tured this suspicion. Farther words soon brought on provocations and personalities; and Laura, piqued, in her tender point, and flying into a rage like a little West-India tornado, stood forth in the midst of the room, and began to assert her innocence by demonstration. She tore loose her hair. It was her own, jet as the raven's, and fell about her fine form, in glorious vindication of its genealogy. Her countenance was flushed with indignation, and she was perfectly beautiful: Voyez, messieurs, si c'est du coton!' And then she obliged us both to pinch her hips, in several places, in reparation of her honor. The landlady, also, took part; and our peaceful assembly, by this unlucky slur upon ladies' hips, was broken up, like the Diet of Augsburg, in a rumpus. I now took leave, having engaged to conduct my one acquaintance, 'little M.,' to Vauxhall, where the entertainments were to commence at twelve. I took leave, however, in good humor with Laura, who said: 'I hope, Sir, when you will have the pleasure to see me again, my mother will be well.'

VAUXHALL is a rural retreat, two miles south from the palace, and a place of resort since near a century; where you have eating, drinking, especially punch; dancing, singing, playing, fire-works, and a miscellaneous collection of all nations:

"Turks, Jews,

Greeks, Romans, Yankee-doodles, and Hindoos!"

The trees sparkle with variegated lamps, thick as the fire-flies of the Dismal Swamp, and shaped into fantastic appearances, bouquets, arches, national arms, and entire buildings of liquid flame- the starry heavens not worth looking at. The promenades are illuminated, some to the brightness of the day, others just throw a gentle glimmering on one's charms; others, again, from a bright glare, fade insensibly away, as you advance, into a deep obscurity, where only the phosphorus and glow-worm light their ineffectual fires.' One of the brightest images, is a 'Grecian Temple,' with the national arms, quivering in fire, and other pyrotechnic ornaments, for the accommodation of the music, where now and then a gentleman leads out a lady by the tips of the fingers, and then she sings; and then he leads her back again, when she is done. There is, beside, a theatre, where they get up a Battle of Waterloo,' natural as life, with a thousand men, and two hundred horses.

It was to protect me from the dangers of this witching place, that I took the little girl mentioned above, the prettiest of the 'two millions,' with me, and she conducted my blindness through the wizard mazes of the garden. Love, instead of going with the other little gods to school, played truant often with a mischievous urchin called Folly. One day, sculking in corners, they pitched quoits, and Folly, who never looks what he is about pitched, and pitched his quoit into Love's eyes and at last put them out. His mother ran to his screams, and fainted and then came to life again, and fled up to Jupiter for redress. Dear Cytherea,' said the father of gods and men, as he imprinted a kiss upon his daughter, 'to restore your son from his blindness, is forbid

We were

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den by the Fates ; but Folly, the rogue ! for his penance, shall conduct him through the world, wherever he goes;' and Jove shook his ambrosial curls. And we strolled now along the gay Italian walk, and admired the statues, and admired the bay and city of Naples, or put a foot in the dance, or, in an oriental kiosk, among the hedges, with refreshing ices, and exhilarating punch, sat apart, and music came from afar. But what music so eweet as the whispering of woman's voice after midnight!' At length, while straying along a silent path, lured by the obscurity, we came where a few rays only of the distant lamps cast a doubtful light upon the shrubbery, disshevelled gently by the breeze.

We entered a little retreat, which so lurked in a corner that the fairies might play their gambols in it at noon. Here was a lake, and upon its margin lay, face downward, in the full-blown excellence of her primitive charms — who do you think? Mother Eve, attired only in ber own complete perfections, squat upon

the
grass.

afraid of snakes, and retired to the more frequented parts of the garden. I observed, in the flickering twilight, Professor of Philadelphia, with no smile upon his lip, and no lady upon his arm. Please make my condolence to his wife. We now procured tickets, and sat down in the theatre. Great expectation; and out came, so help me! the eternal • Family,' whose vaulting ambition' grasps the two worlds — the Ravels. I had left them in Chesnut-street, on quitting America ; and here they were, tumbling through the same pantomime, and storming the same pasteboard castles, at Vauxhall. A wonderful performance; but one hates to wonder at the same thing twice. Rope-dancing, and fire-works the most brilliant, concluded. We went then into the saloon, where were spread cold collations, confectionaries, and all the honors of the blushing god. We partook of tea only, and, with no fear of indigestion, a slice or two of bread, with a gentle intimation of butter ; the thinnest of human things, unless the mathematical definition of a superficies is a slice of bread-and-butter at Vauxhall. And having paid the ordinary three prices, and the tea getting into our heels, we ran home.

There is a most solitary walk upon the banks of the river, after crossing the bridge ; near a mile without habitation. It was the darkest hour of the night. A dim star here and there kept watch over head. We heard only broken voices in the distance, and the splash of the boatman's oar, and now and then a coach rolled by. Poor Emma! At every rustling leaf, she trembled in her heart and knees, but never told her fears. I have learned since, that not to be murdered here, is one of the merest of human accidents. When I had surmounted nearly half the distance, and went talking and walking carelessly along, now fast, now slow, a robber, such as Blackheath never concealed in its thicket of furze, fled from me unarmed! He had red whiskers and blue eyes. It was the innocence of the girl that saved us. Albuquerque, by putting an infant on his shoulder, in a thunder-storm, was once saved in the same way. Vauxhall is an abominable place. If ever I go there again - it will be in a coach.

I

— When we had turned tail upon Westminster, the Duke of Buccleugh's route had filled up the street with carriages for a mile a la

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ronde. Here again was illumination enough to frighten'chaos and old night. The garden was brilliant with ten thousand lights, and the river with fire-works, terrifying the eels that crept in the mud. Little boats, with festive lamps, rejoiced over the surface of the waters, and the Petards, the Peters, as Scott's girl called them, were popping off under the soles of our feet.

Now Hesperus has extinguished his fires in the west, and the cats, who have spent the night out in dissipation, are scrambling in at the cellar windows. I must to bed. Good night !

While in my bosom Sorrow dwells, 'Twixt us there will be placed a bar,
And Hope has fled its darkened cells And, dear one! thou wilt be afar;
While there the feelings that appeared Thou wilt not then be that sweet child,
Once fresh and young, are scorched and who once beside me sate and smiled!
While there are striving many aband (sered, Thy gladsome step will be less glad,
Of griefs thou canst not understand Thy merry voice perchance grow sad;
'Tis sweet to think within my heart And Pride may spread her snares around,
One pure affection still hath part,

And anguish thy light heart may wound; That there one spring unstained may be — Anduhou wilt think no more of me, That love, that spring, are kept for thee ! Though I shall still remember thee!

I look on thee, my precious one!

Thou wilt forget me!- in the world As a sweet flower that ne'er bath known

Thy sail of life will be unfurled; One cloudy day, one storm of life; And pleasures gay, like butterflies, That hath not felt the spirit's strife Will fit before thy dazzled eyes; With passions, that, like summer's sun, And Hatterers at ihy feet will fall, Wither whate'er they look upon;

And strive thy spirit to enthral ; I think of thee as a young bird

While I, within my solitude, That scarce from parent nest hath stirred, Behold ihee worshipped, sought, and wooed, And marvel what the course will be, And from my lone obscurity That is in future traced for thee!

Breathe many a prayer to heaven for thee!

III.

VI.

Whene'er I gaze upon thy face,
Where never care hath left a trace;
Whene'er I see thy fair, smooth brow,
Thy soft cheek with its roseate glow,
The eyes whose tears are not of pain,
(Would they might always so remain !)
Though to mine own no tear-drops start,
I see thee with a heavy heart,
Remembering it is heaven's decree,
A change must soon come over thee!

But though to thee I shall not speak,
Though I shall kiss no more thy cheek,
Though to my heart I shall not press thee,
Still will I think of thee, and bless thee !
And oh! in life's most joyous hour,
Think on the one eternal Power;
And pray to Him, as I will pray,
To guide thee on thy earthly way!
Remember Him! and he shall be
The friend, protector, all to thee!

New-Haven, (Conn.)

HAUNTER of shadowy groves, oh! breathe once more
That strain of sweet yet melancholy sound;
For now the breezy wood scarce sighs around,
And distantly the wind-stirred forests roar:
Thou know'st, wild bird! a joy I cannot know,
With wing unfettered, and a will as free,

To fit through silent woods, from bough to bough,
Or breathe, in leafy shades, thy melody:
Bending the hemlock's branch with graceful poise,
Above some forest-water's gurgling moan,
Thou sing'st the livelong day, unseen, alone,
Half sad, in very fullness of thy joys.

Breathe out yet once again that mellow song,
Each rapturous strain, each dying fall, prolong!

OLLAPODIAN A.

CONTINUED.

L.

SITTING down, good my reader, to write a few paragraphs, named of the above, I was sorely perplexed as to the number. Ollapodiana: Number what? By the mass, I could not tell; the time was so long; my thoughts and subjects were a broken chain; I seemed, indeed, to have but just returned from some other land, beyond the influence of days, and hours, and all those vile admeasurements of time, so rigidly observed by such as send Williams (bills, in the vulgate,) for services rendered in artizan line, and by banking institutions. Time seemed to have dissolved all partnership with my vitality, and I was well nigh upon the point of exclaiming upon him, in the tone of honest Diccon, in Gammer Gurton's Needle:

Thou

But I checked the malediction. Out upon Time?'-no! reverend softener of human sorrow; thou who, throned upon the clouds of undiscovered fate, or with thy bright lock and thy insatiate weapon, enrobed in the sunshine of hope, aud gay with that golden haze which plays above the distant vale of vernal Expectation

no!

not out upon thee! Friend to the wretched-thou shouldst be a woman, for men, in the profundity of their blundering, talk of events in thy womb'-Great Unsexed, and yet evermore preserving in the primer thy masculine identity-thy rather disreputable and misplaced queue and displaying in thy somewhat ancient physiognomy that desire of getting-ahead, so peculiar to thy respectful fellow-citizens, the American people. They speak of thee with respect, yet they take thee unceremoniously by the forelock,' whether thy yellow hair floats on the eastern mountains, or thou tremblest at the gates of the West. Twin-brother of Eternity! oh, why so taciturn to human hearts, whose yearning core would thrill with undying rapture, to hear the particulars of the doings and scenes in that vast country, the dim dominion of thy Great Relation!

OBSERVE, my friend, I am not writiny ogainst time; so let us slowly on. My impressions of the old gentleman are sometimes extremely fantastic. I was looking, the other day, at a playful young cat, just emerging from the fairy time of kittenhood; something between the revelry of the fine mewer, and the gravity without the experience of the tabby. Now one would think that no great subject for contemplation. It would be looked upon by the million as inferior to astronomy. But it is the connexion of the events having reference to the quadruped, which renders her of interest. Time will expand her person, increase her musical powers, and bring her admirers. In her back, on winter evenings, will sleep a tolerable imitation of the lightnings of heaven. She will make great noise o' nights, and lap at interdicted cream. So much for her exterior — her love-passages and obstreperous concerts. But look within! That compact embodiment of ligaments and conduits, now treading gingerly over those fading leaves, and grapes of purple, what may they not be hereafter ? Whose hearts may they not thrill, when strung on the sonorous bridge of a cremona, guided to softest utterances by the master hand ? How many memories of youth, and hope, and fond thoughts, and sunny evenings, and bowers by moonlight, radiant with the beams of Cynthia, and warm with the sweet reflex of Beauty; the heart, touched by the attempered entrail, rosin-encompassed and bow-bestrid, may bound in age with recollections of departed rapture. And all from what ? Smile not at the association, my friend — from Time and cat-gut.

It is a pleasure to the bereaved, to think that time, which sadly overcometh all things, can alone restore the separated, and bring the mutually-beloved together. Time, which plants the furrow, and sows the seed of death, stands to the faithful spirit, a messenger of light at that mysterious wicket-gate, from whence we step and enter upon the vast Unknown. Compare with this enlarged, this universeembracing view, which breaks at once upon the soul, the act of laying down in what to some may seem a sleep of cold obstruction ; and where is the resemblance of the one, or what eye hath heard, or what heart conceived, of the infinitude of the other; where the blooming immensity of a dominion, beyond all realms enrolled of earth, spreads brightly to the sight, illumined for ever with the bountiful smile of the Giver of Good.

Now there are some who do love marvellously to talk about the dainty glories of Spring. One of this sort is my friend DAFFODILLY. Daf. is a clever individual, with a beart as open as the day to the charities of life. But he turns up his nose at all the seasons, excepting Spring. The sight of an early flower in April makes his head a watering-pot. He is troubled with a kind of green-sickness, and reads Thomson as though his like never was nor could be. He has the 'pink incense' always upon him. Summer he despises; and Autumn, to him, is one scene of storm and gloom.

Winter he associates with blue noses, cracked lips, and the absence of all feeling among men. • But Spring !' he says, “that opens the heart, that

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