sunlight <>f con tent men tin which she was placed, that the halcyon t nv would not long continue, and that she should know sorrow, i n somewise connected with her eousin. Her reserve, therefore, we may not call U hi ness, arose in some degree from this feeling. Almost idolised bv her parents, whose only 1 11 f l s he was, she hardly knew what it was to ‘ n ° a wish ungratified. And love also had found in her"“ heart* of hearts,” for she loved purge Herbert as only those can love, who, for le first time, give up all their hopes and fear, ; IGlr present, their future, to the keepingmf some . ne |J on e. She had been accustomed from child -1 f) d s earliest days to loving him, and it would ,liNe appeared most strange to her had it been (otherwise. Their families were on the most in timate terms, and often and over had Mary 7 listened to the elder people when she was allotted out in the vista of the future as the wife of her play mate and hoy lover, George. Since his return from college, some three months back, he had visited Mary on the same familiar terms ; and she, perfectly 7 contented and happy in the present, never thought of the future, for though George had never asked her to be his wife, yet she was satisfied that he loved her, and that at some fu ture day r she would become Mrs. Herbert. Such was the state of affairs when Florence Leigh came on a visit for the winter to the family of’ her uncle. Lively, accomplished, and beautiful, it may be that Mary dreaded her as a rival, for she had had an inkling ofher coquettish propensities ; and our Mary was not without human frailties, perhaps she had jealousy of her cousin, which may somewhat account for her presentiment in regard to her cousin’s advent. CHAP. 11. “ Oh, what a change como3 over that sad heart Where all was joyous, light and free from care, All thoughts of peace do for a time depart And yield to rage, to anguish and despair.” George Herbert too. our hero—to be sure we , must have a hero —was a handsome, noble-spiri ted fellow as ever the summer sun shone upon, and with rather more romance in his disposition than suits this our “ working day” world. He had formed some utopian scheme of happiness in this life, and the divinity, whom when found he was to enshrine in this temple of his worship— was to bo an angel —a woman, without a fault— I am sure 1 cannot tell where he would find her —beautiful as a Peri and loving him devotedly, [n idealizing this goddess she invariably took the. form and features of Mary Leigh, and by dwell ing upon this semblance.be became really in love with her. An excellent musician himself, he had but one blemish to find in Mary’s charms, we can’t call it: a fault, and we all know that there are spots even in the sun —and that was, she had no “ music in her soul,” or at least though she possessed in speaking a sweet, low voice, “that most excellent thing in woman,” as Shakspeare says, vet could Marv neither play nor sing. Ere Florence therefore had passed one month with her cousin, she would chain George Herbert to her side, enchanted and dazzled by her well strained, exquisite voice, and taste in her execu tion, and having with her intuitive perception oil character found out our hero’s - penchant , deter-j mined in her own mind to eclipse her fair cousin. She left no means untried to accomplish this end proposed. Is it therefore to be wondered at that night after night found George seated by her side at the piano, accompanying her and listening to her as she played for him his favorite airs which, as I said before, from her taste in playing, derived ever new beauty. Poor Mary endeavored to hide her jealousy as she found herself thus deserted ; but her oft-times brightened color and somewhat petuient replies to George and Florence, showed that the “green eyed monster ” was at work within. Florence, more deeply read in the heart than die pure minded, childlike Mary, knew that it was nut love which kept George Hei belt by nci side, and piqued that she had not in reality ob tained that masterv over Marv she had anticipa ted. tried yet more to widen the breach she saw existing between them, caused by the coldness of her cousin. For this purpose she insinuated her self into his confidence ; and under the maH* of friendship for them both, said those things to one about the other, which though trivial in tnem selves, yet to each “ was confirmation strong, as proofs from holy writ,” that now no love existed in the hearts of either. . The next best thing to conversing with trie loved one, is the talking with a friend about that one, and though George often sighed and secretly lamented that they were not as they used to be; nnd though he oftentimes came to the resolution of straving from Mr. Leigh’s ; yet, the grat.hea non of seeing Mary’s lovely lace and talking with Florence concerning her, coaid not be with stood, and the resolution was only framed to be One evening thev were all seated in the draw in<r room looking at some books of beautiful en graving that Mrs. Leigh had received. George s ?nirits'were unusually high, for Marv had ap peared to him more like the Mary of former dn vs. whilst she joined merrily in the laagh which ne had raised; and had once or twice ounng .he evening called him “ George as was her cus tom till of late. f h power and Florence began totiemn e lor m . | )f endeavored to draw George’s attention to hew If bv some little maneuvering, which had faded , and a las. recourse had opened .he p,ano and com menced his favorite song, the one m which he in variably joined. SAVANNAH, GA,. THURSDAY, OCTOBER 11. 1819. I Still George kept his seat, he was holding the book for Mary and looking lovingly into her eyes as lie commented on the prints. At length an idea came into Mary’s mind, clouding her now ‘gladsome face, that she was detaining him by | her side, against his will, through mere politeness. “ Why do you not,” said she, “join Flor ence ? ” “ Because I am selfish, and find myself more agreeably employed than usual.” “ Thank you George, but never pay me com pliments fori dislike them” but the smile which brightened both eye and lip showed that she was pleased. “’ Tis no compliment I assure you, Mary,” said George in a grave tone. “To you I always mean what 1 say, but here lately you have not been to me as usual, nor allowed me to talk as formerly without a curl of contempt or doubt on your lip. Tell me what 1 have done to cause ibis difference ? ” “ Difference! I am sure I am conscious of none,” but the tell-tale blush belied her words, and she hesitatingly answered—“at least in my self.” How true it is we can neyer see the fault in ourselves, but wish ever to make others the scape goat for our misdemeanors. Here was Mary in good faith denying her part in the coldness from which she had been suffering for some time, and laying the blame on George ! “But, Mary, why did you” “ Secrets —and from me ! Why 3-011 and Mary, Mr. Herbert, oughl really to be ashamed of your selves—t alking secrets when only three are in the room. Do you really wash me to consider my self ‘ Mademoiselle de Trop ,’ or in the same un* wished-for situation of the old grandame, whom her hopeful grandchild, when in her presence with only the cat, wished one of the three was dead; at the same time making his meaning plain, by saying, It aim me and it amt you, pussy. Come, tell me tooand Florence deliberately seated herself, and, looking into Mary’s face, en deavored to read what was passing. “ Certainly no secrets,” said Mary, “ for you know, Florence, I have told you 1 never had one.” “ l thought you made Miss Florence your con fident in every thought,” said George. “Who, J? No, indeed,” said Mary. “I never told vou anything in my life. Have I, Florence ?” “ Oh, no;” but the light laugh contradicted the words, and the tone was such we use to humor a spoiled child. At once anew light began to dawn on Mary. She now saw, as in a glass, plainly the cause of the estrangement between herself and George. Florence had been making mischief; and site had aided her by her own behaviour! She se cretly and termined on an explanation with George, and at once satisfy herself and unmask Florence. She was aroused from her reverie by George Her bert’s bidding her cousin “good night;” and al most unconsciously she smiled and held forth her hand to him, as she had ever done, until Flor ence’s ill-fated visit to herself. “ So George lias proposed and been accepted. Is it not so, Mary V inquired Florence. \ou must really excuse my ill-timed intrusion ; but l thought, poor simpleton that I am, that there was no aJJ a ire ducoeur between you.” “ Nor is there now,” -said Maty. “Well, what was he so earnestly whispering to you about, then ?” “ Nothing,” replied her cousin, quietly 7 , but with a smile, at Florence’s pique and curiosity. “ I do declare, cousin Mary, you are provoking, for you are as reserved with me now, as the iirs>t day i came ; and here have I been nearly two months. Good night,” and she hastily lifted her candle, and, without waiting for Mary, ran up the stairAo her room. chap. nr. “No cloud Os ringer slinil remain, but pGaco assured And reconcilement.’ ’ A week passes on, and they are busy for the Ball which has been for sometime contemplated at the village hotel. The morning of the Ball brought a note from George Herbert to Mary, re questing the pleasure of being her escort, accom panied bv two beautiful boquets, for hei ana hei cousin Florence. As Mr. Leigh also intended being of their party, an answer in the affirmative was returned, and soon after breakfast the girls retired to their sep arate apartments, to make some preparation foi the evening. On their entrance into the Ball room, Mary noticed a gentleman, who seemed a stranger; but who, the moment her own party 7 entered, ad vanced to Florence, and, after the usual recogni zance, was introduced by her to the remainder of ; their party 7 , as “ Mr. Eustace.” Florence seemed much agitated and confused at first, more than Mary had ever seen her; but her embarrassment soon wore off, and she became by far the gayest of the assembly. | Mary, too, was happy, for George had been ! her shadow all the evening; had danced but once with her cousin* who, indeed, had been entirely monopolized by Mr. Eustace; and she was now rapidly returning to the tone and manner ol hap pier days. She had taken her place in the cotillion again with George Herbert, as her partner, when Flor erfee approached. “ Marv, if von miss me, I came to tell you that 1 am just going into the dressing-room to mend my slipper, which has split; but you need not trouble yourself to go with me,” as Mary offered to accompany Iter, “ J do not. mind going alone.” Mary danced with George the remainder of •the evening, and when her father came to remind her of the lateness of the hour, she thought of her cousin for the first time, and was surprised to find that she had not returned to the ball room. She inquired for her, but could obtain no information. Alarmed, she sent for her father, and told him of her absence. He comforted her by the assurance that she had undoubtedly gone home with Mr. Eustace, not wishing to carry her home so early. When Mary and her father arrived, their fears were renewed by learning that Florence had not been at home. Immediately the gentleman re turned to the hotel, to make inquiries concerning Mr. Eustace. “He has started three hours ago,” said the ostler. “ Was there a lady with him ?” “Yes, sir, two; the lady, who came with him, but was too unwell to go into the ball room, and another.” “ Which road did they take ?” “ I does’nt know, for certain, sir, but thinks they took the New York road.” No further information could be obtained, and Mr. Leigh returned to his family, and wrote to his brother, who resided in New York. A week elapsed, and no news had arrived from the fugitives. In the meantime George Herbert had proposed, and Marv, still remembering bis attentions to her cousin, was inclined to keep him in suspense, when the following letter from the ci-devant Florence Leigh arrived, and did as much towards expediting his suit, as she had before re tarded it: New York, 1343. Dear Cousin Mary : Were you not all very much surprised when yoi could not find me on the night of your village fM ? I knew it would create quite a sensation; and that was partly my reason for complying with William’s request to elope with him from the ball. By-the-bye, how do you and vour country beau come on ? Have you made up your pet, and forgotten me? You must really excuse me for my little essay at flirtation with the interesting youth, as it was pure compassion on mv part which induced me to give him his first lesson, and, 1 must add, a little, just a tiny desire, on mv part to pique my say-nothing cousin, who, I believe, imagined I could not keep a secret. To prove to you, however, that I not only could but really did keep one, 1 will tell you now that I was in constant correspondence with W illiam Eustace, and was an accomplice in his plan to carry me off the night of your party. Don’t you recollect I would wear not hing but white, but what is the use of reminding you whose head, and heart too, was entirely taken up with George Herbert. Well ! success to yoi now, though I expect dearly as you love him, you had rather “ pine away and die ” than run away and be happy. ?a has received us, what else could he do ? The only fault he finds with William is. that he will drink a little and play ecarte ; but 1 will get him to leave off tho se gentlemanly vices, if I can, if not, 1 have no one to blame for future unhappiness but myself. My, respects to aunt Leigh and uncle, ami believe me, for all the amuse ment vou and your lover have aflbrded ire, I re main, Your obliged Cousin, FLORENCE EUSTACE. p. g.—As they say the pith of a lady’s letter lies alwavs in the addenda, 1 must no; depart- in tins case from the general rule. Please tell George Herbert that those little romances I told him about vou, were only “ pour passer le Urns," 1 and owed their invention entirely to the fertility of mv ima gination and to idleness, which the old copy-books wisely teaches us to be “ the root of all evil.” I hope you both will accept my “ amende honorable Yours, F. E. Colonel’s Island, Oct., 1349. Love and Friendship. —Love is the shadow of the morning, which decreases as the day advances.— Friendship is the shadow of the evening, which strengthens with the setting sun of life. NUMBER U