that the prayer which followed would be answered, and that the event would be sanctified to many hearts.

Then came the ceremony of looking upon the face of the dead. Two and two we moved about the head of the corpse, looked in upon it, and passed on. There was the beautiful Maria, in the long sleep of death, with an eternal frost upon those soul-speaking eyes. And the thick locks were parted upon the cold brow, while upon her bosom, as if loving in death, nestled the tiny form of the unnamed child. It was a sight for an angel to weep at, and a tear drop stood upon the snowy cheek of the mother, as if some seraph had looked down from heaven and left it there.

The long procession moved after the bearers, as the bell tolled out its muffled peals, and in a few brief moments the crowd had gone, 'dust was given to dust,' and Maria was left

'Amid the chills and damps

Of the vast plain where Death encamps.'

That afternoon I sought out a statuary, paid him the price of his labor, and directed a simple stone to be erected at the grave; and it stands now, amid the sunshine and the storm, showing to the observer who stops to note it, the simple inscription, Maria the Betrayed?'

Some years afterwards, I was on board a steamer, and just at sundown I stepped upon deck to enjoy the springing breeze. It was a fine evening in September. I seated myself on a scroll upon the upper deck, and watched the changing beauties of the west as the sun died away. At length I was startled by a deep sigh, and looking up, I saw it came from an elderly lady who sat near me. There was something

that attracted me in the expression of her countenance, and left an indistinct impression with me, that she was not altogether a stranger. I gazed the more earnestly, and looking suddenly towards me, she observed my searching glance. Just then I saw she held in her hand a little locket, that enclosed a miniature. To relieve

the embarrassment I spoke.

'Pardon the intrusion, madam, but I think we must have met before.'

She answered with a melancholy smile,

6 Possibly, sir; though I think not, for I am not apt to forget features, and yours are strange to me.'

'I know not why, but you seem as one I have looked much upon,' I replied, and yet your

tones of voice are new.'

6

'I fear if you had known me once, you would scarce recognize me now, for grief has made rough work with me, of late. I was just looking

at the miniature of one who was once my idol, and the rolling ocean wakes up anew the tide of sorrow that I felt when she was torn from my heart. This is all that remains to me of my darling child!'

She handed me the picture, and gave vent to her heart in many tears. I looked upon it, and I saw, at once, what had led me to think her features familar. I held in my hand the miniature of Maria, and it was her mother with whom I conversed! I turned pale with emotion. I almost fainted, till remembering her allusion to the ocean, it occurred to me that she was deceived in the manner of her death. I ventured to ask concerning the loss of her daughter, and as if reluctant to communicate her solemn feelings to a stranger, she simply replied,

'The soul loves to keep its bitter fountains sealed, sir. Maria was unfortunately, without my knowledge, led into marriage with a man who loved her, but who violated the path of right, in inducing her to leave her school clandestinely, and enter into that holy covenant with him. He took her to a distant city, and while on their way, she was lost overboard, and perished in the waves. George kindly wrote me, the moment his own broken heart would admit, and sued for forgiveness it was not in my heart to refuse. But, sir, my daughter was lost,— lost!'

I turned away, to hide my own tears, ashamed that I was a man! And yet in the midst of my abhorrence of the reprobate hypocrisy of the heartless villain, who could plan such deep desolation, and shield himself from its deserved infa-, my by falsehood, I felt glad that where knowledge could do no good, the stricken widow was living in the delusion that her daughter had left the world clothed in the garb of virtue and purity.

The mother, probably, still resides in the cottage where Maria played in guileless infancy; for after allowing for the embellishment of the recital, the reader may rest assured that

'Truth, weeping, tells the mournful tale.'

12*

DEATH OF THE BETRAYED.

The incidents of the following poem are literally true. I had them from the physician of a country village who attended the subject on her death-bed. Her name or parentage was never

known.

ALL beautiful and pale she lay,
A stranger crowd among,
Lingering her loathsome life away -
A wretched girl and young.
Too young for wo seemed she,
For guilt too beautiful;
But anguish raged full angerly,
Wo's tide was at its full,

And poured she out despair's last cup,
Its deadliest dregs, and drank them up!

A wretch to her bright home there came
A fiend incarnate, he,

With honeyed tongue and serpent's aim,
Luring to infamy.

From off his lips fast fell

Smooth words in love's false guise,

Till the charmed victim felt the swell

Of pure affection rise;

And then, her young heart won, his lust

Trampled the blossom in the dust.