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THE FRIEND OF TIIF FAMILY. VOLUME 11. €l)t jFricttii nf f'jic jhituilt}, A Weekly Southern Newspaper, PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY, BY EDWARD .T. PURSE. iER M S : 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 be inserted nt 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 cards inserted for a year at Five Dollars. rfA liberal discount will lie made to Post j Masters who will do us the favor to act as Agents. Postmasters are authorized to remit mo hov to Publishers and all money mailed in presence of the Postmaster, and duly for warded b him, is at our risk. rr ah communications to be addressed j (post-paid) to E. J. PURSE, Savannah, Ga. FALLIG-ANT & TAYLOR, CONTRACTORS & BUILDERS, Shop corner Whitaker and Perry Streets, j an 4 ly SAVANNAH. W. S. LAWTON & CO., Warehouse & Commission Merchants, MACON, GEORGIA. LAWTON & DOWELL, FACTORS & COMMISSION MERCHANTS. No. 210 Ray St. Savannah, Ga. Tender their Services to their Friends and the Tiihlie nov2 W. S. WILLIFORD, Auction fy Commission Me?chant, MACON, GA. O* All kinds of Merchandise and Produce [except Liquors] received on Consignment.ot Pur chased to Order. 1 yr nov 2 CLASSICAL & ENGLISH SCHOOL. No. 159 Broughton-St. BERNARD MALLON, Principal. J. 11. LUTHER, A. M., Classical Teacher. MISS V. JONES, Assistant. nov 9 GEO. M. WILLETT & CO., DEALERS in GROCERIES , WINES, LIQUORS, TOBACCO, SEG.4RS, FRUIT, PICKLES, Preserves, Confectionary, \ Garden Seeds. All kinds of Fish and Oysters, when in season. No. 68 St. Julian and 101 Bryan Streets . J P. A. Dcpo.n, \ (Waring’a Building.) John R. Tebeaw, $ nov 3 BOOK AND JOB PRINTING. GEO. N. NICHOLS, (Owens Building, opposite the Pulaski House,) SAVANNAH, GA. Is prepared to execute all work in his line, with neatness and despatch, and in a style not to be surpassed. Prices as reasonable as any other establishment in the city. ly sept 28 G-. BUTLER, MASTER BUILDER, DEALER IN WHITE PINE LUMBER, York Street, Oglethorpe Square. N. U.—He is prepared to put in Iron fronts in Stores, &c. ly nct T? T. R. CLARKE, FASHIONABLE BOOT MAKER, Next door to corner Bull and Broughton-sts. •ct 10 ly A. PONCE, Importer and IManufacturer of Segars, No. 13 Whitaker Street, Keeps on hand a well selected stock ot impoited j Betjars ; also Manufactured Tobacco, Snuff, I ipes, ud all other articles usually kept in his line ot business, which he offers on the most reasonable terms. ly ocl E. T. SHEFTALL, ATTORNEY A T LAW, may 2.) DUBLIN, GEORGIA. MEDICAL NOTICE. DOCTOR MOREL. Office No. 157 Brough ton Street. ts mar 23 J DE MARTIN, DEALER IN Fruits, Wines, Liquors, Segars, PICKLES, PRESERVES and GARDEN SEEDS. —: also: — APPLES, ONIONS <s• POTATOES, When in season, received fresh by ex cry vessel. —: also: — Oysters put up to order in from 1 to 10 gallon kegs. Corner of Bay and \V bitaker Streets, JOHN OLIVER, HOUSE AND SIGN PAINTER, GILDER, GLAZIER, &c., JV#. 121 Broughton Street, a few doors east of Whitaker Street, Savannah, (ia. All kinds of Paints —Paint Oil, Turpentine, Varnish, Glass, Putty, &c., for sale. July 20 EDWARD G. WILSON, JUSTICE OF THE PEACE, Conveyancer, Collector, Accountant 4* Copyist, Office under .T. M. Haywood’s. tiT Return Day. Wednesday, January 22d. COLLINS & BULKLEY. Importers and Dealers in CROCKERY CHINA <fc GLASS WARE, FAMILY Harrtwaie, Table Cutlery, Wood and | Willow Ware, Lamps, Lanterns, Wicks, &c., Also, Camphine and Burning Fluid, Together ; with a great variety of Fancy and House Furnish- I hing Goods, at Low Prices. No. 100 Brvan St., Savannah, Ga. J. r. COLLINS, ) T. A. BULKLEY. ) nov 2 MRS. SILBER, MILLINER <s* DRESS MAKER No. 157 CONGRESS STREET, Has the pleasure of informing the BmP Ladies, that she has returned from New York with a beautiful assortment of Silk Pattern Bonnet-*, all colors, Straw, Leghorn, and New Fashioned style of Jen- Lind Bonnets. French Flowers and Ribbons, °f the latest styles, and a general assortment of lancyjGoods and Trimmings. Also the Latest I” ishion of Silks, Cassimere, Moustine de Lane h*.., he, oct 26 Denote to 1 iterature, Iriutre unit Jlrf, tjje lons nf (Trmperniire, (Dili Jtllanisijiji, Jtennrtj unit tlje Jims nf tjje llaif. P. JACOBS’ SEGAR MANUFACTORY, No. 27 Bull Street. IHE SUBSCRIBER keeps on hand at all times the best Brands oi Havana Segars, and is ready to fill orders tor Country Merchants and others, as low as any other establishment in the Cit'. He also Manufactures Segars nf various quali ties, and has on hand the best of Chewing Tobac co, Snuff, &c. Segar holders, Pipes—common and fancy—Port Monies, Segar Cases, Tobacco, 1 ouches, &c. Orders from the Country wiil be punctually attended to. nov 2 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, l;j BARNARD STREET. All kinds of Copper, Tin and Sheet Iron Work, done in the best manner, at the shortest notice. p pt 21 l yr ALLEN & BALL, FACTORS & COMMISSION MERCHANTS, No. 112 BAY STREET, SAVANNAH, GA. J. M. BALL & CO., Commission fH ercfta nt s, MACON, GEORGIA. ROBERT A. ALLEN, JANIES M. BALL, sept 20 iy N. ELLS, FASHIONABLE BOOT MAKER, No. 101 Broughton-st., near the corner of Bull-st. oct 12 ts JONES & PAPOT, Shipwrights, Spar Makers, AND CAULKERS. Yard opposite R &. J. Lachlison’s Foundry. R. H. DARBY, rmr jmL. at ■ m m „ Corner 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 4- 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, junc 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 LA W, Office, No. 185 Bay-Street. FRANCIS WAVER, IMPORTING & COMMISSION MERCHANT, No 107 Bay Street, Savannah, Geo. PHILIP KEAN, DRAPER AND TAILOR, AND DEALER IN READY MADE CLOTHING. Penfield's Range, No. 98 Bryan Street, Store formerly occupied by J. Southwell & Cos. J. T. JONES, MANUFACTURER AND DEALER IN Dublctfc Single Guns, Rifles, &c., West Side of Monument Square. A SHORT, MASTER BUILDER, Will take contracts for Building and Work in Masonry of every description. Corner 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 of I. W. MORRELL’S Furniture Store. june 1 ly I. SOLOMONS, Agent. CLOTHING, PIERSON & HEIDT offer for sale CLOTHING, Wholesale and Retail, at New fork juices. No. 10 Whitaker Street. apl 26 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 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. Emmenagosrues, 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, Wholesale and Retail. First quality Thunderbolt Oysters, Fish, &c. Newark refined Champaigne Cider, and Albany Cream Ale, by the bbl. tUP Orders from the Country, accompanied by the cash or City reference, punctually attended to ang 9 G. M. GRIFFEN, £2* HAVING purchased the stock in trade of thelate M. Eastman, would solicits the con i patronage of all the friend of the ■ establishment. All customers shall be pleased I with goods and satisfied with prices. GEO. M. GRIFFEN- N. B.—W atches and Chrometers will receive i the personal attention of Mr. G. as usual, j sept 12 DAGUERREOTYPES. P. M. CARY would respectfully give notice to the | public that his Rooms, corner Bryan Street and ! Market Square, are now open, where he will be happy to wait upon all persons who would have 1 their pictures well taken. dec 7 Idwttlr |*>aetnj. TO MARY IN HEAVEN. BY ROBERT BURNS. Thou lingering star, with less’ning ray, Thatlov’st to greet the early morn, Again thou usher’st in the day My Mary from my soul was torn. O Mary ! dear departed shade ! Where is thy place of blissful rest? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear’st thou the groans that rend his breast? That sacred hour can I forget, Can I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love? Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past; Thy image at our last embrace! Ab, little thought we’t was our last! Ayr girgling kissed his pebbled shore, O’er hung with wild woods thick’ning green; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twin’d amorous round the raptured scene, The flowers sprang wanton to be prest, The birds sang love on every spray, i ’Till too, too soon, the glowing west Proclaim’d the speed of winged day, Still o’er these scenes my mem’ry wakes, And fondly broods with miser care ! Time but the impression stronger makes, As strenms their channels deeper wear. My Mary, dear departed shade ! Where is thy place of blissful rest ? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear’st thou the groans that rend his breast ? THE CHASE. The stag, at eve, had drunk his fill, Where danced the moon, on Monan’s rill, And deep his midnight lair had made In lone Glenartney’s hazel shade; But, when the sun his beacon red Had kindled, on Benvoirlich’s head, The deep mouthed bloodhound’s heavy bay Resounded up the rocky way, And faint from farther distance borne, Were heard the clanging hoof, and horn. As chief, who hear his warder call, •‘To arms! the foemen storm the wall,” The antlered monarch of the waste .Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. But, ere his fleet career he took, The dew drops, from his flanks, he shook; Like crested leader proud and high, Tossed his beamed frontlet to the sky ; A moment, gazed adown the dale, A moment, snuffed the tainted gale, A moment, listened to the cry, That thickened as the chase drew nigh; Then, as the headmost foes appeared, With one brave bound, the copse he cleared, And, stretching forward, free, and far, Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var. [Scott. frlrrteii Cult. [From Mrs. Ellis’ Morning Call. SELF-DECEPTION; OR, THE HISTORY OF A HUMAN HEART CHAPTER VI. Os all the curious phenomena presented by the lives of self-de ceivers, the manner in which they sometimes deal wiih bodily pain is at once the most surprising to look ers on, and the most fertile in sources of mistrust and suspicion. It is almost impossible, for instance, on some occasions, to believe in the things they can do, and the things they cannot do, according to the prevailing inclinations of the mo ment, although they may really be lieve in such ability or inability themselves. Indeed their own be lief is not unfrequently so strong, that they can resist one moment every importunity of their friends to refrain from doing lhat, which, under slightly different circumstan ces, yet with the same amount of physical ability, they declare them selves incapable of doing the next. Inclination, in this manner, works miracles upon the self-deceiver, often calling up from the couch of weakness and languor the debilita ted form, and imparting that pleas ant stimulus to all its energies which neither draught nor globule had been able to supply. Such was the effect of various and alternating influences in the case of Elia More, that in process of time those attacks of pain which were the consequence of her acci dent, assumed so dubious and fluc tuating a character, lhat her malady might almost have been described as one of intermittent sprain, or re mittent, rather, for there was no cal culating beforehand when the pa roxysms might come on, or when there might be a cessation from pain altogether. Sometimes, as has al ready been described, she was able to perform wonders, to sit up late, to stand long and patiently, and even to walk when there was the right arm to lean upon ; while at other times her inability to use any exertion was greater than her friends were prepared to expect. SAVANNAH, GA., SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 1, 1851. On one occasion especially, when Frazer Cunningham had announced his final determination to leave the Highlands in two days from that lime, it seemed as if Ella was re stored by miracle, for she almost immediately expressed a desire to have one ride more —just one, up a wild romantic pass in the moun tains, and back by the shores of a beautiful lake. Os course her friends exclaimed as much or more than when she spoke of setting out for London, for there was no duty in this case, nothing but pleasure, and that, too, of a somewhat doubtful and dangerous character; for all the Stuart family had learned to ap prehend some mischance when the two wild riders were out together. Unfortunately Mr. Stuart was still detained from home. Ella had con sequently the ladies of the house hold only to contend with, and these she overcame by her affectionate and always winning method of pleading for the indulgence of her wishes, if that might be called over coming, which only prevented the open exercise of authority in a posi tive refusal to let her go. Besides which, in order to the accomplish ment of her purposes, Ella had al ways had so many arguments ready, she could make such self-denying protestations too, for she was no real hypocrite, only a self-deceiver, that in addition to her irresistible smiles, and soft and playful caresses, she might almost, had her heart been fully set upon it, have coaxed the money out of the miser’s hoard. Neither Mrs. Stuart nor Agnes were able to bear up against this persuasion, although their minds in secret remained the same ; and al though Ella assured them that they quite misunderstood her in sup posing lhat she wanted actually to ride, that she was only intending to creep along at a snail’s pace, that her lame ancle reposing against the saddle would really be rested rather than fatigued—lhat it u’ould only be once—this once—that she should soon be far away in the dark dull city, and might never see the dear Highlands again, that she had a perpetual headache from want of exercise, and wanted so sadly to breathe the fresh pure air again ; that she was going home to a sick room, and to long, long nursing there—nobody knew how long; and although her voice, when she said this, fell low, and her dark eyelashes lay heavy and thick upon her lovely cheek, over which a tear or two stole down—still, while they offered no longer any open resist ance, the mother and daughter re mained of the same opinion—that their young guest would he a great deal belter at home that day, and that they should have entertained a much better opinion of her alto gether, had she never attempted to wheedle them out of the reluctant permission, which they yielded at last, but for which they blamed themselves severely while they did so. A consent, however, it was, so far as words might be made to im ply one ; and on a bright and beau tiful morning Ella More set out upon her last excursion in the High lands. Gladly would Mrs. Stuart have sent a trusty servant with the two equestrians, hut this they both declined, promising at the same time, and that with all sincerity ot purpose, that they would only ex tend their ride to a certain specified distance, and never quicken their speed beyond a walk. Thus, then, the two equestrians set out to ride together, as they pathetically said, “ for the last time ;” and yet they did not appear very sad about the matter either. — The fact was, they were too much occupied with present pleasure to realize the full meaning of those words, by some hearts so truly and so deeply understood— the last time! Life had thus far brought no last times to them—all was first —first impressions, first enjoyments, first hopes. In these their short expe rience was so full and rich, that they could well afford to talk about the “ last time,” as those may tell of gathering the last rose who know lhat fresh roses will be blooming in its place on the morrow. Still it is a mistaken, and there fore a sad experiment, to purchase pleasure at the price of doing wrong ; and if the two equestrians were less happy in their mountain ride that day than they had been before, it was not altogether owing to the near prospect ot separation, but in fact to a lurking conviction, which neither confessed to the other, that they ought not to have been there. In these feelings of sadness na ture appeared not to sympathise, for never had a more brilliant morning dawned upon the lakes and moun- tains of that romantic land. Nor was the distance only illuminated by the beams of a cloudless sun.— .The still waters by the side of which they rode, lay beneath them like molten silver, while through the in terstices of the drooping boughs of ash and elm, stole in bright rays of golden sunlight which danced upon the feathery fern, or glistened in the pebbly brook, or gilded the green moss upon the cold grey stone, making the mountain side, or forest glade, or rocky bed of wan dering burn, a scene of almost magic brilliance, such as the travel ler stops to gaze at, lost in wonder and delight to see a world of beauty so close at hand, encircling his very feet, and wooing them to wander on and rest beneath the shade, upon the velvet turf, or by the brink of crystal streams, refreshing both to eye and ear—their clear waters ever and ever making soft music as the}’ flow. It is no trifling recommendation to the scenery of this cloudy, misty isle of ours, and especially to that portion of it which lies north of the Tweed, that it surpasses many oth er countries in the beauty of its foregrounds. Other lands may sup ply the painter with scenes for sketching outlines, blue distances of sea and sky, and landscapes with all the mellow, rich, and gor geous tinting of a sun-illumined at mosphere; but no painter would mar those pictures by telling the ac tual truth of their foregrounds; no painter would disfigure his canvass by that interminable length of straight and dusty road, hemmed in on either side by thick high walls, over which the weary traveller tries in vain to peep, in order to catch a glimpse of the splendid scenery with which he supposes himself to be surrounded, but for any distinct idea of which, he is in reality more indebted to bis guide-book, than most travellers would like to ac knowledge. Os course there can be no journey made through a ro mantic, and especially through a mountainous district, without occa sional elevations, from whonce the view is such as to make amends for a whole day suffocation, dust, and despair in the valley; but still for the most part the foreground in warm dry climates is arid, hare and often absolutely ugly, filled up more frequently with spectacles of disgust and weariness, than with ob jects of beauty. What painter, for instance, ever put into his picture those melan choly specimens of humanity—the old women of Italy—sun-dried and shrivelled, with their loose, un combed, uncovered hair, whitening in the heat and glare of that volcan ic climate ? who depicts those mon strous forms of human suffering, imbecility,or distortion, which often are the only objects visible upon the long line of road, and which lie there in a kind of half alive con dition, struggling to attract the eye of the passing traveller, and making all their feeble or convulsive efforts tell to the one purpose of extorting money from his purse? Does the painter ever put into his picture the heaps of refuse, the filth, and the disorder lying around the doors of all the humbler dwellings in some of these far-famed scenes of beauty and poetic interest? No; the paint er knows an art beyond the mere imitation of what he sees, he knows what is issential to the perfect beau ty of what is only beautiful in part, and thus he keeps in reserve a never failing supply of images adapted to the foregrounds of his pictures, and harmonising with the general tone and character of his distant scenes. Deeply versed in the requirements of his art, he plants an aloe here, places a mass of rock there, and drives around them a few straggling goats. He hangs over the dull and dismal wall that never ending dra per}", with its broad stripe of rich and glowing color. He dips a fish erman into the water’s edge, and half launches his rude boat, which also has the same drapery with broad bright stripes. He opens a fountain in the mountain’s side, and invites to stand beside it the Roman woman with her head-gear broad and flat and white, and with her pitcher or vase resting on the carved stone of the fountain, to which, as well as to the head-dress of the women, he manages to give a clas sical effect. Above all he plants the stone pine beside a mass of rock or ruin, draws it up with a tall bold stem, gives it a flat and busby head, and then the painter’s work is done. But for the traveller it remains to find out what does grow there—what does lie, rot, or grovel in the fore ground, or at the base of those mag nificent hills. For this reason it is—simply be cause of the ugliness of the real foregrounds, that most English travellers, on first going abroad, ex perience a degree of disappoint ment, and often of disgust, where they were prepared to feel nothing but adi niration and delight; and in the same degree, travellers from the Continent, and indeed from many different and distant portions of the globe, on first visiting England, are so enchanted with the beauty of all immediate objects, as to ima- | gine themselves passing through a perpetual garden. That universal green, which charms the eye of the traveller in England, is not perhaps the aspect of nature best calculated for the painter’s art; and Scotland, especially, rich as that country is in all those bold and varied outlines which the artist delights in, has too much to cloud and damp in her gen eral atmosphere, to afford the col ouring required for a painting to please the eye. It is for the travel ler especially lhat her beauties are unfolded. It is for the traveller that her misty skies produce a feast of beauty to the eye, which never can he produced by a climate which is clear and dry. It is to the traveller that she exhibits those fai ry glimpses of moss and fern which so often convert the side of the rude mountain, the carpeting of the wild forest, or the margin of the gushing torrent, into a perfect scene of enchantment. It is here that the wild rose blooms in perfection, blushing more deeply than else where, with a consciousness of her own surpassing loveliness. It is here that the native birch hangs out her graceful drapery, clothing with her delicate fringe of drooping boughs the dark brow of the sterile rock, while her white and wand-like stem gleams up amidst the blocks of hoary granite, giving a lightness and a beauty to the scene which art would strive in vain to imitate. And then those glorious streams which intersect a rocky and rain washed country —from the wimp ling burnie of Scotland to her full and fresh flowing rivers—what a voice do these give to her mountain solitudes, what a living charm do they impart to the course of the traveller as he threads the mazes of some broomv wilderness, wan ders amongst the purple heather, sits down upon the green brae to watch the eddying torrent in its flow, or traces with his eye, from the lofty mountain crag, those lines of silver beauty which wind along the different valleys? The ful ness, and abundance of these water-courses should never be for gotten when we complain of the clouds and mists of Scotland , nor would it be amiss sometimes, when disposed to murmur at the varia bleness or gloom of her climate, to compare these crystal rivers with the thick and lazy flow of the yel low Tiber enclosed within its banks of mud; or even with that of the classic Arno, as a substitute for whose farfamed and poetic si ream, the traveller must often be content to find little more than a dry bed of gravel, with one small stripe of running water. Even this is denied to many of the celebrated streams in sunnier climates than our own, through a large portion of the year, when a dull grey line of sand or gravel remains as the only repre sentative of a river, to tell where its waters once have been. In short, the scenery of Scotland wants nothing but a clear sky to ren der it perhaps the most beautiful on earth ; but if with a brighter atmos phere, thegreenness and the growth of those innumerable plants adorn the foreground of her landscapes, and the musical flow of her abun dant srteams would have to be sac rificed, there are few who would not rather have her rains and torrents, her mists and her ferns, her storms and her pines, with her alternations of shade and sunshine, revealing ob jects in themselves so beautiful, that if the picture is soon veiled again, and the glorious panorama of lakes and mountains often hidden from the view, the impression, the mem ory, the love, which these scenes create, remains with the heart for ever. But to return to our story, for we have the inner world of human feeling to describe, rather than the outer world of nature’s beauty. If either of the young travellers who had set out on the day’s excur sion already described, was capa ble of receiving any deep or lasting impression from the scenery around them, it was Elia More; but to her these impressions were but faint and fitful as dreams, so that when ever her mind did really wake to the loveliness of the scenes which lay stret’ hed around her, it was very much as a child awakes to the morning light rubbing its eyes to see it more distinctly, glad that it is come, glad lo arise and go out into the broad sunshine, yet thinking of itself all the while, of what it shall do or enjoy, and especially of how much good for itself it shall be able to draw out of another long sum mer’s day. The present summer’s day seemed likely to be all too short lor Ella More, and vet as she rode along the side of a placid lake, catching at intervals bright glimps es of the silvery waters through the drooping foliage of trees, which with their out stretched arms on one side overshadowed her path, and on the other hung above the lake—as she passed slowly along with alternate sunlight and shadow falling on her head,there wasa sense of sadness about her heart, which for some lime she vainly attempted to get rid of by laughing as much as she could at all that was jocose in the conversation of her compan ion and of this there was generally more than enough. In spite of herself, however, laughter this day died away upon Iter lips, almost be fore there had been time for it to be taken up, and whispered again by those soft echoes which sometimes seem to run like quick spiris along the mountain sides. Ella persuaded herself that the heaviness of heart by which she fell oppressed was ow ing to the near prospect of separation from her friends, but it was too hea vy for that—too leaden and depres sing in its weight; it made her heart sore too, as some heavy burden galls the traveller, and thus adds smarting pain to the weariness of long travel. Above all, it turning her thoughts prepetuallv to her father, and when she passed acci- upon the road, a little barefooted girl, leading a blind man, and guiding him carefully over the stones and water-courses, she recal led the lime when she used to wait upon her own father, to read to him, to sit beside him, to fetch him what he wanted,and then to receive her reward in the soft pressure of his hand upon herhead, or his affec tionate kiss upon her cheek. In fact Ella wishes she had not seen that little girl guiding the steps of her blind father. It wasa beauti ful sight, but it made her feel more uncomfortable than before; and she began to wish that she had not gone out for her own pleasure, but had taken ihe good advice of her friends, and had remained at home to prepare for her journey to London, which she now determin ed to set out upon without loss of time. Ah, what good resolutions we can form when conscience kind ly makes us miserable for not hav ing formed and acted upon them before ! 1 hc.>c thoughts made Ella more than usually silent duiing the latter portion of that day; and hut that hot e\c>, whenever she directed them lo the countenance of her companion, spoke many things which pleased him quite as well as words, he would have thought her very absent and inattentive to that fund of pleasantry which he was not much in the habit of finding had not the power to please. All these regrets, however, in the mind of Ella, were lost sight of on their return home, when making their last turn in a winding mountain path which led down to the vallev where Mr. Stuart’s residence was situated, the two travellers came at once upon a far-stretching western view, wdth the declining sun wrap ped in his mantle of golden clouds immediately before them. Be tween the distant horizon and the promontory of high ground on which they stopped to gaze on the splendid panorama before them, lav a long perspective of mountain slopes, terminating in a green val ley spotted here and there with vil lages, cottages, and cultivated plots of ground—here and there with the grouping together of tall pines with their red stems and branches gleaming like warriors a med in the sunlight—while per haps, more beautiful than all, might be seen in tlie thickly wooded in terstices of the hills the stealing cataract, silent in its far distance, curling down into the deeper tor rent, and then dischnrcinsr its waters into the broad lake waveless ns a sea of gold, over which the dark mountains seemed to haiv their majestic heads, as if in the act of contemplating their own re flected forms in the deep waters be low. “I shall never behold this scene again !” said Ella More, in a tone ol \oice which was less in harmo ny with tier young and blooming countenance, than prophetic of a destiny, of which at this moment, for the first time in her life, she might seem to have some vague presentiment. “1 shall never ba- NUMBER 47.