Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

VOLUME 11. C'jjt jfriettlt of £jjt jfnmilij, A Weekly Southern Newspaper, PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY, BY EDWARD J. PURSE. terms: Two Dollars a year, in advance, or Two Fifty if not paid within three months. SUBSCRIPTIONS RECEIVED FOR SIX MONTHS, AT ONE DOLLAR, IN ADVANCE. Three copies for one year, or one copy three years, $5 00 Seven Copies, 10 00 Twelve copies, 15 00 *** Advertisements to a limited extent, will he inserted at the rate of 50 cents for a square of twelve lines or less, for the first in sertion, and 30 cents for each subsequent insertion. Business curds inserted for a year at Five Dollars. CF*A liberal discount will be made to Post Masters who will do us the favor to act as Agents. Postmasters are authorized to remit mo ney to Publishers and all money mailed in presence of the Postmaster, and duly for warded o* him, is at our risk. EF* All communications to be addressed -paid) to E. J. PURSE, Savannah, (la. JOHN POOLE, 1 WHOLESAT-F. AND RETAIL: paint and oil store, No. 11 Whitaker Street, Ke*ps constantly for sale White Lead, Pure Nos. Ind 2 English. Ground Paints: Black. Yellow, Brown, Chrome Green, Paris Green, and Prussian Blue; Dry Venetian Red, Spanish Brown, Lamp black. Yellow Ochre, Red Lead, Litharge, Paris and Chrome Green, Prussian Blue, Chrome Yel low, Umber, Terra de Sienna, Drop Black, and a ▼arietv of fancy colors; Linseed Oil, Sperm do, Neatsfoot do. and Spirits of Turpentine; IVhite Wash Brushes, Paint, Varnish, Graining and Ar tists Brushes; Window and Picture Glass of all qualities; Copal, Japan, Light and Dark Coach Varnish; Mixed Paints of all Paper Hang ings, Fire Board Prints and Borders. The above articles will be sold on reasonable trms. CTF” House, Sign and Ship Painting done in a workmanlike manner, and at reasonable prices, oct 19 ly G. BUTLER, MASTER BUILDER, DEALER IN WHITE PINE LUMBER, York Street, Oglethorpe Square. N. B.—He is prepared to put in Iron fronts in Stores, &e. ly oct 19 T. R. CLARKE, FASHIONABLE BOOT MAKER, Next door to corner Bull and Broughton-sts. oct 10 lv A. PONCE, Importer and Manufacture r of Scgars, No. 13 Whitaker Street, Keeps on hand a well selected stock of impoited Sugars; also Manufactured Tobacco, Snuff, Pipes, and nil other articles usu ally kept in itis line or business, which he offer* on the most reasonable terms. ly oct 19 SAM L. L. SPEISSEGGER, TUX Ell A REPAIRER PIAXO FORTES. # HAVING been engaged in the above husi- j aiess for the last 3”> years, Mr S. trusls that special references are unnecessary. Orders left with Mr H. S. Bogardus, Bull-st., Messrs K. Zoghaum & Cos., or Messrs I. W. Mor r<*jl & Cos., will he attended to with promptness and fidelity. lm oct 12 W. A. J. WYLLY, CABINET MAKER <s• UNDERTAKER, j Corner of Broughton and Bull Streets, Under the Lyceum Hall. Coffins of all kind* made of the best materials, and j furnished at the shortest notice. Also, new and second hand Fu niture bought and sold, and repaired with dispatch. ect 12 2 m N. ELLS, FASHIONABLE BOOT MAKER, No. 140 Broughton-st., near the corner of Bull-sf. oct 12 if J. S. SOLOMONS WILL contract to execute Plastering, of all kinds ■ and styles, at the shortest notice. Residence. President Street, next door to Air B. | Snider's. 2m oct 12 BOOK*~ANI) job printing. GEO. N. NICHOLS, Owex*’ Building, opposite the Pulaski House,) SAVANNAH, GA. I* prepared to execute all work in his line, with neatness and despatch, and in a style not to be surpassed. Trice* as reasonable as any other establishment In the city. ly Be p( *S JOHN F. SHEEN, FASHIONABLE TAILOR , j Over J. M. Havwood’s Hair Dressing Saloon, OPPOSITE THE PULASKI HOUSE. Cutting, Mending and Cleaning done with neatness and despatch. Work made up as cheap as a any other establishment in the city. sep f -l J DE MARTIN, DEALER IN Fruits, Wines, Liquors, Segars, PICKLES, PRESERVES and GARDEN SEEDS. —: also:— APPLES, ONIONS <s• POTATOES, When in eaon, received fresh by every vessel. —: also : Oysters put up to order in from 1 to 10 gallon kegs. Corner of Bay and Whitaker Streets, JOHN OLIVER, HOUSE AND SIGN PAINTER, GILDER, GLAZIER, &c., No. 121 Broughton Street, a fete doors east of Whitaker Street, Savannah, (la. tW All kinds of Paints—Paint Oil, Turpentine, Varnish, Glass, Putty, for sale. July 20 EDWARD G. WILSON, JUSTICE OF THE PEACE, Conveyancer, Collector, Accountant Jj- Copyist, Office uiuler J. M. Haywood’s. R -turn Day, Wednesday, November 27th. JOHN MALLER'Sf, DRAPER AND TAILOR, No. 55 Bay-st. joining the City Hotel. Invites the attention to his Stock of New and Seasonable. Goods, now opening, consisting of choice READY MADE CLO I HJNG and 1 LR NISHING GOODS, comprising every article of Gentlemen’s apparel. Also, a full supply of CLOTHS, CAS ft IM E RES and VESTINGS, of various shades and qualities —which will be made to order in the most ap proved style, by competent and experienced Workmen, warranted to give entire satisfaction, and at prices to suit the times oct 18 Jlinintfii fn literature, unit M s tlje §nno of (teinjieranre; (Dili jfrllotusljiji, jteonnj unit tjie linos of tjje Dm}. McARTHOR & MORSE, Manufacturers and Dealers in PLAIN, JAPANNED & BLOCK TIN WARE, HOLLOW & ENAMELLED WARE, STOVES AND COOKING RANGES, Lead Pipe, Sheet Lead. Copper and Zinc, STORE, |;t BARNARD STREET. All kinds ot Copper, I'm arid Sheet Iron Work, done in the best manner, at the shortest notice. se pt 21 lyr ALLEN & BALL, FACTORS & COMMISSION MERCHANTS, No. 112 BAY STREET, SAVANNAH, GA. J. M. BALL & CO., Commission fHcrchauts, MACON, GEORGIA. ROBERT A. ALLEN, JAMES M. BALL, sept 2ft ly JONES & PAPOT, Shipwrights, Spar Makers, AND CAULKERS. Yard opposite R.&. J. Lachlison’s Foundry. R. H. DARBY, jel ~ Comer Broughton and Whitaker Streets, SAVANNAH, GEORGIA. R. H. D. is prepared to execute all orders for Making or Cutting on reasonable terms, mar 9 ly J. S. STURTEVANT, MASTER BUILDER, Corner Montgomery and Liberty Sts. All orders in his line will be promptly attended to, and faithfully executed. ly june 1 JOHN V. TARVER, FACTOR # COMMISSION MERCHANT EXCHANGE WHARF, SAVANNAH, GA. RABUN & FULTON, COMMISSION MERCHANTS, No. 207 Bay Street, Savannah, Ga. J. W. RABUN, R. L. FULTON, I. P. WHITEHEAD. LANIER HOUSE, BY LANIER & SON, june 22 Macon, Georgia. J. HASBROUCK & CO., Wholesale and Retail Dealers in CHINA, GLASS AND EARTHENWARE, sept 21 BROUGHTON STREET, SAVANNAH. S. Y. LEVY, ATTORNEY AT LAW, Office, No. ISS Bay-Street. E. T. SHEFTALL, ATTORNEY A T L AW , may 25 Dublin, Georgia. MEDICAL NOTICE. DOCTOR MOREL. Office No. 157 Brough ton Street. ts mar 23 FRANCIS WAVER, IMPORTING 8c COMMISSION MERCHANT, No 107 Bay Street, Savannah, Geo. PHILIP KEAN, DRAPER AND TAILO R, AND DEALER IN READY MADE CLOTHING. Penfield s Range, No. 98 Bryan Street, Store formerly occupied by J. Southwell &, Cos G. W HEDRICK, HOUSE AND SIGN PAINTER, Gilder, Glazier, Graincr & Paper Hanger. No. 12 Barnard Street, South ot the Market, IS always ready to execute all orders in his line with dispatch, and at the lowest prices. All kinds of mixed Paints, Glass and Putty kept for sale. lyr Dec 22 J. T. JONES, MANUFACTURER AND DEALER IN Double & Single Guns, Rifles, &c., West .Side of Monument Square. SAMUEL S. MILLER, MANUFACTURER OF CARRIAGES AND WAGONS, DEALER IN HUBS, SPOKES, FELLOES, &e. No. ]4O llroughton St., Savannah. A SHORT, MASTER BUILDER, Will take contracts for Building and Work in Masonry of every description. Cornet of South Broad and Whitaker streets. may 26 CONTRACTOR AND BUILDER. The subscriber is prepared to execute with neatness and despatch all work in the above line. 142 Broughton St. Two Doors West ot 1. W. MORRELL’S Furniture Store, june 1 ly I. SOLOMONS, Agent. CLOTHING, PIERSON & HE ll)T offer for sale CLOTHING, Wholesale and Retail, at New lurk prices, No. 10 Whitaker Street. apl 26 DR. J. DENNIS, BOTANIC DRUGGIST Next door above L. C. Warren &. Cos, Augusta, Ga. Keeps constantly on hand a choice assortment, selected from the best establishments in the United States, consisting of Emetics, Cathartics, Diapho retics, Diuretics, Expectorants. Emmenagoaues, Stimulants, Tonics, Astringents, Nervines, Alka lies, Alteratives, Rubefacients, and Compounds for family use. Composition Powder, No. Six, Lobelia in its various preparations, &c., also Medical Books. may 4 ALFRED HAYWOOD, CORNER BRYAN AND BARNARD STREETS, Market Square, Savannah, Dealer in Choice FRUITS, CANDIES. NUTS, ORANGES, LEMONS, APPLES, AND PO TATOES, \Y holesale and Retail. First quality Thunderbolt Oysters, Fi-h, &,c. Newark refined Champaigne Cider, and Albany Cream Ale, by the bbl. f-© 5 * Orders from the Country, accompanied by the cash or City reference, punctually attended to aug 9 GAS PIPES AND FIXTURES. STRATTON & DOBSON, Having received an assortment of Chandeliers, Pendants, Brackets and Portable Gas Burners, respectfully invite the citizens of Savannah to call at their store, No. 72 St. Julian street, and examine the same * 4t June 1 G. M. GRIFFEN, ig>L HA\ ING purchased the stock in trade of JuVjthelate M. Eastman, would solicits the con” VMiflfr;inued patronage ot all the friend of the establishment. All customers shall be pleased with goods and satisfied with prices. GEO. M. GRIFFEN. N. B.—Watches and Chrometers will receive the personal attention of Mr. G., as usual, sept 21 Iflrrtrii THE SISTER'S FAREWELL. Dear Sister, sit beside my bed, And let me see your gentle smile, And let me lay my aching head Upon your kindly arm awhile ; I shall not long be with you now, My time is drawing to an end : May we our spirits meekly bow, And He release from suffering send. The longed-for summer’s drawing near; The wind is softer, and the sun Streams down so brightly on me here, It almost seems already come. But now—l never more shall see The fields and lanes, all gay with flowers, Nor hear the murmur of the bee, Nor song of birds among the bowers. For here, no beauteous change we see In nature, ns the year rolls on ; No green bursts forth on bush and tree When winter's chilling frosts are gone. No gentle flowers or odours sweet, In summer cheer us as we go ; Nought see we but th’ unchanging street. And weary passing to and fro. The summer, though “tis summer still, Seems not the same while we are here. How sweet the thought of that clear rill, That trembled from the hillock near To our old house! I sometimes think, With mj’ eyes closed, and half-asleep, That 1 am lying on the brink Os the old fish-pond, still and deep. Methinks in one of those sweet nooks, Beneath the hanging willow-trees, I listen to the cawing rooks And busy humming of the bees. t And, moodily, 1 watch the trout Make circles in the tranquil pool; And watch the swallows skim about. And feel the breeze so fresh and cool. Let me awake—the dreatn was brief— Be thankful for my sufferings here ; Be thankful, too, for Heaven’s relief. E’en though 1 leave thee, sister dear, Yet let me once more see you smile ; A Vision opens on me blight! Lay your hand by me for a while— And now, God bless you love— Good Night! [Household Words. frlulrii €‘nlc. IT IS NO FICTION. “Oh ! I could he bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.’' — Hamlet. “ I am wrapped in dismal thinkings.”—Shaks- PEAKE. I have been a dreamer all my life. The earliest recollections of my childhood are of dreams of greatness. My boyhood’s visions were peopled with warlike tumults. There were no spring mornings to my brain, even in early youth ; my heart was clouded with shadow, and sadness reigned when mirth and careless glee should have been pre eminent. My manhood has been a fitful, feverish and painful existence. I have outlived all whom 1 ever cured for ; 1 have seen those whom 1 idolized lie before me cold and senseless; and now,with every event vividly impressed upon my memo ry', each tone of the voice of’ her 1 loved dropping like liquid fire into my brain, and drying up the tears that would weep away my anguish —feeling all this with intensity, and longing for the free air of heaven, 1 find myself alone—desolate—and here ! ! Oh ! the horrors of this prison solitude—the anxious watching for the pale morning after sleepless nights—the horrible nights when fantastic shapes are alone visible, mocking at and jeering me—when the only sounds 1 hear are the ra vings of some wretched maniac, confined, like myself, because we have made for ourselves a world, and our imaginations have created a presiding divinity; and should a laugh disturb the silence, it is the outbreak of a maddened spirit seek ing relief from thought—a laugh frightful, because a mockery —sad in iis boisterousness —“ the laugh which laughs not.” For many weary years I have been pent up in this prison, pining for freedom, hoping for things which never existed, conjuring up antici pations of a brighter future, calling upon her who made •* The starlight of nty boyhood,” to look down upon me from her blest abode, and woo me back to calmness by one gentle word, one loving glance ; and then sinking in to hopeless, bitter despondency, when 1 remembered that she was gone, and that I should see her no more. Sometimes I can think of her in her exquisite beauty, and my soul drinks in, as it were, the sweet and liquid tones of the voice which once spoke peace to me, and, fancying her again before me, I sink into an unquiet slumber, till some hideous dream oppresses me, and I see ibe fair brow ot my “Julia” contrac ted, withered ; and, instead of her silvery voice of enchantment, a hissing sound escapes the lips I have worshipped. I rise and try to approach, but she recedes. I awake—l start from my uneasy bed —I find this horrible picture, which bore the impress of reality, is but a SAVANNAH, GA., SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 1850. dream. I awake to the conscious ness that my beloved is dead, and that my eyes will gaze upon lief beauty no more. How few there are in this busy world who, when passing those a bodes of wretchedness—“ private madhouses” —can imagine the ag ony, the misery, the despair that dwells there! But to my history. 1 was the only child of General Sir Frederick and Lady Charlotte B . I was reared in luxury ; the rude air was scarcely allowed to blow upon my delicate frame. I can remember new, though years have passed, andfeorrow has bowed me—l can remember the happy days when my wearied head was pillowed on the bosom of my moth er, and, after she had sung me to sleep with some wild melodv, she would place me in my small luxuri ous cot, and watch over me with those deep-loving eyes, and he the first to comfort and re-assure me if uneasy dreams—for even then 1 was a.dreamer—made me awake to sorrow. But my mother died.— Even now I shudder at the recol lection of the desolateness of mv agony when I knew I had looked on her for die last time. Even now I can feel the coldness which crept over me as 1 laid my cheek to hers. My blood was frozen. I could not weep. Oh ! tears would have been a relief, hut they were denied me ; and though I saw her taken from my embrace, and her beloved form laid n the vault, I could still gaze with speechless agony—but 1 wept not. Howl wished for the quiet of the grave ; for even then there was a whirlwind within my bosom, and my sensitive heart shrank from hold ing converse with, or bestowing con fidence on another as freely or un reservedly as 1 had done with the dear being whom I had lost. Shortly after ibis event my father was ordered upon foreign service, and my childhood was passed a rnong relatives who were strangers to me. it was a childhood without love. I remembered my mother, and none could supply her place. 1 could not trust in another as I had trusted in her. In m v sorrows, real or imaginary, none other could com fort me. 1 longed for my child hood’s resting place, where I might again pillow my aching head, and sleep once more the calm sleep hallowed by a mother’s matchless love. At an early age I was sent to one of our great public schools, and there, although I endured some hardships, yet I experienced also something like the pleasures and pastimes of boyhood. From having been a weakly, del icate child, I Drew strong and ae live, hut a gloom was ever upon me. In my moments of relaxation I would join some of mv companions in their games of play ; but even then a dark phantom pursued me, and I would fancy a shadowless spirit was after me ; if I ran it al ways followed me with its noiseless steps, and my constant fear was that it would overtake me. This was madness —aye, I cart see it now —it teas madness coming upon me. I frequently used to endeavor to dispel the illusion by reading ; but if I raised my eyes from my book there was figure, looking at me and sighing, and its lips would move as if to speak —but there was no sound. 1 have sat for hours watching this bane of my existence. 1 have sat till mv eyes were fixed from fright, and I have tried to move, hut I felt chained to the spot, and the fetters that appeared to hind me, seemed of cold heavy steel, that fell on my whole body and paralyzed me.— Then I could feel my heart growing dead, and yet throbbing with those dull, audible throbs, till at last l have shrieked in the agony of my horror, and only then would the dark being leave me —but it left me moody and mad. I had one friend at school who would soothe me by gentle words, and tell me my fears were but fan cy, and he would hold m v hands un til 1 slept, and lost, for the time at least, the phantom which pursued me. That friend is dead. I have out lived him. Why should the madman live ? When I was about sixteen a new life opened to me. There came as a visitor to one of the ladies belong ing to the establishment, a young and lovely girl. I first saw her at the private chapel belonging to the school. The moment 1 looked at her a gush of hitherto unknown pleasure came to my heart. I felt that I could love her. I saw her again and again. I have stood for hours by the house in which she was, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Sometimes I was successful—more frequently not — hut it was something to hope for.— Once I fancied that her eye fell up on me. Oh, how I was repaid by that one pure glance ! While she remained at —, my life was one of bright and vivid fan cy, and l was cheered by the angel Hope ; hut at length her visit came to a termination; yet, though I knew she had departed, 1 would go daily to my accustomed place, and gaze until I fancied the beauti ful girl was again before me. A t the usual period my school days ended, and my college life be gan. I was entered at Christ Church, Oxford. I read hard, and obtained the highest honours. My fame was brilliant. I was talked of, and marked by my superiors as a rising man. Shortly afterwards, I was returned as one of the members of a family borough in my native county, and my first speech in Parliament met with general applause. The world called me a fortunate man. Oh ! ihev little knew the nights of hor ror I passed—the battling I had with my attendant phantom, which still pursued me, blighted me.— But 1 was mad, and the excitement of madness was called energy. How often I have laughed them to scorn, as 1 have sat alone with the dark soirit! My sole ambition was that the girl whom I had seen and admired might hear of my career; and that, with honours crowded upon me, I nfight see her again, that I might place my laurel crown at her feet, lay bare my heart’s best feelings, my undying love for her, and prove to her how entire was my devotion, how earnest my worship. I saw many young and lovely girls ; and I was told that mother’s looked upon me as a desirable match—hut l was true to my first love. 1 remembered her in the per fection of maiden beauty—l wished for none other ; and to see her again was my sole hope in life. After a season of unceasing gaie ty and dissipation—sick of London and its vanities—l determined to travel, and for seven years 1 was absent from my native land. 1 was recalled to attend the death-bed of my father. 1 had seen but little of him ; he had no sympathy with me, and in heart we were strangers to each other. — 1 He was proud of my talents, and I was an only son ; but he never be ! stowed any real affection on me. — 1 honoured him because he was my parent; but I never loved him as I ought to have loved a father. He died, and I succeeded to the baronetcy and estates ; but I was already tired of life—wretched in the midst of my splendour. In a word —l ivas mad. At the table of a friend I met a man a few years my senior, whom I had known at school. We renewed our acquaintance; and I accepted an invitation to dine at his house, to meet some old schoolfellows. I consented to go, but not cheer fully, for a moody state of mind was coming over me. I can re member the struggle, the exertion it was to dress for this party. Twenty times I was tempted to send a mes sage saying I was too unwell to go, but my belter angel prevailed—and I went. To what an eventful pe riod was that evening but the pre ; lude ! My friend met and welcomed me with a cordiality which somewhat cheered me ; bui I had a weight on my spirits from which 1 could not ! rouse myself, and most reluctantly 1 accompanied Sir Charles Tracey, j with faltering steps and an aching 1 heart and brow, into the inner 1 drawing room, to be introduced to I his wife, Lady Tracey. She was seated on a low ottoman, with her back to the door, reading. She arose as her husband presented me to her as his old friend, Sir Fred j erick B . She turned towards me, and fora moment 1 was over powered. I beheld before me the creature 1 had so long pined for— -1 so earnestly searched for—whose ; memory I had devotedly and en tirely worshipped. With exquisite grace she extend ed her hand to welcome her hus band’s guest, and as I held those small taper fingers in mine, thick coming fancies crowded upon me. I was again the schoolboy—the anx ious, ardent schoolboy, longing even for a look from this lovely woman whose band l now held in mine.— Hot tears rushed into my and I bent over the fair hand to conceal them. i This momentary cloud passed ; away, and while seated by her I for got that we been parted, and imagination peopled a world of love—a paradise of hope. “ But she in these fond feelings had no share.” The years which had passed, had changed her from a lovelv girl into O J O the more matured loveliness of the matron. When I had last seen her, her hair, which was a rich and shining black, hung in natural and graceful curls over her beautiful and classi cally formed head. Now the thick and luxuriant mass was gathered into a knot behind, and laid in soft bands over her pure and polished brow. Her eyes were of that deep full blue which is so rare, and were large and bright, and full of fire and spirit, which at times gave an appearance of haughtiness to her noble countenance ; her throat,neck, and arms, were white as ivory, and formed in the most perfect mould ; her height was commanding, and her figure exquisitely propo tioned. Before she spoke l could only look at her with wonder, that any thing so glorious could be earthly ; but the instant she addressed me, a peculiar witchery played over her features and about her mouih ; and my wonder was instantly changed into love and adoration, and I drank in with eagerness the silvery sweet ness of her voice. I fancied on this night that Lady Tracey bestowed* more attention on me than on her other guests ; for women have an intuitive tact in dis covering when a man admires de voted ly. For that night I lost my dark phantom, I slept a sweet sleep, dreaming of things which could never be accomplished; and my waking vision, as wild and improb able, was that she might one day re turn my love. 1 would not lose sight of my new ly found treasure. I called at her residence. 1 was admitted. Tracey looked more lovely by day light than with the full blaze of can dle light upon her beauty. There was a delicacy about her complex ion no daylight could impair; but it spoke also of a delicacy of consti tution which made me tremble as 1 gazed. The fascination of her mannei, the elegance of her movements, her light and airy tread, her musical voice, her bright but subdued laugh ; all these combined made me idolize her. There is but one sun in heaven ; there was but one Julia to my eyes pn earth. Her shadow had fallen on my heart as the sun on an is land far aw;#y from land in the lonely sea. It was filled with light and verdure, and all my best feel ings were warmed to ripeness by her glowing smile. W e conversed together on poetry, music, history, the arts ; and I dis covered she possessed a refined and superior intellect. A sparkling tincture of satire mingled with her mention of men and things ; but while she did this with perfect tem per and gentleness, it gave a bril liancy to her con versution not to be described. She expressed a wish fora hook which 1 had the happi ness to possess ; here was an op portunity for another visit# Again and again we met, and 1 was in toxicated with love ; but I saw no reciprocal feeling on her part. She was the same gentle and charming o o being; but she bestowed no love upon tho poor visionary who adored her. On the days we met I was gay and happy ; but on the intervening ones I was in despair. All my darkest thoughts came back upon me, fraught with even greater hor rors. I tried to battle with my evil spirit, but I could not subdue it. It grasped me tightly in its fetters ; and I had no respite until I was a gain in the presence of my Julia. The smallest sound of her voice, with its silvery sweetness, broke the sad chain which had bound me, and I was free to 100k —to love—to wor ship again. Oh, why did not these moments of rapture last forever! This holy calm, like an enchanted circle, into which my spirit of evil not venture, why was it bro ken l Why did sickness, and sor row, and madness —yes, furious, hopeless, desponding madness— darken those sunny days? Why did death come to her, and thick clouds to me ? The sky mocks me with its gem med radiance. The stars shine on brightly ; but they fail to give light and hope to me. I have gazed on them with her. I have seen her stand with her brow raised, and her lovely face bathed in moonlight ; but as lhe pale beams danced around her, to my eyes her own glory dimmed all other brightness. The winds howl, and the trees wave to and fro in the tempest, and with every blast comes a shriek, as if Julia were in despair, and 1 arise NUMBER 37. to rush to her rescue ; but the clank ing chain of the maniac binds me. I try to break my bonds, but they clasp me ; and my hideous com panion, the phantom, jeers at me ; and I hear the voice of my beloved receding further and fuither from me, till, with an agonized moan, it dies away in the distance. And this the world calls fancy — the fantastic vision of a madman’s brain ! There was never a voice like her voice ; and though the winds rage tempestuously among the waving branches of the storm-tossed trees, I hear the liquid music of her ac cents above all, and I strain my eves to catch a glimpse of her per son, but there is nothing; and I crouch down again in my chains and my madness on my desolate bed, feeling how utterly—how en tirely, I am alone. An interruption occurred in our intercourse, in consequence of Sir Charles Tracey being obliged to go abroad, on business connected with the state. His lady accompanied him, and they were absent for some months. How I spent these months I scarcelv know. I avoided all so ciety —I felt moody—wretched— despairing. I grew violent. Re straint became necessary. Then, indeed, I knew that I was mad. — Life was a blank; and some weeks passed while this dark cloud was upon me. At last, though my recovery had been a work of time, I was called convalescent, and the violence of my frenzy abated. I heard with joy that Sir Charles and his lady had returned to town. I thought the hour would never come when I might set out on my visit. 1 flew, rather than walked to her residence. I felt startled and a larmed ns I trode the streets ; for I had not been out for monihs, and I fancied every man was staring at me—that every one knew I was mad ; hut the one darling hope of seeing her cheered me on. At Inst I reached the house. I was admitted ; and in a moment I was by the sideof Julia. She was looking pale and ill, but very lovely. I rushed towards her. I knelt by her side. I took her cold hand in mine, and kissed it ardent ly. A bright colour suffused her cheek. She endeavored to with draw her hand from my grasp ; but the demon was within me. I held that pale, small, fragile hand firm ly ; and pressed it again and again to my lips, and my throbbing, burst ing heart. I laughed aloud and wildly, and she looked at me fear fully. She had discovered my se cret, and she saw that I was mad . “You too have been ill?” she said. The honied accents of that be loved voice fell on my ear like dew to the parched flower. I was calm ed in a moment, and I endeavoured to look coldly on her who was life —hght—all to me in this world. 1 found she had been dangerous ly ill, and I felt, as I looked on her imperial loveliness, that she was not destined long for this world. Daily 1 saw her. I could not see enough of one I loved so desper ately ; and 1 feigned calmness while I endured agony—but my madness ruined me at last. One wretched day—l spoke to her of love. 1 told her of my de votion—my hopeless devotion for so many years. 1 knelt by her side. I passed my arm round her waist —and for one brief moment 1 rested my scorching, maddened brow up on her bosom. It was only a mo ment of reality—but an eternity of bliss in the recollection. I strained her fragile form to my breast. I kissed her pale cheeks— her brow—her lips. She moved not. 1 found she had fainted. I thought she was dead, and my brain reeled. I raised her beautiful form in mv arms, and laid her gently on a couch. She was like marble—so cold, and pale, and breathless. I called no one to my assistance —I was the madman, — the desperate, heart broken madman—and 1 saw before me the ruin I had wrought. How Jong this lasted 1 cannot tell; 1 only’ know my feelings were work ed to frenzy. I called upon her by name ; I conjured her to look at me, to speak to me once—but once more. I longed for tears to cool the burn ing heat of my brain. Inrnvagonv, I laughed and shrieked aloud fI could not control myself. bbe opened her eyes, those large, bright, lustrous eyes, and looked, I thought, kindly on me. How those glances entered my soul! “Speak to me, Julia, forgive me,'* I said. She smiled, and extended