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wider mortality! For this exemption from all the rest-that we are in the hands of a higher the worst evils of a national pestilence, the nation is generally and profoundly thankful.
And, if this be, as we believe it to be, the case, does not an occasion so solemn deserve an expression of sentiments so profound? Should there not be some public and universal recognition of the Might which has stood between the living and the dead-of the mercy which has spared us the consummation of a dreadful chastisement? We know that there are men who refuse to acknowledge the hand of God in any great dispensation of his providence to whom all the vicissitudes of the material world are but the casual results of fortuitous combinations, or the inevitable operations of undetected laws. Fortunately, the majority of mankind have not concurred in ousting the DEITY from all concern in the world which he has made. Most men still feel sensible that there is one OмNISCIENT and ALL-POWERFUL, who directs and determines the issues of life and death to men and nations. It is useless to talk of secondary causes. Secondary causes are but the instruments which the Deity chooses to employ. Sickness, famine, and death, are warnings by which He reminds mankind of their weakness, their helplessness, and their mortality. Every man feels this in his own family, person, and circumstances. The sickness that hurries a favorite child, or an affectionate wife, to an early grave, is a humbling but effective example of divine power and human weakness. The palsy that prostrates the strong man in the full flush of health and vigor-the distress and poverty which stun the rich man in the height of his prosperity-these are but secondary, often tertiary causes; they may often be traced, step by step, through devious but connected consequences; but each man, in his own heart, feels them to be the indications of a supreme will and the tokens of supreme power. And when these befall individuals, the prayer is put up in an earnest confidence that He who has inflicted the wound -though he may not heal it-will yet temper the infliction with a blessing.
And this is a merciful dispensation. Without such, men would stagnate into a moral apathy, and, forgetting the existence of a God, would forget the duties which he has enjoined. It is by these visitations that men are reminded that they are weak. But they are also reminded that they are accountable. There never yet was a great national affliction without some previous neglect of public or private duties. The very plague which has visited us was made more violent by the omission of kindly acts and the neglect of beneficent laws. The loss of life, and the loss of money, which we are suffering, are penalties by which Almighty Wisdom punishes the delinquencies of governments and states. Had we observed the duties of charity and justice more than we have, we should have suffered less than we have. Had we been more devout, we should have been more just and more charitable.
There is a
Those who have suffered, and those who have escaped, the pestilence of this year, will need no exhortations to acts of individual devotion and thanksgiving. But the suffering assumed the form of a national suffering; the deliverance has been a national deliverance. The thanksgiving should be national also. The form and mode of it we do not undertake to prescribe. But we are confident that the people of this land will feel it their duty to utter a solemn and public expression of their thanks to Him who has heard their prayer in due season; and that, moreover, they will not forget that the mere expression of thanks, solemnized by whatever ceremonial it may be, will, in a season like this, be but a poor and unworthy homage at the throne of Infinite Justice. sacrifice which should be performed. The graves of our cities have been crowded with the victims of greedy speculation, careless legislation, and frigid selfishness. They who have perished have for the most part perished in fetid alleys, noisome and pestiferous houses, vile and infectious cellars, the structures or properties which were owned by Doubtless the cholera, like any other phenom- selfish covetousness, and erected by selfish indifferenon, either of the corporeal or the mundane sys-ence. Let us take warning from our past stupidtem, follows certain definite and ascertainable ity or neglect, and not mock a religious solemnity laws. So does typhus fever, so do hurricanes, by persisting in cruelty and apathy. While we so do waterspouts, so do thunderstorms, so do allow the houses of the poor to be without air, earthquakes. But the laws of which we speak light, or water—while we taint the breath of the are but a convenient phrase to express the will of living with the exhalations of the dead, and while the great Lawgiver. He who made can abate, we squabble in the midst of a destroying pest about modify, suspend, or warp them. He who can bid the rights of vestries and commissions, our fast a plague rise in the East, may direct its sinuous will be but an impious hypocrisy, and our prayers course so as to baffle the observations of the most a hideous mummery. sagacious, and the deductions of the most intelligent. After all, when we have ascertained the law, we are nearly as helpless as we were before. We may foresee a certain number of cases, and mitigate a certain number; but the highest degree of knowledge which we attain is, that we know but little about them; and our utmost skill is baffled by contingencies which defy its explanation. One fact ever appears prominent above
"Is it such a fast that I have chosen? A day for a man to afflict his soul? To bow down his head as a bulrush, and to spread sackcloth and ashes under him? Wilt thou call this a fast, and an acceptable day to the Lord? Is not this the fast that I have chosen wickedness, to undo the let the oppressed go free; yoke ?"
to loose the bands of heavy burdens, and to and that ye break every
From Bentley's Miscellany.
Miss Pardoe's powers of description and habits of observation appeared to point out to her her line of literature as peculiarly that of recording THE lady whose portrait* forms the illustration the wonders of foreign lands, and a tour which to our present number, is one who has largely the family made through the Austrian empire, ministered to the instruction as well as the amuse-enabled her to give the world the results of her ment of the age. observations on Hungary in that excellent work, Miss Pardoe is the second daughter of Major" The City of the Magyar," a work now more Thomas Pardoe, of the Royal Wagon Train, an than ever deserving of public notice-less gay and able and meritorious officer, who, after having par- glittering than "The City of the Sultan," her taken of the hardships and shared the glories of work on Hungary exhibits deeper research; its the Peninsular campaigns, concluded a brilliant statistics are peculiarly accurate; and it is on all military career on the field of Waterloo, and has hands admitted to be one of the best books of not since been engaged in active service. It is travel ever submitted to the public. but doing bare justice to this amiable and excellent A very short time after the publication of this man, to say that he was as much beloved by the work, appeared "The Hungarian Castle," a colmen whom he commanded, as he was popular lection of Hungarian legends in three volumes, among his fellow-officers, and his honorable retire-interesting on all grounds, but especially as filling ment is still cheered by the regard and respect of up a very little known page in the legendary hisall who have ever known him. tory of Europe.
Miss Pardoe gave promise, at a very early age, About this time, Miss Pardoe, finding her health of those talents which have since so greatly dis- suffering from the too great intensity of study and tinguished her. Her first work, a poetical pro- labor to which she had subjected herself, retired duction, was dedicated to her uncle, Captain Wil- from the great metropolis, and has since resided liam Pardoe, of the Royal Navy, but is not with her parents in a pleasant part of the county much known, and though exhibiting considerable of Kent. The first emanation from her retiremerit, will hardly bear comparison with her more ment was a novel entitled "The Confessions of a mature and finished productions. The earliest of Pretty Woman," a production which was eagerly her publications which attained much notice, was read, and rapidly passed into a second edition. In her " Traits and Traditions of Portugal," a book due course of time this was followed by anotherwhich was extensively read and admired. Written "The Rival Beauties." These tales are more in early youth, and amid all the brilliant scenes able than pleasing; they are powerful pictures of which she describes, there is a freshness and charm the corruptions prevalent in modern society, and about it, which cannot fail to interest and delight bear too evident marks of being sketches from the the reader. life. We have placed "The Rival Beauties" out The good reception which this work met with of its proper order, that we may conclude by a determined the fair author to court again the pub-notice of those admirable historical works on lic favor, and she published several novels in suc- which Miss Pardoe's fame will chiefly rest-her cession-" Lord Morcar," 66 Hereward," " Spec- Louis the Fourteenth," and "Francis the First."* ulation," and "The Mardyns and Daventrys." The extremely interesting character of their times In these it is easy to trace a gradual progress, both admirably suited Miss Pardoe's powers as a writer, in power and style, and the last-named especially and she has in both cases executed her task with is a work worthy of a better fate than the gener- great spirit and equal accuracy. The amount of ality of novels. But we are now approaching an information displayed in these volumes is really era in the life of Miss Pardoe. In the year 1836 stupendous, and the depth of research necessary she accompanied her father to Constantinople, and, to produce it fully entitles Miss Pardoe to take a struck by the gorgeous scenery and interesting very high rank among the writers of history. manners of the East, she embodied her impressions in one of the most popular works which have for many years issued from the press. "The City of the Sultan" at once raised her to the height of popularity. The vividness of the descriptions, their evident truthfulness, the ample opportunities she enjoyed of seeing the interior of Turkish life, all conspired to render her work universally known and as universally admired. This was speedily followed by "The Beauties of the Bosphorus," a work, like "The City of the Sultan," profusely and splendidly illustrated, and this again by "The Romance of the Harem."
* Very bright! Would we could copy it.-Liv. Age.
Her style is easy, flowing, and spirited, and her delineations of character as vivid as they are just; nor would it be easy to find any historical work in which the utile is so mingled with the dulce, as in those of Miss Pardoe.
She is now, we hear with much pleasure, engaged on "A Life of Mary de Medici," a subject extremely suited to her pen.
Looking on her portrait, we may trust that she has half her life, or more, still in the future, and may reasonably look to her for many contributions to the delight and learning of ourselves and our posterity.
* Reprinted by Lea & Blanchard, Philadelphia.
From Chambers' Journal. MR. ROBERT SIMPSON'S COURTSHIP.
Such was the Mr. Robert Simpson who, about two o'clock on the afternoon of March the 1st, 1847, stepped, richly and scrupulously attired, into a Brougham, specially retained to convey him to dine at his friend, Mr. John Puckford's, modest but comfortable establishment at Mile End, where he was by express arrangement to meet his ex pected, expectant bride. Before, however, relating what there befell him, it will be necessary to put the reader in possession of certain important incidents which had occurred during the three previous days.
ABOUT three years have elapsed since Mr. Robert Simpson succeeded, at the demise of Mr. Isaac Simpson, ironmonger by trade, fishmonger by livery, and common councilman of the city of London by election, to the prosperous business and municipal honors established and acquired by his respectable, pains-taking parent. Some natural tears he shed; but, the exigencies of business and the duties of his corporate office-replacing, as he immediately did, his father in the representation On the evening of the preceding Tuesday, Mr. of the important ward in which his shop was Simpson, finding himself at the east end of the situated-not permitting a protracted indulgence town, and moreover strongly disposed for a cup of in the selfish luxury of woe, he fortunately recovered tea and a quiet gossip, resolved to " drop in" upon his equanimity in a much less space of time than his new acquaintance, Mr. John Puckford, hoping persons acquainted with the extreme tenderness of to find him and his wife alone. In this, however, his disposition had thought possible. Mr. Robert he was doomed to disappointment; for he had Simpson, albeit arrived at the mature age of thirty-scarcely withdrawn his hand from the knocker, five, was still a bachelor; and not only unappro- when he was startled-Mr. Simpson was, as I priated, but, as ward-rumor reported, unpromised; have before hinted, a singularly bashful person in at perfect liberty, in fact, to bestow himself, his the presence of the fairer and better half of creavery desirable stock in trade, business premises, [tion—by the sound of female voices issuing, in and three freehold houses in the Poultry, upon any exuberant merriment, from the front parlor. There fair lady fortunate enough to engage his affection, was company, it was evident, and Mr. Simpson's and able to return it. Indeed, to this circumstance, first impulse was to fly; as the thought crossed it was whispered at the time of his election, he his mind the door opened, and Mr. Puckford, who owed his unopposed return to the municipal niche chanced to be in the passage, espying him, he was so long and worthily occupied by his departed fain to make a virtue of necessity, and was speedily father; Mr. Crowley, the highly respectable spec- in the midst of the merry party whose gayety had tacle-maker, having suddenly withdrawn from the so alarmed him. That the introduction was contest on the very day of nomination; thereto managed in the usual way, I have no doubt; but induced, hinted gossips of the city, by the fact that the names, however distinctly uttered, seem to Miss Crowley, who chanced to meet Mr. Robert have made no impression upon the confused brain Simpson on the previous evening at the house of a of the bashful visitor; so that when, after the lapse mutual acquaintance, had been by him most cour-of a few minutes, he began to recover his composteously and gallantly escorted home. The matri-ure, he found himself in the presence of three monial inference drawn from so slight a premise ladies and one gentleman, of whose names, as well as a few minutes' walk along unromantic Cheap- as persons, he was profoundly ignorant. The side, by gas, not moonlight, proved, as might be ladies were two of Mrs. Puckford's married sisters, expected, an altogether erroneous one. The Fates and Miss Fortescue, a young lady of reduced forhad other views regarding the prosperous iron- tunes, at present occupied as teacher in a neighbormonger; and as those "sisters three," like mosting seminary. The gentleman was Mr. Alfred ladies, generally contrive to have their own way, Gray, a bachelor like Mr. Simpson, but nothing Mr. Simpson was ultimately quite otherwise dis-like so old, and scarcely so bashful. Mrs. Frazer, posed of; and Miss Crowley, for aught I know to the contrary, remains Miss Crowley to this day.
Not that Mr. Simpson was by any means insensible to female fascination; he was, unfortunately for his own peace of mind, somewhat too susceptible; an ardent admirer of beauty in all its hues and varieties, from the fair and delicate grace and beauty of the maidens of the pale north, to the richer glow and warmer tints of orient loveliness. The strict surveillance of his honored father, joined to a constitutional timidity he was quite unable to overcome, had, however, sufficed during that gentleman's lifetime to prevent rash impulse from eventuating in rash deed. He was also, I must mention, extremely fastidious in his notions of feminine delicacy and reserve; and his especial antipathies were red hair, or any hue approaching to red, and obliquity of vision of the slightest kind.
the eldest of the two sisters, a charming lady-like person, of, you would say, judging from appearances, about twenty-three or twenty-four years of age, seemed-after some oscillation between her and Mrs. Holland, whose fuller proportions, dark hair, and brunette complexion, contrasted not unfavorably with the lighter figure, and fair hair and features of her sister-to engross Mr. Simpson's whole attention, and to arouse, after awhile, all his conversational energies, which, by the way, were by no means contemptible. Mr. Simpson's time was come: ere a couple of hours had fled, the hapless ironmonger was hurt past all surgery; had fallen desperately in love with a married lady, and the mother of three or four children! On the only single female present, Miss Fortescue, Mr. Simpson had bestowed but one glance on entering the apartment: that had been quite sufficient to
The ladies departed early, and Mr. Simpson and Mr. Gray followed their example a few minutes afterwards.
"Mr. Gray," said the former gentleman, as he took leave of his companion at the end of the street, "what is that charming person's name? I have quite forgotten it."
"I suppose we may with a safe conscience assure him that she is not engaged?"
"Of course we may.
It is a wonderful match for her, and we ought to do all we can to forward it. Friday next, the 1st of March, is Alfred's birthday; suppose you ask him to dine with us on that day to meet her? We need have only the same party he met yesterday evening."
This was finally agreed upon; and accordingly, as soon as he had finished his business in the city, Mr. Puckford, previous to returning home, called on Mr. Simpson. He found him in a state of great excitement, which, however, gradually calmed down after Mr. Puckford's solemn assurance, which he gave unhesitatingly, that the charming Mary Fortescue was certainly disengaged; and, in his opinion, by no means indisposed to entertain an
"Which charming person?" inquired Mr. Al- eligible matrimonial proposition. All this was fred Gray, with a quiet smile.
This Mr. Simpson thought a very absurd question; he, however, replied " The lady in the plaid dress; Mary, Mrs. Puckford called her."
“The lady in a plaid dress, whom Mrs. Puckford called Mary, is a Miss Fortescue: she is a teacher of music and drawing," rejoined Mr. Gray, with demure accent. It was too dark for Mr. Simpson to see his eyes.
"Thank you, sir; good night," rejoined the enamored municipal dignitary. Mr. Simpson was soon at home, and before an hour had elapsed had carefully penned, and posted with his own hands, a letter to his friend Puckford. He then retired to bed, and dreamt dreams.
balm to the stricken Simpson; and after several failures, he at last succeeded in inditing a formal offer of his hand and fortune to the lady of his affection; of which impassioned missive Mrs. Puckford was to be the bearer; her husband undertaking that she would exert all her eloquence and influence to secure acceptance of the proposal.
"And now, Puckford," said Mr. Simpson, "we 'll have a glass of wine, and drink the future Mrs. Simpson's health. What a charming ornament," he added, with a sort of rapturous sigh, as he placed the decanters on the table—“what a charming ornament she would be to this fireplace!"
"An odd expression that!" thought Mr. Puckford, forgetting that the speaker was an ironmonger, and dealt in such articles. In fact, from the
Sarah," said Mr. Puckford the next morning to his wife, after reading a letter, just delivered, | way in which Simpson had been rapturizing upon with a perplexed expression of countenance-" did Miss Fortescue's charms, a doubt of his friend's Mr. Simpson seem to you particularly struck with perfect sanity had sprung up in John Puckford's Mary Fortescue yesterday evening?" mind; and he shrewdly suspected that the affair "With Mary Fortescue? Surely not. Why would terminate in a de lunatico inquirendo instead do you ask?"
Only that here is a letter from Simpson, professing violent love for her; and stating his determination, should you and I be able to assure him, which he scarcely dares venture to hope, that she is disengaged, to immediately solicit her hand in marriage."
"Gracious!-Is it possible?"
"Read the letter yourself. Her beauty, he observes, is, he is quite sure, her least recommendation. Comical, is n't it?"
"Well, it is odd; but she is, you know, a most amiable creature; and will make, I am sure, an admirable wife."
"And he, too, that so especially detests red hair, or the slightest twist in the organs of vision".
"Mary Fortescue's hair," interrupted the wife, can scarcely be called red a very deep gold color, I should say".
of a license.
"Do you know, Puckford," said Mr. Simpson, with a benevolent, patronizing air, after the third or fourth glass—“ do you know I fancy there is a great likeness between you and Mary Fortescue?"
Mr. John Puckford, the reader must understand, was a handsome young man, with a brilliant florid complexion, perfectly-agreeing vision, and lightbrown hair. No wonder, therefore, he was more startled than flattered by the comparison. The color mounted to his temples, and a conviction of Simpson's utter insanity flashed across his brain. "Mad as a March hare!" he mentally ejaculated; at the same time resolving, should the paroxysm grow dangerously violent, to knock him down with one of the decanters; both of which, as two could play at that game, he drew, as if in doubt which wine he would take, to his own side of the table. Mr. Simpson, mistaking the nature of his friend's emotion, added, "Don't suppose, Puckford, I in
Very deep indeed-remarkably so," inter- tend any absurd flattery!" jected Mr. Puckford.
"Not at all, Simpson; I did n't suppose anything of the sort, I assure you."
"To be sure not; nothing is more contemptible. You are a good-looking fellow--very; but
of course I could n't mean that you, a man, are to lady there, and you know her." Mr. Simpson's be compared to Mary Fortescue."
"I should think not!" drily responded the more and more mystified and bewildered Puckford. "Exactly: you do not resemble each other about the eyes, either in color or expression." "Oh !"
"No; as to hair," continued Mr. Simpson meditatively, "yours, there can be no doubt, is decidedly the lightest."
"It's coming now," thought Mr. John Puckford, grasping at the same time one of the decanters, and eying his friend intensely.
Mr. Simpson, quite misinterpreting the action, added quickly, "Do, my good fellow, fill me a bumper, and we'll drink her good-looking friend's health-the lady, I mean, with the dark silky hair and brunette complexion. Do you know," continued the complacent Simpson, crossing his legs, throwing himself back easily in his chair, and hooking his thumbs to the arm-holes of his waistcoat-" do you know that, if Mary Fortescue had not been at your house yesterday evening, I might have"
What the worthy ironmonger might, in the case supposed, have done or said, must be left to the reader's imagination, for on the instant a clerk hurriedly entered the apartment, to announce that an important customer awaited Mr. Simpson in the counting-house below. Hastily rising, Mr. Simpson shook hands with his friend, and both departed their several ways: Mr. Puckford bearing off the epistle addressed to Miss Fortescue, and musing as he went upon lover-madness, which, he fully agreed with Rosalind, deserved chains and a dark house quite as much as any other variety of the disease.
The next day Mr. Simpson received a note from Mary Fortescue, modestly and gracefully expressed, in which, with charming humility, and many expressions of gratified surprise, the offer of his hand was on one condition, unexplained, but which rested altogether with himself-gratefully accepted.
Such was the state of affairs when, on the 1st of March, Mr. Simpson, as I have before stated, entered a Brougham, and directed the driver to make the best of his way to Mile End. It was a fine, bright and exceedingly cold day; but notwithstanding the nipping, eager air, the love-lorn ironmonger, as he approached the house which contained his charmer, was in a state of profuse perspiration and high nervous excitement. Once more he drew from his pocket the fairy note, and glanced over the modest, grateful, delicately-feminine expressions. "Dear lady," he audibly ex
claimed as he finished about the five hundredth perusal of the familiar lines-"Dear lady, she will be all tears and tenderness!"
About a minute after giving utterance to this consolatory reflection, Mr. Simpson found himself in Mrs. Puckford's presence, who, congratulating him on his punctuality, and pointing to the door of the front apartment said, "There is only one
heart leaped and thumped, as if desirous of bursting through his green velvet waistcoat. He stepped desperately towards the door, and essayed to turn the brass handle; but so profusely did the bashful man's very fingers perspire, that they slipped round the knob without turning it. The second trial, with the help of his cambric handkerchief, was more successful, and the lover was in the presence of the lady.
Certainly it was she! Mrs. Frazer, the hapless Simpson's Mary Fortescue, was there in bodily reality. But the grateful humility, the "tears and tenderness," prefigured by the charming note! Oh Alfred Gray!
The unruffled ease, the calm, reserved politeness with which Mrs. Frazer received him chilled his enthusiastic fervor wondrously. His perspiration became a cold one, and in a few moments he felt as if enveloped in coatings and leggings of Wenham-Lake ice. Recovering himself as speedily as he could from the shock of this unexpectedlychilling reception, Mr. Simpson stammered forth something about his extreme good fortune in having obtained a favorable response from so amiable a person, et cetera.
"Certainly," replied the lady, "I think you are very fortunate, Mr. Simpson." And then, by way of saying something particularly civil, and to relieve the modest man's embarrassment, she added, "But few men have, like you, sufficient discrimination to discern and appreciate attractions which lie hidden from the merely superficial observer.
Poor Simpson gasped for breath! He was literally dumbfounded! Here was modest gratitude, to say nothing of "tears and tenderness," with a vengeance! Miss Fortescue, with a precarious salary of some twenty pounds per annum, exclusive of bread and butter, was, in her own opinion, conferring a tremendous obligation upon a civic dignitary worth at least twenty thousand pounds, by accepting him for a husband! That was quite clear; and although Mr. Simpson was too much in love to deny such a proposition in the abstract, still it was, he thought, scarcely consistent with maiden modesty to state it so very broadly.
Notwithstanding his amazement, Mr. Simpson, as soon as he recovered breath, continued, so well had he studied for the occasion, to get out a sentence or two about the superiority of connubial to single blessedness. This sentiment also met with ready acquiescence.
"Oh dear, yes," said Mrs. Frazer; "I would not have been an old maid for the world!"
"Well," thought the astonished admirer of feminine reserve, almost doubting the evidence of his ears, "this is certainly the frankest maiden I ever conversed with !"
A considerable pause followed. Mrs. Frazer, seated upon a sofa, played with the luxurious auburn-really auburn-tresses of her nephew Alfred.