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1 ~ m lull iif ill mu mum. mi iif uinuid. in mu uni if uni if jiiiiii. JOHN 11. SEALS, EDITOR & PROPRIETOR. NEW SERIES, VOL 11. TEMPERANCE CRUSADIR. PinsMSIJF.D EVERY THURSDAY. EXCEPT YEAR, BY JOHN H. • ‘ TERMS: f 1,00, in advance; or $2,00 at the end of the year. RATES OF ADVERTISING. 1 square (twelve lines or less) first insertion,. .$1 00 .Each continuance,— --- 50 Professional or Business Cards, not exceeding six lines, per year, 5 00 Announcing Candidates for Office, -3 00 ST AN DING ADVERTISEMENTS 1 square, three months, 5 00 1 square, six months, 7 00 1 square, twelvemonths, 12 00 2 squares, “ “ -- - 3 squares, “ “ -—2 l 4 squares, “ “ 25 00 Advertisements not marked with the number of insertions, will be continued until forbid, and charered accordingly. 23r*Merchants, Druggists, and others, may con tract for advertising by the year, on reasonable terms. LEGAL ADVERTISEMENTS. Sale of Land or Negroes, by Administrators, Executors, and Guardians, per square,— 5 00 Sale of Personal Property, by Administrators, Executors, and Guardians, per square,— 3 25 Notice to Debtors and Creditors, -3 25 Notice for Leave to Sell, —... 4 00 Citation for Letters of Administration,. 2 76 Citation for Letters of Dismission from Adm’n. 5 00 Citation for Letters, of Dismission from Guardi anship, - - - -3 25 LEGAL REQUIREMENTS. Sales of Land and Negroes, by Administrators, Executors, or Guardians, are required by law to be held on the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours of ten in the forenoon and three in the after noon, at the Court House in the County in which the property is situate. Notices of these sales must be given in a public gazette forty days previous to the day of sale. Notices for the sale of Personal Property must be given at least ten days previous to the day of sale. Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an Estate must be published/orfo/ days. Notice that application will be made to. the Court of Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Negroes, must be published weekly for two months. Citations for Letters of Administration must be published thirty days —for Dismission from Admin istration, monthly , six months —for Dismission from Guardianship, forty days. Rules for Foreclosure of Mortgage must be pub lished monthly for four months —for compelling titles from Executors or Administrators, where a bond has been given by the deceased, the full space of three months. will always be continued accord ing to these, the legal requirements, uiiffcss otherwise ordered. For the Crusader. The Marriage Contract. BY M A 1{ Y B . HR YAN’ . CHAPTER I. “And she too at the altar, gave up her cold wan hand, That shuddered as they circled it with an unwelcome hand.” “Did you ever see such coldness, such apathy on an occasion like this?” whispered the third bridesmaid ot‘ Margaret Leslie, as passing an arm around one of her companions, she drew her to the curtained window, and directed her. attention —by a meaning glance—to the bride elect, who stood before the mirror, as cold and white as the garland, her favorite attendant was twining in her hair. “I wonder,” she continued, “if it is real or as sumed ; you know how proud Margaret Leslie is, and how she always seemed to delight in being singular. Only see what a listless smile ; and she a bride; she looks more like a statue.” She did, indeed, as she stood there, so stately and motionless among her young attendants, the deli bridal robe falling around her in heavy waves of silver, jewels upon her white arms,'and pearls gleaming like stars among the dark hands of hair, shading her colorless brow. Occupied as had been the group of fluttering bri esinaid.s wiih all the pretty mysteries of their office, they hud not failed to remark the apparent unconcern, with which sire whatched the progress of her toilet.— Coming — by Mrs. Grantham’s request — at an hour, rather earlier than was customary, they had found the heroine of the night silting at the open window, still in her usual dress, with her loosened hair falling in rippling ma-ses around her, and her dark eyes gazing abstractedly out, seeming to look iuto the far off future rather than at the dis tant hills.” Rallying her upon her forgetfulness, they offered to assist her in the arduous task of edrssing, and smiling faintly, she resigned herself into their hands. “It is done,” cried little Jessie Cameron, as she threw aside the gossamer ve 1 with studied care lessness, and stepped back to observe the effect, — “The August preparations are -completed. Pray deign, my beautiful to bestow one glance at the mirror ami admire our handiwork. It is not eve ry day that one is privileged to he a bride you know. There now, did you ever see anything more regal ? These orange buds set one to dreaming of the tropics/and I am sure, never did glove fit a fairy hand more daintily, while this tsilvery veil but slightly swept aside’ is exquisite. Here % your bouquet j now ‘the Lamb is ready for the sacri fice.’” Thoughtless light-hearted Jessie, did not notice, as did Florence Aslily, the bitter smile that quiv ered on Margaret’s lip, as this last sentence leaped laughingly out. “Now,” continued the merry speaker, “as a re- ward for my s< (vices, I must have one last kiss from the lips of Margaret Leslie,” and with a glit ter, very like that of tears in her hazel eyes, she threw her arms around the'beautiful stately fbrm, and pressed a kiss Mpon the fair cheek of the bride. “May Heaven bless you dear Jessie,” exclaimed Margaret with sudden earnestness, “and may you •always be as happy as now. Hut there ! is that the door-bell ? The guests are beginning to ari/e. New leave me for awhile; I wish to be alone for the next few moments. Thank you all for ) T our kind assi-tance; without it I fear [ should have made poor progress.” “And what assurance have we, that upon our return, ‘the bride herself will jiot be wanting,’ asked Florence Ashly, lightly yet with a searching look of her penetrating eyes asshe turned to leave the chamber. A calm smile was Margaret’s only answer, and then as die door closed and she was all alone, she threw herself upon the fantueii and gazed into the glowing grate with such a weary helpless look in her dark eyes, while her white fringe** nervously tore away the delicate petals of the rose she held. Even thus she felt, was Fate scattering the hopes of her own young life. Rising, she opened a small casket upon the toilet and took from thence a ribbon bound packet of letters and a beautifully executed Miniature, representing a youth in the graceful-garb of a Student, the attitude carele-sly picturesque, the slight form perfect in its symme try, and the hand and arm, partially disclosed, of almost feminine beauty. Hut the face—it was one of strange, fascination—a face that would haunt one’s dreams after looking upon it, with its large eloquent eyes so full of youthful passion and so bright with ardent h-.pes the full red lips and broad white brow from which the rich wavy hair was carelessly swept aside. Resting her cheek upon her jeweled hand, Mar garet gazed long and earnestly upon the beautk fill picture, seemingly forgetful of the vows she was soon to utter, —of the emblematic wreath al ready encircling her brow-. Presently she arose, and with lips firmly compressed walked to the glowing embers and threw the packet of let ters upon them. “So perish the tokens of a vain, yet beautiful, too beutiful dream,” she exclaimed as leaning against the mantle, she watched the flames eurl around them. “Oh ! that I should have so little command over my own heart. How would my father, could he see me at this moment, blush for his daughter's weakness. Oh! that I could tear this haunting intake from my memory as easily as I can crush the pictured semblance,” and with a gesture, in which tenderness was strangely blended with firm determination, she seemed aljout to (ladl it from her, when a decided knock at the door arrested her hand, and a Lady of com manding-statue swept into the room in all the splendor of rich brocade and glittering jewels. She might have been of middle age, but art and fash ion had conspired to conceal the ravages of time, and there were no threads of silver discernible in I he glossy ringlets, escaping from her gossamer lace cap. “Ready are you Margaret?” she exclaimed, surveying the tout ensemble of her niece. “Let me see; your slipper needs lacing a little more tightly, and your dress, does not hang exactly right in front. ‘There that wid do,’ adjusting it herself. Those pearls are really elegantly set; as handsome a bridal present as I ever saw, but what is the matter child ! How pale you are! — Surely you are not frightened,” (for the passion less face forbade such a supposition.) “Who ever saw a bride without blushes ? Do consent now to let me give ju-t the slightest touch of rouge to your cheeks.” “Thank you; there is no need of it,” said Mar garet, the blood rushing suddenly to her brow, as steps were heard in the passage, and a moment after, Jessie came in to announce, that t hey were only waiting for the bride. With a few courte ously spoken words. Oswald Graham, as cold and stately as herself, recieved her at the door, and drawing her hand within his arm, followed the attendants into the thronged and brilliantly light ed room. As one in a dream, Margaret knelt and murmured the reposes, and then graceful as the fringe tree, bowed her acknowledgments to the congregations of those, that gathered round her, while her heart swelled with bitter feelings, aa looking around upon the throng of flatters, she met not one glance, save that of Jessie, that an swered her own with heart-felt love, and not one, upon whose bosom site might lay her weary head in confiding trust, when this gay scene was over to weep away the anguish that oppressed her, and rise str ngthen and by judicious counsel and loving sympathy. Alas, that with all her talents, a higher source of consolation was unknown to Mar garet Leslie! “How beautiful,” was the unspoken language of the admiring eyes that were bent upon Her as she stood before them, so coldly proudly radiant in her snowy robes, seeming a fit impersonation of the bride of winter. Later in the evening, she quietly withdrew froth the crowd, and as site stood concealed from view PENFIELD, GA„ THURSDAY,"JULY 23, 1857, by the sweepiug'tbtds of the damask curtain, a name uttered by someone near her, touched ‘a .chord of memory, and brought betbre her the im age of a sweet gentle girl she had known in child- L od. ...... “Why is not your cousin Anna here to-night, Florence ?” asked an unknown voice. “Anna Ashly,” was the fierce and impetuous re ply, “cannot so soon forget the past. She is not heartless like Margaret Leslie. Her womanly pride alone would have prevent'd her from dom ing to witness the marriage of the man she loved and who would have chosen her . had he been re leased fr<-m this mercenary contract-” The eyes that looked out upon the winter moonlight flashed with a sinister gleam as these words reached her ear. “So,” she thought, “he too has had his love dreams,” and the discovery, instead of awaking sympathy and pity —such is the perversity of human nature—aroused feelings of jealous indignation and resentment against the man who had persisted in marrying her even with a divided heart. She forgot that her own error was equal to his. A woman can forgive much to a man who loves her, and the uneoncious hope, that notwithstanding his reserve, Oswald was mot indifferent to her attractions, wa6 very soothing to Margaret’s vanity, but now this illusion was dis pelled. “Motives of base selfishness could alone have in fluenced him,” was her silent conclusion, “Rev erence for the dead did not render his promise, one of solemn sacred ness.” CHAPTER 11. ‘Here was a mind, deep and immortal, And it would not feed on. pageantry, And so she drank Philosophy awhile, Until it turned, bitter within her.’ A strange girl her young attendant had called Mar garet Leslie, and what marvel when she had known no nalural chihl-hcod ! When herjyouth had been passed in almost monastic seclusion, in a large dark, rambling old country mansion, with no com panions except an invalid mother, and a father, who was a metaphysician, a profound scholar, an intense student, everything but a fit mentor to guide aright the active mind of Ids child. Her reverential love for him amounted almost to idol atry. His calm, exclusive air, elegant person and more than all, his exhausiiess knowledge placed him,in her estimation, above common mortals.— She passed whole hours with him in his library, sharing his studies, bewildering her young mind with useless ethics, when she should have been gleaning sweet childish love from pretty fairy books. Learning German, reading Humboldt and Carlysle, and having the fresh fountains of youthful feeling first stirred by Goethe and Shelly, instead of by contact with real sorrow, that her charity might alleviate, or by the perusal of those touching ex amples of patient suffering, enduring love and tri umphant virtue, recorded by the pen of in-pira tion. But the father of Margaret Leslie, though he did not deny the truth of religion—was a stranger to its influence, and although he encour aged his young pupil to read her testament in Greek, it was more for the sake of the peculiar style, and his love for that most perfect of lan guages, than from a desire, that she should he profited by its momentous truths and solemn teach ings neglect of which renders vain, even the moral ity of Plato. The warmth of Mr. Leslie’s nature had been early chilled by a most uncongenial marriage.— Dazzled by mere personal beauty, he united him self to a woman, whom when too late, he discov er! to be infinitely his inferior in point of intellect. A pretty puppet, whose only source of happiness consisted in the adulation administered to her van ity by her coterie of flatterers, and when fading youth and beauty caused these to withdraw from her train, he saw her sink into inanity and use lessness, finding in ill health a plea for her sullen, and often petulent moods. Chilled and disap pointed, her husband took refuge in cold yet quiet misanilirophy. He never complained, never rail ed at the foibles and excesses of the world, in which he moved like one protected by a charm from human fraility and human feeling; but the smile that curled his lip—when witnessing any exhibi tion of passion or enthusiasm —was more expres sive than words. Since he was no convivialist, and the thousand and one diversions, with,’which fashion seeks to cheat the lagging time, afforded no aliment to a mind like his —the only resource left him was in literature. Study had always been a delight; it now bekine a habit, and to pursue it without interruption, he removed to a most re tired and picturesque country seat near the pretty town of Edgertoa; fitted up a luxurious apart ment for his wife, and.a'well furnished library for himself, and led .almost ihe lite of a hermit. The birth of a daughter first awakened his dormant feelings, and determining in her training to avoid the defeats of . her motherV education, he came very near falling into the opposite extreme. In his enflcaiSrbfs to cultivate to the utmost her quick and strong i ntellect, he forgot, that an education of the well as of the mind was levied. *HeKr he would’ say—placing some classical Volume in her hand, —“ypu will find beautiful ha- ,agery and flowing thoughts, but do not allow your feelings to be carried away by the warmth of some of the amatory expression*. Remember it is hut the licensed exaggeration of the Poet.” “Hut is there then no such passions as the love we read off the pupil would inquire, fixing her large eyes earnestly upon the pale, intellectual face —whose ever expression swayed her youthful judg ment. “We all, my dear, become to some extent at tached to those with whom we-arc thrown, into intimate or frequent contact—unless they are pos itively repulsive —this is right and natural, but as for that wild, vagrant Petrarch, and Laura kind of love, why my dear,- it is very pretty and appro priate in poetry and romance, but out of place in real life, where it exists only among silly and sen timental youths. Never found your hopes of happiness upon,the* exchange of any such transitory emotions. You remember Tappers, my mind tome a kingdom is? A well Cultivated intellect will afford you more real pleasure than all such idle dreams. I have said that Margaret had no companions in her cliild-hood, except her parents, but occa sionally there was one other—a young ward of Mr. Leslie—the son of his dearest, and earliest friend, who had been left to his care by the dying father. Oswald Graham spent his vacations at the home of his guardian, walked, read and rode with Mar garet, and paid her every courteous attention, while he remained as ignorant of the under current of her nature, as she was of his. Their friendship never ripened into intimacy, for Oswald possessed more titan ordinary boyish diffidence, and Mar garet was naturally reserved. It had long been the desire of Mr. Leslie ; by uniting his ward and his daughter, when they should have arrived at proper ages, to secure an excellent husband for Margaret, and at the same time to add to her pos sessions, the # fine Graham estate—adjoining his own. < Lwald was nineteen, Margaret four years young er, when Mr. Leslie was stricken with a malady which proved fatal, lie soothed the dispairing grief of his daughty with words of calm reasoning, and placing her hand in Oswald’s as they stood by his dying bed, revealed to his ward, the desire of his father, and his own long cherished wish, that they should he united. He then bound them by a solemn promise, had a formal contract drawn up. to which they affixed their tpmes, and a few hours after tranquilly breathed his last. Margaret be lieved herself animated by the spirit of a martyr, as kneeling hy his side, and clamping hit cold hand she uttered the binding vows, and though, while they were warm upon her lip*, she shrank from the touch of her young betrothed, she felt then that even if their fulfillment demanded the sacra fice of her own happiness, she would suffer rather than disregard the dying request of the father, she so idobtrouslv loved. Oswald moved bv the ap proaching death of his kind protector, and softened by MuTgaret’s tears, unhesitatingly made the re quired promise, after first reading a letter of his own father to Mr. Leslie, expressing a wish that the marriage should be consummated. With ten der respect he pressed the hand which had been placed in his own, and spoke a few low words of sympathy, that were lost upon Margaret, whose wild grief broke through the cold barriers of res traint, her peculiar education had thrown around her. A few weeks after this, the death of her mother completed her orphanage, and she was left to the care of an aunt —the widowed sister of her mother, and like a devotee of fashion and gayety, though with more vivacity and bustling energy. — The gloomy mansion at Willow-bank, was ex changed for her aunt’s luxurious northern home, where after two more years, spent in perfecting herself in studies which had now lost their chief interest, she entered into the gay arena of fashion able life, and dazzled by its unaccusomed splendor and display, fascinated by its constant excitement, so different from the quiet monotony of her pre vious life. She gave herself up to its pleasures with an enthusiasm, which wasjsoon succeeded by satiety, and then by disgust. She moved like an automaton among the gay crowds, where but for the air of haughtiness, which always accompanies conscious superiority —she would have been the reigning belle. To'satisfy the cravings of her mind, she resumed her studies and now, as a relief from the mercenary, calcula ting heartlessness of those around her, she turned to those thrilling disjript ions in poetry and romance of pure, ardent, and impassioned love, Onee, she have smiled at their hyperbole, but a change had come over her. Surely they thought such exalted emotions must exist elswhere, than in po etic fancy, and unconsciously she grew to cherish ing a desire, tnat she herself might become the object of such an absorbing passion. She no long er looked forward to the fuUfilment ot her early betrothed with tho hope that it would bring the .rest and quiet happiness she craved,and if rernem berance intruded upon the sweet firearms that were filling her heart with strange music, it was dismiss ed ns something belonging to the future. While ruralizing at Woodfern, and out sketch ing one evening upon the banks of the Claire, she Accidentally saw a younir Artist rescue a woman from the swollen wate s, and notwithstanding the jeers of his companions, (for the female was a inis erable out cast)-endeavor to restore animation to the wasted and nearly -lifeless fortn v To come for ward and offer her assi- tance, to express more by her eloqu nr eyes than by Words, her admiral ion of his heroism, and of the delicacy that hail prompted him to shield with hi* own handkerchief the half’exposed bust of the sufferer—was to obey an irresistible impulse. To be lrautved in her dreams that night, by the dark beauty of his eyes to meet again, not once, but often upon the-banks of the romantic river, to mingle thoughts and feel ings, till “They looked, though they never wero talking of love,” and then to quafl deeply :the intoxicating draught of youthful pas-ion, was but tile natural conse quence, attendant, upon the meeting of an ardent, impulsive worshipper of beauty, like Claude Mon trose, with one who realized lira boyish dreams, and whose heart was thirsting fur sffecti n. They parted a I but plighted lovers. Reverence lor the memory of her father, was still the most powerful feeling of Margaret’s nature, and she'did nut con ceal from her young lover,The promise she had made to him upon his death bed, and her deter mination to fulfill her part of the engagement. — Both were however, buoyed wish the hope, that her coldno-s might lead Oswald to refit-e an un willing bride, even if the years that had interven ed since their betrothal had not thrown some other spell over him, through whose influence he had for gotten the promise of his boyhood. Mr- Grant ham, who looked delightedly forward to a union which would rescue her niece an excelled Uestab lishment, and a husband admired and sought by her dear world, wrote to inform Oswald of the near approach of Margaret’s twentieth birth-day, (the time specified for the fulfillment of the contract) and to announce Iter intended visit to Willow-bank, where the marriage would be consumatod. Eea gerlv, Margaret waited fur the reply, but she was destined to disappointment. Though reserved and studiou-ly courteous, he did not decline the all.ance, and now the only remaining hope was, that her chilling demeanor might cause him to renounce his claim upon her. It would be no crime, for him she reasoned ; It was not a father to whom his vow was made. She arrived at the old, castle like home of her childhood, on the gloomiest of Autumn evenings, and the sigh of the wind through the ancestral groves, was in unison with her saddened spirits.— Her aunt immediately dispatched a note to Os wald Graham, informing him of their arrival. lie answered it in person, and greeted his Jianre with a warmth, which her manner suddenly chilled. — He was not handsome, but noble looking, and the features, she had thought stern and bard in the miniature she had in her possessions, lighted up_ like gas light in conversation, while there was a grave sweetness in his smile, which would have excited a feeling of interest in Margaret, had she not mentally compared it with the mirthful gleam ihat rendered so brilliant, the rich, classical beauty of Claude Montrose. lie said but little in refference to the engage ment, but acquired in all Mrs, Grantham’s arrange men', though he was silent and embarrassed when the marriage was spoken of; still, as he did not seem disposed to relinquish his claim upon her— Margaret wrote briefly to Claude, imploring him to forget the past as she must do, and entreating him not to communicate with her again, either by letter or in person. In a tew weeks the marriage took place with all due pomp and gayety. ‘Tt is my fate” said Margaret still to the sophis try she had imbibed, and yet, although she had herself given a cold loveless hand at the altar, it was the revelation, purposely! made by Florence Asbly, of Oswald’s attachment to her cousin, that added the roseleaf to the brimming cup of her hap piness. Such is the inconsistency of human nature 1 CHAPTER lir. “In the cold moonlight of her smile, What flowers of love could bloom!” “Willow Hank,” Mrs. Grantham had once said was too gloomy a spot for a bridal residence, and Mr. Graham surprised Margret, by taking her in stead to an elegant mansion upon Linden street, in the pretty, constantly improving town ot Edg erton, mechanically, the young bride wandered from room to room, treading upon soft carpets of woven roses, marking the heavy fall of the fring ed curtains, the mirrors, that every where reflected her richly robed figure, and the rare old picture, looking down opon her, from their carved and gilded frames. Her taste was gratified by the chaste eleganco of all that met her eye, but her heart was untouched, until putting aside the drape ry of purple, that curtained the entrance to an apartment rather isolated from the rest, she found in the fairy precincts, of a boudoir, fitted up with exquisite taste, the walls covered with silver and rose-color, the ornaments of rarest shell and ala baster, and above the mantle one beautiful picture representing Lear recovering his reason at the sight of Cordelia. Margaret’s fine eyes testified her admiration, but it was not until they fell up on a freshly gathered boquet of Jessamine and delicately tinted roses, lying upon the marble ta TERMS: $1 in advance; or, $2 at the end of the year. Of” —-—■ — • JOHN H. SEALS . PKOi'Kiirron. VOL. MILL-NUMBER 20. ble, that a sudden thrill of pleasure sent the color to her cheek; but it faded, when a few moments after, she calmly replaced it, saying. “It is prob ably a gitt from-Jessie; he has only sought to gratify his own pride, in fitting up his home with all this luxury, vvithou reference to me.” Re turning to the drawing room, she threw her&elf upon the divan, and rested her head with a listlqjsii air upon tne arm that leaned on its crimson cush ions. “It is not less a cage, that its bars are gild ed,” she murmured almost unconsciously. She started at hearing a low sigh behind her, and turning, beheld Iter husband, looking upon her with an Expression of sorrowful rebuke. He left the room without speaking, and Margaret, to still her reproving conscience, drew a chair to the flickering fire, and set herself seriously to consid ering some plan for her future conduct. She rea soned that since the step she had taken was irre trievable, repining and petulance were useless, and she recalled a couplet, often quoted by her father. “As one by one thy hopes depart, Be resolute and calm.” She remembered also, that when once in her childish ingenuousness, she asked if love were in deed a chimera, he bad replied, that a certain negative feeling of attachment, usually sprang tip between those whose interests were mutual, and whose intercourse was frequent. “With this I must be satisfied,” she said cal fitly to herself. “This luke-wann regard is all I can give, or have a right to expect. It is a marriage of convenience, there is no congeniality, or recip rocal feeling. Doubtless he still clings, ns I do, to some cherished dream ; but it does not follow that we should render ourselves miserable by indulg ing in vain regrets? No! ‘Rouse the heart, Bow of life, thou yet art full of spring, Thy quiver yet hath many purposes,’” and rising she opened the Piano, and began,a brilliant Opera air, whose gay tones floated into the darkened room, where her husband sat btrped in sad reflections. Oh! better had it been far Margaret, with less confidence in her own strength to have gone to her own quiet chamber, and un clasping her long neglected Bible, sought upon her bended knees for guiding light from a higher source than earthly wisdom. But Alas ! she had never been taught reliance upon Religion, aud had thought of it only as a beautiful and very perfect theory, whose practice—as her father once smilingly remarked —sat gracefully upon such gentle creatures as Anny Ashly. This early influence gave its jaundiced tinge to her every action. Fler father had spoken with contempt of the transient excitement of passion, in comparison to tho quiet happiness of a life spent in intellectual pursuits, and hoping there to liud relief, Margaret passed the long hours of her husband’s absence (for his wealth was not suffi cient to warrant bis retiring from his profession, even if he had chose to do so) in the well stored library, reviving her old studies, or else whiling away her leisure time in penuing the thoughts of her own richly cultivated and brilliant mind, to which effusions, memory of past scenes lent au impassioned fervor, notwithstanding the icy bauds of stoicisism, with which she endeavored to re strain her impulses. Except Jessie, she had no intimate acquaintances, for her fashionable friends, envying the talents they could not rival, noted her a strange creature and a has bleu, and after the first round of bridal calls, her visiting list gradu al! diminished. Her manner, when alone with her husband, was uniformly affable, and often agreeable, but never affectionate, or confiding.— ITis giant dignity and gentle strength of charac ter won her respect, and sometimes, while siting together in the subdued lamp-light; his rich voice giving utterance to some eloquent passsion; white she toyed absent’}’ with the bright Colors of Tier worsted work, the old yearning for affection and sympathy came over Iter, and she would have fain laid her head upon his bosom, and putting her arm around him, besought for nearer communion of hearts. But her pride forbade this, together with a certain impenetrable reserve in her hus band’s manner, which she was sometimes tempted to ascribe to diffidence, and then immediately “dis missed the idea, as promted by her vanity, forget ting that there was, in her superior talens and ac complishments, much to inspire this feeHng-r-in one, constitutionally disposed to underrate his own strong, earnest, though mediocre intellect. [To be Continued.) The Doom of our World. — What this change is to be we dare not even to conjecture ; but we see iu the heavens themselves some traces of des tructive elements, and some indications of their power. The fragments of broken planets—the de scent of meteoric stones upon our globe, the wheel ing comets welding their loose materials at the so lar surface-?-the volcanic eruption of our own sa tellite—the appearance of new stars, and the dis appearance of others —are all foreshadows of that impending convulsion to which the system of the world is doomed. Thus placed on a planet which is to be burnt up, and under heavens which are to paia away; thus treading, as it were, on the c<yn eteries, and dwelling in the mausoleums of former worlds —let us learn the lesson of humility and wisdom, if we have not already been taught it in the school of reevlation. — North British Review,