Not long before Mr. Morley's decease, he one day called Cordelia into his room, and with much solemnity committed to her care a diamond breast-pin of great value.

"It belonged," said he, "to my first wife, and is, as you may judge from the workmanship, of great antiquity, it having been in her family from time immemorial, and was, as she has often told me, worn by her grandmother's great grandmother, at the coronation of Queen Elizabeth. It now, by right, belongs to her only brother's eldest daughter, who resides in England, but it is my wish that you retain it two years, when my niece will be eighteen. At the expiration of that time, a person who has my entire confidence, will call on you, and deliver you a letter written by myself, which will instruct you to surrender the diamond into his hands. He will take proper measures to transmit it to the owner, or, if possible, will convey it to her himself.""

Cordelia readily promised to take charge of it, and to adhere to his directions as respected its future disposal. Her step-father then turned the conversation to the subject of her future union with his nephew, on which he dwelt long and with much complacency. Although Cordelia had now arrived at an age when she might be supposed capable of judging for herself relative to an affair involving her future happiness in life, she viewed it with indifference rather than the lively aversion with which she at present regarded it, and forbore to mention those objections which presented themselves to her reason, if not to her heart: loth to dim the brightness of the only earthly ray that appeared to cast a gleam of pleasure over the closing days of one who had been to her both faiher and friend. The change wrought in her feelings was owing to an accident which transpired about a year subsequent to Mr. Morley's de

cease.

At the time alluded to, Cordelia was journeying south with Mr. and Mrs. Allison, who, on their return, were going to take home their daughter Annette, then at a boardingschool. One morning, when they entered the stage-coach, several passengers had already taken their places. One of them, a young man, apparently about three and twenty, could not fail to attract attention. A clear, though somewhst dark complexion, a high and thoughtful brow, hazel eyes that appeared black when lit up by the light of the mind, a mouth of beautiful formation, disclosing by word or smile teeth of rare whiteness and brilliancy, all harmonizing in such a manner as to form an expression of countenance highly intellectual, served as a pas port to the heart, that caused it to yield far more readily to the charm of his graceful and polished manners, than if they had been joined with an unattractive exterior.

He was,

moreover, modest and unassuming-qualities

that sit gracefully upon the young of either sex-but, when drawn into conversation by Mr. Allison, his remarks, which were clothed in elegant and appropriate language, were original and full of thought, showing him, according to the promise of his countenance, to be possessed of a rich and vigorous intellect.

The two gentlemen kept up the conversation for some time with much spirit, when, at length, the subject being pretty well exhausted, Mr. Allison leaned back in the carriage and remained silent. Cordelia, who sat alone on the middle seat, had, as yet, scarcely spoken. The stranger gentleman, less weary than Mr. Allison, and feeling, perhaps, that ladies do not like always to sit silent, soon drew her into an easy, familiar chat upon such subjects as are naturally interesting to a female of taste and refinement. As the conversation gradually took a more earnest tone, he appeared to Cordelia to possess over her the power of an enchanter. The deep fountains of feeling were stirred in her heast, and those latent trea ures which had slumbered there, veiled even from her own perception, sent forth their light like the gem beneath the wave when touched by the sunbeam.

When she and her friends alighted at the hotel, where they were going to spend the night, the horses were already in harness which were to be exchanged for those then attached to the stage-coach. Mrs. Allison and Cordelia had just entered the hotel, when the interesting companion of their day's journey presented himself at the door.

"I was not aware," said he, ⚫ till I saw that all the baggage, except my own, was removed from the carriage, that you intended to remain here to-night."

Before either of them had time to reply, "The stage is waiting, sir," cried out ashrill voice in the hall. He tarried only to bid them a hasty adieu, and in a moment afterwards, the crack of the driver's whip, and the rattle of wheels, told that he was gone.

"I am sorry," said Mrs. Allison, "that my husband did not offer to exchange cards with him."

If Cordelia, like Mrs. Allison, failed to express her regret at not having ascertained his name, it was not because it was less lively. It was softened, however, by a strong presen, timent that they should meet again. She knew, when he bade them farewell, that his eye had last rested on her, and the language of that look never ceased to live in her me

mory and in her heart. Nor was he wholly ignorant of the interest which he had excited in the bosum of the lovely girl, who had been the companion of a day, although it had been carefully and vigilantly veiled by maiden delicacy. The perfume lingers round the spot, where nestles the open flower-bud,

and betrays its presence though hidden beneath moss and leaves. On her return from the south, Cordelia had gladly accepted an invitation from the Allisons, to spend several months with them, for, since the death of Mr. Morley, her home had seemed sad and desolate. The letter she had just received, the contents of which she had promised to communicate to Annette, was from Philip Morley, who had been in America several weeks. He wrote, that as with maturer years he had been led to reflect upon the subject, the thought had frequently occurred to him, that she might feel a repugnance at the idea of fulfilling a contract entered into when they were children, in compliance with the will of his deceased uncle. If so, he wished her to feel herself at perfect liberty to accept the hand of any gentleman whom she might honor with her preference; for, although he should thereby be deprived of affluence, with a good profession-that of a lawyer-and his present health, he doubted not his ability to obtain a competency. "It would not be treating you with the candour you have a right to claim," he added in conclusion, "were I not frankly to confess, that my heart is already in possession of anotherone, whom I am almost ashamed to say I have met with only once, and whose name and residence, after much inquiry, I have just learned. I intend, in two or three weeks, to call on you at your residence in N

and shall then feel myself bound to abide by your decision, whether it be to fulfil or break the existing contract.'

Seldom had Cordelia experienced such an exhilaration of spirits as after the perusal of this letter. The load, which for weeks had weighed down her youthful energies, was removed, and, like a bird newly escaped through some unexpected rent in the net that confined it, she seemed to revel in the balm and sunshine of a cloudless sky. The buoyancy of her spirits heightened the glow of her cheeks, and made ber fine eyes more lustrous, and those who saw her as she entered the drawing-room of Mrs. Forrester, felt, that in personal loveliness, she would find no rival except in Miss Eldron, the rich heiress, who had not yet arrived.

1

"She has come," was soon afterwards whispered, and all eyes were directed towards the door, while several young men gathered near it, that they might obtain a better view of her as she entered.

Yes, she was handsome! Her features seen in profile, were peculiarly beautiful, though sometimes her lips took an expression too haughty; and there were those who felt they could wreathe themselves into that sarcastic smile, which scorches and withers the heart on which falls its light. In her large black eyes that sparkled with the lustre of jewels, there was absolute fascination, and

few would have been attracted from them by those of Cordelia, in which the glimpse of a pure, etherial spirit lay mirrored, like the calm summer fountain. She leaned on the arm of a gentleman, who, in form and features, might have been considered a model of manly beauty. The attention he bestowed on his companion, was of that qu et, delicate, yet devoted kind, flattering to most female hearts, and undoubtedly so to hers, although she received it in a manner that said "it is my due." A close observer might have

seen, that on his first entrance, his eye quickly and searchingly scanned the features of those ladies present, in a manner different from what a person would have been likely to have done, whose devotion to the bright being at his side sprang from the heart, instead of being dictated by politeness.

"Who is he? what is his name?" was whispered on every side, but no one seemed able to give an answer. Cordelia and Annette, who, at the time of his and Miss Eldron's entrance, were in an adjoining apartment, look. ing at a portfolio of prints, now re-entered the drawing-room. Cordelia immediately knew him to be her acquaintance of the stage. coach, and as their eyes met, she felt assured that his memory was as faithful as hers. She was not mistaken. Handing Miss Eldron to a seat, he applied to Miss Forrester for an introduction to her. "Shall I have the pleasure of introducing to you Mr. Morley, Miss Ruthven," said she.

It would have been difficult to have told which was the most agitated at this unexpected announcement. Cordelia, for a few moments, was oppressed with faintness, and it was only by a strong effort, that she succeeded in assuming such a degree of calmness as not to draw upon her the eyes of the company. Morley, for a short time, stood silent and irresolute; he then said to her in a low voice, "Will you permit me to call on you to-morrow?" Cordelia bowed assent, and he rejoined Miss Eldron, around whom a number of gentlemen had already gathered, anxious to catch a word, a smile, or even a look. "I thought," said Annette, addressing Mr. Forrester, the son of the lady who gave the party, "that you were a professed admirer of beauty, and yet you seek not to kneel at Miss

Eldron's shrine."

Hudibras his wit-but we must not be censorious."

In the meantime, the subject of their comments having an object in view, put forth all her energies to achieve it. She wished to number Morley among those who wore her chains: not more on account of his decided superiority both in mind and person over all who had yet sought to win her favour, than because he was the only solitary individual who could retain his calmness and self possession, who ventured within the charmed circle of her influence. While those who looked on, imagined that the love-shaft was deep in his heart, she, with a keener and more jealous eye, could perceive, as far as she herself was concerned, it had, as yet, been only brushed with the feather. She had more than once half suspected that his heart was preoccupied with love for another. "Be it so," she said, "I shall yet see him at my feet." Dispensing with her natural hauteur, when she found it could neither wound nor humble, she exerted her powers of pleasing to the utmost, nor did she exert them in vain. She even surpassed herself. This she knew and felt, and if any thing derogated from the bewildering effect produced by such a combination of charms, it was that now and then a sudden gleam of light too dazzling, flashed from her eye, that seemed to say there was deep, perhaps, dark passions within; and which might have reminded the observer of the lightning that plays round a summer evening horizon, which, though harmless as brilliant, has yet its home in the clouds. She has just made some allusion, sparkling with playful wit, and turning to Morley with an arch smile, she challenged him to decide whether she was right or wrong. Suddenly the smile faded, and the rich lip, which a moment before had gathered round it such a world of sweetness, was pressed between teeth, beautiful as oriental pearls, till they were stained with blood. Morley had not even heard her remark, but had stood intently regarding Cordelia. A thought of triumph succeeded Miss Eldron's bitter vexation. "Yes," thought she, " I have now found the clue that will guide me to the heart of the labyrinth, and it shall not long hold my first and only rival."

Cordelia, artless as sensitive, from the moment she found that her companion of the stage-coach was no other than Morley, found it impossible to assume even the appearance of cheerfulness, and retreating to the most obscure corner of the room, with throbbing temples, and a colour on her cheeks planted by incipient disease, she painfully awaited the hour of departure.

The ensuing morning, according to appointment, Morley called on Cordelia as early as etiquette would permit; but after passing a sleepless and most restless night, she had

found herself unable to rise. Having no doulst but that Miss Eldron was the person Morley alluded to in his letter, she wrote a few lines with a pencil, releasing him from his engagement, which was handed him by Annette. Disappointed in not seeing Cordelia, he bent his steps toward the princely mansion of Mr. Eldron, to spend an hour in the company of his fascinating niece. He was, moreover, a little chagrined at being so unceremoniously released by Cordelia, now that she had ascertained that they had laboured under a mutual mistake. He thought that he had been more skilful in reading women's hearts.

He found Miss Eldron at home, and he had never before seen her so simply attired. The dazzling lustre that the flash of jewellery and high excitement had thrown over her features the preceding evening, had given place to a bewitching softness, which, to his mind, was a thousand times more enchanting. Without appearing to do so, she led the conversation to those subjects which would best display her cultivated taste, and the riches of her own strong intellect.

The conversation was soon interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Eldron, who placed in his niece's hand a small ebony box, inlaid with gold, saying, "It is your birthday, Anicia, and you will prize this trifling memento for the sake of the giver." Without awaiting her thanks, he passed out at a door that led into the garden. On opening the box, Miss Eldron found it contained a superb diamond ring.

66

"This must be a costly ring," said she. Are you skilful in diamonds, Mr. Morley?" handing it to him.

"No," he replied, "I have none of the skill of the lapidary, but this, to the eye, appears very splendid. I never saw but one diamond that I should think superior to it, and that surpassed any thing of the kind which I ever saw. There is not a Duchess in Britain who would not be proud to wear it." "And where did you meet with this king of diamonds?"

"It was in my late uncle's possession when I saw it, and had belonged to his first wife. Miss Ruthven has it now."

"Ah! I shall see it, then."

"No, it is not hers. It is only entrusted to her care for a certain time, and even if she were the owner, I think she has too much taste to wear so costly a jewel, as, with her limited means, she could not afford that her dress should at all compare with it."

The subject was now dropped, and music was mentioned; a theme upon which they both could be eloquent. The piano forte and the guitar were both present, and she could touch each with a skilful hand. She took up the guitar, and never did the high-minded and devoted Spanish maiden breathe to her national instrument a tenderer

or more impassioned lay. When, as died away the last note, she raised her eyes, their long black lashes heavy with tears, emotions of rapturous exultation thrilled her bosom, for the fine countenance of Morley beamed with a light which she knew must have been elicited from a deeper feeling than that of admiration. Could he have beheld the smile that curved her proud lip as she followed him with her eyes, as he slowly retreated down the shaded avenue which led to the high road, how soon would he have rent asunder the toils which she had commenced so artfully to weave around him.

(To be concluded in our next.)

Mother wants your sifter, and she says she guesses you can let her have some sugar and tea, 'cause you've got plenty.":

1

This excellent reason, "'cause you've got plenty," is conclusive as to sharing with your neighbours. Whoever comes into Michigan with nothing, will be sure to better his condition; but woe to him that brings with him any thing like an appearance of abundance, whether of money or mere household conveniences. To have them and not be willing to share them in some sort with the whole community, is an unpardonable crime. You must lend your best horse to qui que ce soit to go ten miles over hill and marsh, in the darkest night, for a doctor; or your team to travel twenty after a "gall;' your wheel-barrows, your shovels, your utensils of all sorts, belong, not to yourself, but to the public, who do not think it necessary even to ask a loan, but take it for granted. The two saddles and bridles of Montacute spend most of their time travelling from house to house a-manback; and I have actually known a stray martingale to be traced to four dwellings two miles apart, having been lent from one to another, without a word to the original proprietor, who sat waiting, not very patiently, to commence a journey.

Then, within doors, an inventory of your plenishing of all sorts, would scarcely more than include the articles which you are solicited to lend. Not only are all kitchen utensils as much your neighbours as your own, but bedsteads, beds, blankets, sheets, travel from house to house, a pleasant and effectual mode of securing the perpetuity of certain efflorescent peculiarities of the skin, for which

Michigan is becoming almost as famous as the land 'twixt Maidenkirk and John o' Groat's." Sieves, smoothing-irons, and churns run about as if they had legs; one brass kettle is enough for a whole neighbourhood; and I could point to a cradle which has rocked half the babies in Montacute. For my own part, I have lent my broom, my thread, my tape, my spoons, my cat, my thimble, my scissors, my shawl, my shoes; and have been asked for my combs and brushes and my husband, for his shaving apparatus and his pantaloons.

But the cream of the joke lies in the manner of the thing. It is so straightforward and honest, none of your hypocritical civility and servile gratitude! Your true republican, when he finds that you possess any thing which would contribute to his convenience, walks in with," Are you going to use your horses to-day?" if horses happen to be the thing he needs.

"Yes, I shall probably want them."

"Oh, well; if you want them-I was thinking to get 'em to go up north a piece." Or perhaps the desired article comes within the female department.

"Mother wants to get some butter: that 'ere butter you bought of Miss Barton this mornin'."

And away goes your golden store, to be repaid perhaps with some cheesy, greasy stuff, brought in a dirty pail, with, “Here's your butter!"

A girl came in to borrow a wash-dish," "because we've got company." Presently she came back: "Mother says you've forgot to send a towel."

"The pen and ink and a sheet o' paper and a wafer," is no unusual request; and when the pen is returned, you are generally informed that you sent" an awful bad pen."

I have been frequently reminded of one of Johnson's humorous sketches. A man returning a broken wheel-barrow to a Quaker, with, "Here I've broke your rotten wheelbarrow usin' on't. I wish you'd get it mended right off, 'cause I want to borrow it again this afternoon." The Quaker is made to reply, "Friend, it shall be done :" and I wish I possessed more of his spirit.

THE OPOSSUM HUNT.

From the Novel of "SWALLOW BARN."

WHEN Carey came into the parlour, he pulled off his hat and made a profound bow; and then advanced to the back of Ned's chair, where, in a low and orderly tone of voice, he made the following grave and interesting disclosure; namely, that the boys, -meaning some of the other negroes that belonged to the plantation,-had found out what had been disturbing the poultry-yard for some time past: that it was not a mink, as had been given out, but nothing less than a large old 'possum that had been traced to a gum-tree over by the river, about a mile distant: that the boys had diskivered him (to use Carey's own term) by some feathers near the tree; and, when they looked into the hollow, they could see his eyes shining like "foxfire." He said they had been trying to screw him out, by thrusting up a long stick cut with a fork at the end, (an approved method of bringing out squirrels, foxes, and rabbits from their holes, and much in practice in the country,) and tangling it in his hair, but that this design was abandoned

VOL. I.

under the supposition that, perhaps, Master Edward would like to hunt him in the regu lar way.

Ned professed a suitable concern in the intelligence; but inquired of Carey, whether he, as an old sportsman, thought it lawful to hunt an opossun at midsummer. This interrogatory set the old negro to chuckling, and afterwards, with a wise look, to putting the several cases in which he considered a hunt at the present season altogether consonant with prescriptive usage. He admitted that 'possums in general were not to be followed till persimmon time, because they were always fattest when that fruit was ripe ; but, when they could'nt get persimmons, they were "mighty apt" to attack the young fowls and cut their throats: That it was good law to hunt any sort of creature when he was known to be doing mischief to the plantation. But even then, Carey affirmed with a "howsomdever," and "nevertheless," that if they carried young, and especially a "'pos sum, (which has more young ones than most other beasts,) he thought that they ought to be let alone until their appropriate time. This, however, was a large male opossum,

Q