"I will take nothing!" answered he short- " Holy Mother! do you imagine all my heart's ly, and pushing away the bright cross which blood has run out of that little wound? Do she had drawn from her pocket.

"You must take it," said she. "Who knows how long it may be before you can earn anything with that hand. There it lies, and I will never look at it again."

"Then throw it into the sea!"

"Why, it is no gift I make you; it is nothing more than your right, and what you ought in justice to receive."

66

you not feel it there beating in my breast, as though it would burst? If you only say this to try me, or out of pity for me, go away, and I will try to forget this also. You shall not think yourself guilty, because you know what I suffer about you.'

"No," she replied firmly, and looking up eagerly from his shoulder through her swimming tears. "I love you! and, lest I should Right? I have no right over anything let you see it, I have struggled strongly of yours. If, in future, you should meet me against it. But now I will behave differently', anywhere, do me the favor not to look at me, for I could not help looking at you if I met that I may not think you remember how you in the street. And now," added she wrongly I acted towards you. And now solemnly, "receive this kiss, that you may good-night, and let the subject drop."

He laid her handkerchief in the basket, and the cross by its side; then closed the lid. When he looked up, he started. Large heavy drops were rolling down Laurella's cheeks.

say to yourself if you doubt again: 'She kissed me, and Laurella kisses none but him she intends for her husband.' And now," concluded she, disengaging herself, "you must go to bed, and get your hand well. Goodnight! Do not go with me, for I fear no one -but you." She then tripped out of the door, and disappeared in the shadow of the walls. Antonino continued to gaze for some

"It is nothing," she said. "I will go home; " and she turned towards the door; but her emotion overpowered her, and lean-time longer through the window over the ing her head against the door-post, she sobbed glorious sea, in which a thousand stars seemed aloud. He hastened towards her, but before to twinkle. he could take her hand, she threw herself into his arms.

"I cannot bear it!" she cried, clinging to him like a dying creature to life. "I cannot bear your speaking so kindly, and bidding me leave you, when I am conscious of having done you so much injury. Strike me! tread me under your feet! curse me even! or if it be true that you love me still, after all I have done, here, take me, keep me, do with me what you will; only do not send me away from you thus!" Sobs again interrupted her. He held her for a time in his arms in silence.

"If I still love you!" cried he at length.

The next time the little priest came out of the confessional, in which La rella had long been kneeling, he smiled quietly to himself.

"Who would have thought," said he mentally, "that Heaven would so soon have shewn mercy to this poor strange heart? And there was I anticipating a hard struggle with that besetting sin of hers, pride. But how short-sighted are we mortals, where Heaven is so wise! Well! may the blessing of all the saints be upon her; and may I live to see the day when Laurella's eldest son can take his father's place in rowing me across the water. Ei, ei, ei! La Rabbiata!”

THE BALLADS OF IRELAND. Collected and edited Historical [quære, Political?] Ballads, "Oliby Edward Hayes. In two volumes. ver's Advice," by Colonel Blacker-an Orange WITH rare exceptions, and they mostly trans- homily on the text of "Keep your powder dry" lations, these Ballads of Ireland" are of mod--and similar poems, appear along with "The ern date, Moore's Melodies being about the oldest specimens ; the most numerous belong to the period when "Young Ireland" and the Nation newspaper were in their meridian glory. The ballads are judiciously classed according to their nature; notices of the writers or notes on the subject are given when necessary; and the selection has been made with impartiality. In the

Wexford Massacre," "The Treaty Stone of Limerick," and similar patriotic themes. The general impression is that which we noted in reviewing the poetry of the Nation newspaper years ago the echo of" the Saxon," rather than the raciness of" the Celt." It is an interesting collection. Spectator.

bowl

THE enclosed soliloquy was written in 1837, And the sparkling wine of the full-wreathed by Miss , now Mrs. of Ky., and published in the Cincinnati Chronicle, a literary journal of limited circulation at that period, edited by Charles Drake. The soliloquy was subsequently altered and amended materially, but never republished. Prior to her marriage Mrs. had some local celebrity as a poetess, and published several pieces which were highly approved by the public, and commended in very flattering terms by Mr. Prentice and other journalists of cultivated taste in Kentucky. After her marriage she abandoned the Muses, but has contributed occasionally to some of the religious periodicals and newspapers, prose articles of very decided merit. If the enclosed be deemed worthy of a place in the Living Age, which I hope it may, it would perhaps be proper to state that it appears by request, and without the cognizance of the authoress. As a specimen of the poetry of the West it has merits, in my poor judgment, which entitle it to preservation

in American literature.

W. H. S.
ROCKVILLE, IND., Nov. 17th, 1855.

THE BRIDE'S SOLILOQUY.
WEAVE in my hair no buds, which rainbow

showers

And whispering winds have nursed in fairy bowers;

For they are Eden-born and eloquent

Of all the pure fresh feelings which are sent
By Heaven, to guide young Love's affections
right,

And gild its pathway with celestial light.

Bring me no flowers, for they are tokens all
Of early vows and hopes, which to recall
Methinks would fever so this pallid brow
That it would scorch to dust a garland now.
And O! they say 't would stain my cheek with

crime

To brood o'er memories of a happier time.

Bring me no flowers, but with a glittering chain
Bind the mad pulses of my throbbing brain;
And let not one unbraided tress wave free,
To mock my heart with its wild liberty.
But bind them regally, with gems whose gleams
Shall dazzle all with their cold, starlike beams;
That none my spirit's agony so deep,

Or my dim, tearful eyes, that fain would weep,
And smileless lips, may mark; while I to-night
My false and hollow vows of duty plight.

And then, when my faltering voice hath said
The solemn words, let me straightway be led
To join in the dance when the tireless feet
And the bounding hearts of the glad young

beat,

In measured time, to the notes that ring,
So gaily out from the minstrel's string.

For O! if the light of enjoyment falls

No lustre lends to the darkened soul,
And the maddening draughts of excitement fail
To re-mantle the cheek with its griefs made pale,
Then how wretched and lonely and desolate
Will this heart be, when abandoned to fate!
Yet must I not pass through the gazing crowd
With a careworn brow, and a spirit bow'd,
With a grief not veiled from their scornful eyes
By the dazzling array of wealth's disguise,
So dearly obtained by the loss of truth,
And the cherish'd visions of dreaming youth.
I would mix with the thoughtless, revelling
throng,
By the current of pleasure borne along,
Till the soothing words of the flatterer's praise
Shall call up the mem'ries of other days;
And my eye shall rest with a kindlier glance
On him whose fond, vain faith, perchance,
Will deem it the glow of love, not pride,
That flushes the face of his fair young bride.
But no! let him find me- - all cold and vain;
One born for a priestess in Fashion's fane;
For I would not for worlds that a look of mine
Should awaken a hope of that bliss divine,
Where welcoming smiles and endearments sweet
Wait with impatience the lov'd one to greet,
When at eve, with quick pace and swelling
breast,

He hies to a home with affection blest.

How fleeting did those joyous moments prove,
When, basking in the sunshine of thy love,
I question'd whether in Elysian bowers
Was ever known a bliss so sweet as ours.
Iarro, O Iarro! linked with thine,
Methought a bright and glorious fate was mine:
That I should move thro' palace halls of earth,
Won proudly by the riches of thy worth.

But thou hast rashly, ay, and coldly flung
From thee a heart, that still had fondly clung
To thine, though Fate o'er fields of gory dead
To earth's rude bounds, where, desolate and
Or storm-washed decks thy spirit brave had led

lone,

Spreads the wide waste of cold Siberia's zone.
And in that cheerless, unblest wilderness,
With thee I could have found more happiness

Not bright on my footsteps in Wealth's proud Than in the gorgeous halls of pomp and pride,

halls,

To which I go, -a hopeless, heartless Brides

LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.-No. 605.-29 DECEMBER, 1855.

From the North British Review.

judge him happy, if, among his peculiar

1. The Newcomes. Memoirs of a most Re-score, he can find matches for the greatspectable Family. Edited by ARTHUR PENDENNIS, Esq. London, 1854-5. 2. The Life of Henry Fielding, with Notices of his Writings, his Times, and Contemporaries. By FREDERICK LAwrence. London, 1855.

minded gentleman, Colonel Newcome; the high and sweet lady, the Countess of Florac ; the (considering the disadvantages of her bringing up) remarkably right-minded Miss Ethel ; the frank and honorable boy Clive ; the honest and independent, and withal LET us set out by entering our protest amiable, Miss Honeyman; the immaculate against the ignorance or hypocrisy which is matron, Mrs. Laura; the unpretentious at the base of the main complaint brought wife-and-home-loving member of parliament, against Mr. Thackeray, by some who have her husband; the meek man of genius, J. J., not been indisposed to concede to him the pos- not to speak of others of less significant, or a session of the most brilliant abilities. There more mixed quality, as F. Bayham, Sherrick, has been a loud cry raised (and in the name George Barnes, Lady Walham, De Florac, of religion, too!) that this writer represents Lord Kew, Miss Cann, and half-a-dozen men and women as worse than they are; that others, who are "all right at heart," as the the majority of his dramatis personæ are mean, cant and very questionable phrase goes. or malicious, or stupid, or vain, or have two Against this galaxy of excellence, what have or more of those and other disqualifications we of the utterly abominable to put in the together; that absolutely admirable charac-scale? Only Barnes Newcome, Mrs. Mackters are not to be discovered in his social enzie, Mrs. Hobson Newcome, and Lady world; that his very good people are few Kew, all of whom, except the last, let it be and far between; and that his amiable per- allowed (for it is true), are extremely comsons are sometimes stupid, at least to a degree mon characters, though we have not, comthat would prevent their shining at a London monly, the means of becoming so thoroughly dinner party. Does not the accusation, put and philosophically acquainted with them as plainly, confute itself, and turn to the credit in these instances. Why do we go on callof the accused for clear-sightedness? For ing ourselves "miserable sinners " on Sunour parts, we should rather be disposed to days, if we are to abuse Mr. Thackeray on charge Mr. Thackeray with the opposite week-days for making out many of us to be error, were we not convinced that a novelist somewhat less than saints? The plain fact who should represent the world with its aver- is, that Mr. Thackeray is described for age amount of malice, stupidity, meanness, exactly that quality which constitutes. his and vanity, would be absolutely unreadable. originality, namely, his faithfulness to some Let the reader take a glance, first over the important point or points of truth, hitherto score or so of portraits in the "Newcomes," denied or disregarded. We are all, nominally, and then over the score or so of his own orthodox on the point of human imperfection acquaintance - including, of course, himself, in the abstract, but now that Mr. Thackeray and let him candidly say whether, the num- insists on proving in detail, that there is bers pre-supposed equal, he knows as many really some substantial verity in the charge, worthy people as Mr. Pendennis, in his he meets with a most heretical roar of diseditorial capacity, pretends to depict. Of approbation. He is the Athanasius of the course, we are assuming, though this is, per- doctrine of human peccability. haps, unfair, that our reader knows his own This subject, the further it is examined, friends and himself as intimately as he is brings the greater credit to our client.. Other allowed to become acquainted with that writers have represented the world in as evil most respectable family," the Newcomes, a light, but few have done the work with and those who are associated with it. This, such conscience-convicting truth. Mr. Thackhowever, being premised, we certainly should eray makes a third with Shakspeare and

66

DCV. LIVING AGE. VOL. XI.

49

**

Fielding in this, that all his discreditable all events, he acts as if he had (which is all characters have an unhappy trick of claiming that concerns us), and neglects no means of kindred with us. Without desiring to under- making it efficient and productive. His busivalue the great ability of Mr. Dickens, it ness is to paint the world, and for that purmust be allowed, for example, that his bad pose he goes to look at it, and does not wish people have the unreal though convenient Nature out of the way, as Fuseli did, in order quality of self-isolation from the tolerable that his egotistical fancy may have unimpeded part of humanity-to which, of course, play; and his successive works bear that unevery reader belongs. We cut them with a mistakable badge of conscientious workmanperfect conscience; we cannot even exchange ship, successive improvement.

Mr. Thackeray's peculiar "style" reaches perfection in the "Newcomes." We say his peculiar style, because, in that exquisite novel, "Esmond," he has proved himself capable of assuming a style, which, though through

nod with such unmistakably disreputable persons. But the three writers above mentioned are more profound in their ethnology. They display to the conscience of the "most respectable persons," the links by which they are more than blood-relatives of the most out sustained and faultless, is evidently not unknowable scoundrels. Again, the good that which pleases him best, however much people in Mr. Thackeray's writings are apt to it may be preferred by many of his readers, displease us, strange as this may seem, for and those, perhaps, the best worth pleasing. the very same reason. The heroes and The chief fault of his ordinary and own style heroines of less veracious writers permit them- is also the fault of Fielding's; namely, a habit selves to be admired at a distance, and with- of winking the eye, as it were, at the reader, out insisting that we shall be like them, for as he goes on. We suppose that most readthe very sufficient reason that this is impos- ers like this, as those are generally popular sible. But Mr. Thackeray's good people favorites who do it. For our parts, we could affront us with a display of our own pos- well dispense with the compliment to oursibilities. If we are not as good as they are, selves supposed to be implied, for the sake of we ought to be, and we know it; and we are the gain to the novelist's dignity. With the obliged to blush at meanness, malice, vanity, single drawback, however, of this defect, Mr. and folly, which others, so clearly sharing Thackeray's present style is a marvel of comthe same humanity with ourselves, have pleteness and culture; and, to appreciate it abandoned, or refused to take up with. properly, the degrees through which this writFurthermore, between perfect heroes and er has passed in attaining it should be examheroines, and imperfect readers, the distance ined. Mr. Thackeray was a "crack writer" is not measurable; and, as all mathema- fifteen years ago. It is exactly fifteen years *ticians know, the relations between infinity ago that there appeared in the "Times” and zero are remarkable, and by beginners in newspaper an article on Fielding, which is -algebra these entities (or nonentities) are apt too marked in its manner, and in its anticito be confounded. But between imperfect pation of the views expressed in the "Lecreaders and much less imperfect Colonels New-tures on the English Humorists," for there to come and Countesses de Florac, the distance be a moment's doubt as to its authorship. is perfectly intelligible, and not, by any slight The "Times" literary articles are always in of conscience, to be confused with nullity. the most striking style that can be had for These qualities of Mr. Thackeray's recent money. But let the reader, who has easy writings, while they scandalize large classes, access to a file of that newspaper, compare confer upon his books an inexpressible attrac- the article in question (September 3, 1840) tion and value for those who really believe in with the "Lecture on Fielding in the English original sin and human imperfectibility. If Humorists." There is exactly the same order MrThackeray wrote only half as well as he of views and intellectual merit in both, but there is nearly as much difference between the two styles as there is between smoke and flame.

does, many people who now criticize would be wholesale admirers of his works.

He is not half-cracked, which is unfortunate for his reputation with those who judge of genius by the fracture. He has a feeling of the responsibility of possessing intellectual power, or, at

The difference between Fielding and Thackeray, in respect of that breadth of handling in which it has been complained that the lat