Woman!' exclaimed the man, in a tone of suppressed rage, 'did I not command you?'

'Brute!' retorted she, 'would you destroy two at once? would you murder both mother and child? See, her strength has failed; her pulse is gone; she may be dead in five minutes, if she is stifled by this horrid mask.'

'Dead!' muttered the man, in a low deep voice of uncontrollable anguish; dead! oh, no! any thing but that!'

The woman was too much engrossed by her needful care of her patient, to heed his words; and he, perceiving that she had succeeded in restoring the fainting form to animation, returned to the occupation which seemed to have shared his attention with the business of keeping a watchful eye upon the proceedings of the woman, viz., that of heaping log after log upon an already blazing fire in an adjoining room. This seemed the more extraordinary as the Spring was far advanced, and the tightly-closed doors and windows rendered the atmosphere of the room more than sufficiently warm without such unseasonable aid. The door between the two rooms opened just opposite the bed; and as he paced up and down between it and the fire-place, he at each turn added to the immense pile, spite of the woman's more than once venturing to suggest to him that the room was already oppressively hot.

At length the struggle ceased, and the voice of a living child greeted the newly-made mother's ear; but no muttered sound of thanksgiving breathed in joyful contrast to the feeble wail of the infant; no beloved voice bade her remember no more her anguish, for joy that a man was born into the world.' The strange being did indeed spring forward as the woman announced to him (hoping thereby perhaps to soften the asperity of his apparently demoniacal temperament) that a noble boy, straight in limb and perfect in proportion, lived to bless his parents; but it was not to bestow a father's blessing on his first-born; it was not to imprint a father's kiss upon the miniature features: no, it was not the warm pressure of parental affection; but rather the savage grasp of a fiend, with which he seized the new-born infant, even before the woman had time to cover the little quivering frame with a single garment, and with rapid strides advanced with it to the fire, which has been already alluded to. The unfortunate mother seemed partly aware of the man's horrid purpose, even before her attendant, engrossed with the necessary cares for her restoration, had perceived his approach, and in the most piteous accents besought him to replace the child beside her; a name evidently trembled on her lips; but even in that awful moment, caution prevailed, and no word which could betray him escaped her. She pleaded however in vain; the mysterious wretch, for such he truly seemed, stopped indeed, apparently in spite of himself, at every new entreaty, but his purpose, as it appeared, remained unaltered, for he replied in the same hoarse voice: It must be done - you know it must be done!'

'Gracious Heaven! and by your hands!'

'Are they not fittest for such a deed ?' replied he, in a tone of intense bitterness.

No! no! no!' almost screamed the miserable mother; it shall not

be; Heaven and Earth alike forbid it. Oh! do you take it from him!' continued she, addressing the woman; 'you who have been rudely dragged to this house of guilt and misery; forgive me,' (and here her eye turned to the masked figure, while as before a name trembled on her lips, though still she did not utter it,) I know it was for my sake: but even this woman, who has no reason to feel grateful to either of us, she I am sure will add her prayer to mine.'

'Take it then!' said the man, almost flinging the infant into the woman's arms, without giving her time to recover her powers of speech, benumbed as she was with horror, sufficiently to make any answer, and let it be done quickly.'

'What?' demanded she.

'Destroy it, and that instantly, in that fire; and let not a trace of it remain !'

A faint scream of deep agony broke from the enfeebled mother, while the woman exclaimed: Wretch! do you think any thing could tempt me to such a deed ?'

'Then give it to me!' He was about to snatch the infant from her arms, but the mother, turning on her a look of mingled despair and entreaty, besought her not to suffer him to take it from her. The woman, apparently struck with compassion at the piteous words, which indeed seemed the last the poor sufferer might ever utter, seeing that she now sank back upon her pillow, with but little sign of life, retreated before his approach, pressing her burden more tightly in her arms.

Then,' said he, you must do the deed; for I swear to you it shall be done, and that instantly!'

Without farther remonstrance, the woman now wrapped the little trembling, wailing infant in her cloak, which she threw hastily around her, and with an air of desperate resolution walked toward the door, saying:

If I am to execute your horrid purpose, you must remain by the bedside of that poor victim of your's; she must not be left an instant in her present state; you must also suffer me to close the door, that the screams of the poor baby may not quite pierce its mother's ears; and give her this,' she added, pouring something from a vial; 'it may dull the consciousness of her misery, at least for a while.'

The man acquiesced without making any answer; administered the draught; and sternly folding his arms, took his place by the side of the unhappy sufferer, who, completely exhausted by the efforts she had just made, still lay almost insensible, only giving evidence of life by the labored heaving of the snow-white chest, which had been completely bared to prevent her from sinking under the excessive heat; and an intense stare, which showed but too plainly that consciousness had survived her strength.

Almost immediately after the woman had shut the door, the screams of the infant became fearfully audible; the man struck his closed fist rudely against his breast, as if to lay prostrate any feeling of compassion that might lurk there; and planting his foot firmly on the floor, seemed determined to continue resolutely insensible to the pleadings of

nature.

After a momentary struggle, he turned his eye toward the female, and perceiving that she was now sinking into a stupor, to which the charitable draught had probably contributed as much as her previous exhaustion, he drew a long breath, and muttering' It is well!' advanced some steps toward the door; but remembering the woman's charge, he returned to the bed-side. By this time, the cries became much fainter; a few minutes more, and they ceased entirely; and shortly after, the woman entered the room, her cloak closely wrapped around her, as if ready to depart.

The man approached her. 'Is all over ?' muttered he.

'Yes,' she replied, in the same low tone, but casting a look of extreme horror at him; the poor innocent shall never trouble you again.' And then, as if to cut short any farther communication with such a wretch, she proceeded to give directions as to the farther treatment of her patient; and was hurrying from the room, when the man stepped before her and put into her hands a purse filled with gold-pieces. The woman instantly dashed it to the floor, and in the most indignant tone exclaimed: 'Do you think I will receive from you the price of blood? Take it back, monster that you are! and may your money perish with you!'

'As you like,' he coldly replied, but not without shuddering slightly at the woman's words: this however you must submit to;' and he again drew forth a handkerchief and advanced toward her. She shrank from his touch, but made no resistance, and in silence permitted him to blind-fold her as before. He then led her down the same flight of stairs, and through the same passage; repeatedly charging her to beware how she made any effort to discover either his name or the house to which she had been brought, which must, he warned her, bring upon her immediate destruction.

The house-door closed upon them, the carriage-door opened, she was assisted in, and carried home by the same apparently unnecessarily circuitous route; the strange being helped her out; and not until her own door closed upon them, did he remove the bandage from her eyes. This done, he repeated his charge in still more emphatic words, and vanished from her sight; and here we will leave the bewildered woman to recover as she best may her scattered senses.

By this time the storm had passed away; the rays of early morning were beginning to streak the east; and Nature, as if refreshed rather than wearied by the recent conflict in which she had been engaged, was fast putting off the dull weeds of night, to array herself in the gorgeous robes of a southern spring day.

Ah! could the storms which rage in the human bosom be as easily dispelled; could the dark passions which devastate the heart of man thus retreat before the sunshine of peace, this world would not be the scene of misery it now is. The fair gardens which decorate the face of ou rmother Earth may for awhile be shorn of their beauty by the raging of the pitiless storm; but they will bloom again, and with renovated vigor and added beauty, when the refreshing alternations of dew and sunshine restore them to life. Alas! is it thus with that source and spring of evil, the human heart? Can peace again take up its abode there, when once it has been rudely thrust out by those monopolizing

guests which rage with more wildness than any outward storm of the elements? Alas, no! We have been told, and every day's experi ence shows us, that 'with man this is impossible.'

LINES ON CARDIFF

CHURCH,

WALES.

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

WHEN Severn's sweeping flood had overthrown
Saint Mary's Church, the preacher then did cry,
'Haste and rebuild the pile:' but not a stone
Resumed its place. Age after age went by,
And Heaven still lacked its due; but Piety
In secret did, we trust, her loss bemoan:
But now her spirit hath put forth its claim
In power, and Charity doth lend her voice:
Let the new church be worthy of its aim,
That in its beauty Cardiff may rejoice:

Oh! in the Past, if cause there were for blame,
Let not our times halt in their better choice!

MANY times have I been questioned as to the 'how and the when' I picked up the pretty little Spanish clipper, sailing in company with me over life's changeable ocean. Till lately, I have refused to satisfy the anxious querists; but as many of them are old friends and constant readers of the KNICKERBOCKER, I have resolved to satisfy their curiosity through its pleasant pages. In a yarn of this kind, one can be permitted to get under way suddenly, and come to abruptly; therefore I shall begin at once.

While cruising in the West Indies, in the old Boston,' I had many opportunities of making acquaintances on the different islands, and I was then of an age and temperament that prevented me from ever permitting such opportunities to escape. In our occasional visits to Havana, I had become acquainted with the family of Don Manuel de Candelario; which consisted of himself, a yet comely wife, a son of my own age, who held a lieutenant's commission in Her Catholic Majesty's Navy, and two daughters; girls as fair as ever threw lovedarts from beneath the convenient shadow of a Castilian mantilla.

The eldest of the twain, Doña ISABELLA, had just crossed Time's tide-wake into her eighteenth year, and was an angel-creation of perfection; one of your quiet, voluptuous, dreamy creatures, without one feature or a single outline in her figure which could be improved by alteration. Her eye was like a liquid lake of night-sky, with a singlestar swimming like a soul in its centre. Her sister CAROLINA was widely different in feature and character. As beautiful, yet in another style; more wild, ever gay and laughing; she was the girl for a