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myself responsible for the undertaking. With gave notice to the agents that I would sell the the blessing of Heaven I will be the founder of mine at auction in London about the first of a seminary, and will make up all deficiencies in August. the contributions of others. The institution shall be complete, in every thing necessary to the good education of females.

When I was prepared to set off, I made a parting visit to Seclusaval on the first day of June. My beautiful valley was putting on still new charms. A hundred varieties of trees, vines,

Such was the conclusion of my meditations. I instantly set to work. I headed a subscription shrubs and flowering plants, were blooming in with two thousand dollars, which I bound myself the garden and about the margin of the lake. to pay, upon the condition that double the sum The meadow was green with its first crop of was raised by others. I called meetings of the grass. Birds were merry in every grove. The people, and addressed them earnestly on the sub-cottage on Glenview was rising in beauty; and jeet. In a week my condition was complied with, carpenters were busily constructing other cottaand six thousand dollars were secured for the ges in pleasant situations. Baylor, my faithful seminary. The location at the country church, steward, now recommended another improvement was named in the paper, and was preferred by which I adopted instantly. He had ascertained me on account both of the beauty of the situa- that the spring which flowed out of Craggyhead tion, and its shorter distance from Seclusa. It through the glen that opened by the side of Glenwas in the valley that led up to my intended view, had its source at so high an elevation, that it home. Seven gentlemen were nominated as might be conducted in pipes to my cottage for trustees; of whom I refused to be one, because I family use, and the overplus made to water the was soon to be absent on a long perigrination, and garden on the hill side. because I was a young bachelor. A plan of the building was soon agreed on, and contracts made for the erection of it without delay. I told the trustees to adopt a liberal scale of building, and and if they fell short of funds, to consider me responsible for half the deficiency. Thus I had put a most benevolent enterprise into operation; and I felt a pleasure in reflecting on this good deed—a pleasure in some respects more heartfelt ny, I rode on horseback to the nearest stage-road, and consoling, than all the gratification that I had experienced from the treasures of my gold mines, or the delightful scenery of Seclusaval. It was a pleasure which, if less exhilarating at the moment, was felt to be of such durable stuff, that time could not wear it away, nor could misfortune poison its sweetness.

"It is an excellent notion, (said I ;) and I will order you a set of iron pipes in Philadelphia. Meantime have the ditch made and the pipes laid, in the course of the following winter." "It shall be done, sir," was the answer to this aud all my orders to my worthy Baylor.

Having given directions about the various improvements to be made in my mountainous baro

and then travelled rapidly to New York, where I embarked for Liverpool in a packet ship on the fifteenth of June.

Before I had engaged in this labor of love, circumstances had directed my thoughts to the subject of a voyage to London. I desired to sell my Georgia gold nine, and to invest the proceeds in some productive stock. I was advised to sell in England, where speculation in gold and silver mines had risen almost to a mania. Mining companies had agents abroad, exploring America from Chili to Carolina in search of mines. In A notable instance of this sort occurred when London I could sell under all the advantages of our ship was leaving the harbor of New York. competition among the buyers. Though I had We met in the narrows a French ship from Borreceived constantly increasing offers for the pur- deaux. The day was fine, and the passengers chase, yet none came up to what I considered a were on deck admiring the scenery of the noble fair price. bay. The near approach of the vessels turned the attention of each party on the other. I was

Continued explorations had laid open the extent of the vein along the hill side, and proved immediately struck with the appearance of a the richness of the ore. Several mineralogists lady on the French ship. She was dressed in had examined it; two of these were agents of mourning. Her form and stature first, then her the Londoners, aud all gave me satisfactory at- black locks and dark eyes, (as they seemed to testations of the value of the mine. These and me,) reminded me of Judith Bensaddi. Her all other needful documents being provided, 1 eyes seemed to be directed towards me individu


The thought of my going to London, where, as I supposed, my beloved Judith dwelt, kept her dear image more constantly and more vividly present to my mind, thau it had been during the two last years of my busy and enterprising life. The renewed habit of meditating on this dear lost one, gave a strange susceptibility to my fancy. Often when I obtained but an imperfect view of some young lady of her size and somewhat like features, I conceived that it was Judith herself, and my heart fluttered as if the notion were not imaginary.

ally. The more I looked at her, the more did I duce. Nor could I believe that she would meet think her like my Judith. I was so fascinated me now, without the most distressing emoby this apparition, that I forgot to use the tele-tions.

scope in my hand, until the vessels were full Still, when I found myself on the eve of detwenty rods apart. When I directed the instru-parture, and no remnant of business served to ment towards this interesting object, I could get divert my thoughts from the tender theme; my but a momentary glance of her features; but that heart began to smite me sorely, for having been glance put me in a tremor, for I saw those lovely so long in London, and at last intending to go dark eyes still fixed upon me, and the whole face away, never to return, without even a word of was to my conception the face of my lost one. inquiry after Judith Bensaddi. She would not So persuaded was I for some minutes that it have treated me with such cruel neglect, had she could be only she, that I would have returned known that I was so near her dwelling place. I instantly to the city, if an opportunity had been was aware too, that I must feel exceedingly ungiven me. But before the pilot left us in his boat, happy, if I left my ardent curiosity unsatisfied, I had reasoned myself into doubt, as I soon after and learnt nothing of her, when I could so easily did into utter disbelief, of the truth of my im- gain intelligence. I therefore resolved to call at pression. How can I believe, (said I to my- her father's house in Piccadilly, and having obself.) that Judith of London, married no doubt tained whatever intelligence I deemed interestand settled in her native country, should be just ing, to hasten away from a place that contained now landing at New York in a French ship from an object so painfully dear to my heart. Bordeaux?" Thus I soon got rid of the agitation produced by the strange lady. By the end of the voyage I ceased to think of the circum




I had brought with me a memorandum which Judith gave me in Philadelphia, containing an exact description of the situation and appearance of her father's house. Guided by this, I found the house without difficulty. Just as I had satisfied myself that there was no mistake, and was approaching the door, I was startled by see

On my arrival in London, I applied myself instantly to the business on which I had come. I called on the officers of several mining companies and exhibited my documents. I advertised ing a young gentleman come out with an ele

the sale of my gold mine in three of the principal journals. My papers and statements were authenticated by two agents, and an American gentleman of science who had seen the mine and knew my character. Thus I was able to give purchasers the most ample assurance that all was right. Bidders manifested a high spirit of competition, and ran up the price to the unexpected sum of twenty-five thousand pounds sterling. equivalent to one hundred and twenty thousand dollars.

gantly dressed lady of Judith's size. A cold shudder ran through my nerves, when I con'ceived that this might be Judith and her husband. But I was soon relieved by a sight of the lady's blue eyes and light hair. When they had gone, I stepped up to the door, and to my astonishment read upon the knocker the name-not of Nathan Bensaddi-but of Sir David Monteith. Yet this must be the very house described in the memorandum-remarkable in its appearance, and one of the most magnificent on this splendid street.

Presently I knocked and was admitted into the hall. From the porter I learned that Sir David Monteith had occupied the house but a few months, and that the previous occupant was a Jew, named Bensaddi, as well as the porter could remember. I sent in my card to Sir David, reBut how could I stay a month in London, and questing the favor of a brief interview. After I not even inquire for my lost Judith? Yet I did had waited ten minutes, I was ushered into a parso, though I did it with an aching heart. But, lor, where I met a brawny red haired gentleman, although I felt the most anxious curiosity to know who bowed with haughty coldness, and stood beher present state, I dreaded to learn it; and al- fore me as if to signify. "What is your business, though I longed most intensely to see her lovely sir?" I took the hint and instantly inquired, face once more, yet I shrunk from an interview"Have I the houor to speak to Sir David Monwith one so beloved, when the sight of her, and teith?” You have," and another cold bow. the living look of those eyes that had awakened I came to this house, sir, expecting to find it unquenchable love in my heart, could only pain occupied by Mr. Bensaddi, the banker. I desime now, and might affect me beyond the power red to see some of his family with whom I beof self-control. To see her as the wife of anoth- came acquainted two or three years ago in Amerier, was intolerable-I could not encounter the ca. Being a stranger in the city, I would take shock of feeling that such an interview must pro-it as a favor if you would give me such informa



Having thus successfully concluded my chief business. I spent a few days in making purchases of books, scientific apparatus, and various other articles, for myself or for the female academy. I was then prepared to leave London for Paris.

tion of him or his family, as might enable me to she would rather labor for her daily bread, than find them." see her father's creditors go unpaid. She sepaThe cold haughtiness of Sir David relaxed im-rated from her villainous husband, I infer-yet I mediately; he saw that I was not a designing do not know the particulars-however, when I nor an idle intruder. He asked me politely to came here to reside, about four months ago, I be seated, and began to tell me several things in heard with sorrow, that she had gone in bad answer to my inquiries, until he gave me the in- health to the south of France, along with her telligence, of which the following statement ex- father, whose health was also very low; and presses the substance. about two months ago, I was grieved to learn, that after burying her unfortunate parent, she died of a broken heart, and was laid by her father's side."

Here my feelings overcame me, and I exclaimed, "Dead! Did you say that Judith Beusaddi is dead?"

You mean Mrs. Brannigan, I presume. I grieve to say that she is unquestionably in her grave. I saw the fact announced in the papers."

"I will with pleasure give what information I possess, respecting Mr. Bensaddi and his family. It is a mournful story. I never knew any of his family, but I was personally acquainted with him in his character of banker. About two years ago I had some claims on him, and hearing at Edinburgh, where I then lived, some alarming accounts of his losses, I hastened to London to see him. He had lost heavy sums by failures of houses indebted to him; but he so well satis- When the baronet thus solemnly confirmed the fied me of his safety, that I not only left what I doleful intelligence, I groaned-I gasped for had before in his hands, but increased the deposit breath-my eyes grew dim-my ears tingledto a considerable amount. No banker in the and I was sinking into a swoon, when Sir David kingdom had more of the public confidence, both observing my situation, sprang up and brought in respect to his personal uprightness and his a glass of water, some of which he sprinkled on sound condition as a banker. He seemed to have my face, and the rest he gave me to drink. This completely recovered from the shock, when about timely application revived me, and I gradually a year ago, I was astonished to learn his sudden recovered the faculty of speech. I then felt it and total bankruptcy. This catastrophe was incumbent on me to explain the cause of my brought about by one of the most artfully con- deep emotion at the news of my Judith's sad trived frauds, of two as nefarious villains as ever fate. I gave him, therefore, a succinct account deserved a halter. The one of these was old of my acquaintance with her, including the chief Levi, a Jew, whom he had imprudently trusted incidents of our mournful love story. He was too far as an agent, and lately as a small partner so interested by the narrative, that he called in in the bank. This old villain combined with the his lady and a beautiful blue-eyed daughter of other, who was no less than the son-in-law of eighteen, and after presenting me to them, and Beusaddi himself. His name is Brannigan-he explaining the object of my call at the house, he is an Irishman-a smooth-tongued hypocrite, who requested me to repeat my story to them. I did imposed on Miss Bensaddi by the most lamb-like so, and went more fully into the particulars. I airs, until he made her his wife. After he had spoke with a natural pathos, prompted by my drawn what he could from Bensaddi in the way feelings, and so affected the ladies, that they wept of dowry, and was admitted as a partner in the at my story, and continued to shed tears for sevebank, he joined Levi, and by embezzlement and ral minutes after I had concluded. This symother villainous manœuvres, which have never pathy on their part, unsealed the fountains of my been fully unfolded, they got most of Bensaddi's own tears, and I uttered my lamentations with funds into their clutches, and then left him to meet a freedom, which nothing but the tears of my all the demands of the creditors. So vast was the auditors could have justified in a stranger like sum which they embezzled, that on settlement myself. After our feelings had subsided a little, the remaining assets were found sufficient to I rose to take my leave; but they pressed me to pay the honest creditors only twelve shillings in stay and spend the evening with them. the pound. Now Bensaddi's amiable daughter I staid several hours. Lady Monteith added came forward, and did an act which deserves to some particulars that she had heard respecting be engraven forever on brass and marble. She the Bensaddi family and their misfortunes-all had a large fortune left her by an uncle. This, going to confirm ny belief, that the hapless JuI presume, she retained in her own hands by the dith had married an arch deceiver, and had sunk marriage settlement; for although she was nei- to the grave in the flower of her youth, brokenther legally nor morally bound to pay her father's hearted. There at last, (said I to Lady M.,) debts, yet she promptly came forward, and at her many sorrows have come to an end-all lovely the expense of her whole fortune, paid up all as she was in the beauties and the virtues of the just claims to the uttermost farthing; saying that earth, she is lovelier now, when arrayed in the

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unfading charms of a glorified spirit. It is self-south, into the districts where wine and silk are ishness, therefore, in me to complain of a dis- cultivated. Here I engaged four protestant famipensation of Heaven, which has taken her from lies to come over and settle on my estate. My a world that was not worthy of her, and has left object was to employ them in the culture of the me only this memorial of her lovely features." vine and the mulberry, in a warm sandy valley On saying these words, I took out the miniature of my estate-a place thought to be excellently from my bosom, and slipping the golden chain adapted to these productions. I visited Clairover my head, put the open picture into Lady font, and with difficulty found the obscure graves Monteith's hand. She expressed her admiration of Bensaddi and his daughter. No inscription of the countenance, and handed the case to her marked the spot-no friend resorted to it with tears. The sexton, after some consideration, pointed out the two hillocks, side by side. "This, (said he,) is the father's, and this the daughter's." "This, then. (said I,) is my Judith's grave!" It was all that I could say. I shed a thousand bitter tears on the holy earth; and having thus recorded my grief, I went to Bordeaux.

daughter, who looked steadfastly at the portrait for a minute-then lifting her eyes glistening with tears, she said to me, "How unfortunate, that one so lovely should have been deceived into a fatal marriage, and thus taken from a gentleman who could appreciate her beauty and virtue, and would have made her happy. How unfortunate!" I felt that this was not a fashionable compliment, but the unstudied effusion of a sympathetic heart; and I loved the beautiful speaker for the interest she took in my ill-fated love and its more ill-fated object.

When I expressed a desire to copy the article in the newspaper, which announced my Judith's melancholy death, a search was instantly made among Sir David's files, and the paper being produced, I read as follows:

Near the last of September, I embarked with my colonists for Philadelphia, where we landed after a voyage of five weeks. Here I chartered a schooner to carry my colonists, my water pipes, and various articles of furniture to Charleston, the port most convenient to Seclusaval. I intended to go by land directly to my native country of Rockbridge, and after seeing my friends there, to continue my journey to Seclusaval, to travel theuce no more, until I passed “the bourne from which no travel returns."

In Philadelphia I made a safe investment of the greater part of the money obtained for my gold mine. The stocks which I purchased then

"Died, at the village of Clairfont, in the south of France, on the 20th of last month, (April,) Nathan Bensaddi, late Banker of London; and on the 30th of the same month, his daughter, the unhappy wife of Patrick Brannigan. She and afterwards, would altogether, yield me a revhad gone with her father to seek health and re-enue of more than six thousand dollars a year. tirement for him and for herself, from unpropitious skies and more unpropitious connexions. But bright suns and kind strangers could neither restore their bodies to health, nor their hearts to enjoyment. They have found repose in the grave. This notice is sent by a surviving friend: that all who yet care for a once flourishing, but now ruined family, may know the sad fate of the father aud the daughter who trusted and were betrayed."

I felt so melancholy, after reading this notice, that I took leave of the worthy baronet and his family; although kindly invited to become their guest, during as many days as I might choose to remain in London. I could stay no longer in a city where such distressing intelligence came upon me, and where all was strange and now gloomy to my imagination. I hurried over to Paris, where I spent a fortnight, and endeavored to divert my melancholy thoughts by looking at the gay sights of that metropolis of pleasure. But I had come in vain; unless it were that I purchased some books and other articles for my retreat in Seclusaval, to which I designed now to confine myself, as soon as I could make the necessary preparations. From Paris I went to the



The moonbeams wavered across the spot,
Where an infant gently slept,

And beside his couch an untiring watch
The fair young mother kept.

She watched with the beautiful smile of love,
But an angel was watching too-
And a ray from her wings as she floated by
On the slumbering child she threw.


His innocent face grows warm and bright,
The red lips softly part,

And each breath that the rosy sleeper draws
Is a joy-throb from the heart:

His spirit is sporting 'mid strange delights,
Rich bowers-and happier beans,

Than any that fall on our pilgrim-path-
Except in the bliss of dreams.


A boy was running amid the flowers,

And chasing the insects gay

"Till beneath a shadowing rose-tree's bloom,
He wearily paused from play.

He sank on the turf-and Sleep flew down-
And smilingly kissed his eyes-

He dreamed-and his dreams were of lovelier fields-
Encircled by sunnier skies.


A beautiful maiden with pensive brow

Had passively sunk to rest

With her white arms folded in Grecian grace On her peacefully heaving breast.

She lay like a Nymph on a coral couch,

Faultlessly fair, and free

And the dimples were soft that crossed her cheek, As light, on a star-gemmed sea.


The spirit of gentle dreams flew by,

And poised on her pinions near;

She thought that her sister had strayed from Heaven, And was pensively sleeping there.

Like the bird of the rainbow-glancing wings,

She hummed in her ear a strain,

That the spirits sing in their sparkling clime, To recall her to bliss again.


A Peet was conning the fervid verse,

Of a Bard, most dear to him,

And the midnight lamp grew dull and pale, And the lettered page grew dim.

He closed the volume, and sought his rest,

With a mind and heart on flame, The Poet was poor, and his couch was mean, But he dreamed that night of fame.


A weary man, worn down with toil, In life's tumultuous mart;

Wended his way to his silent home,

With a heavily-laden heart.

His home was dreary, his soul was sad, But his sleep was rife with gleams From the sun of a far Elysian shoreFrom the glorious land of dreams.


A way-worn wanderer, bowed with years,
Reclined 'neath a sunset-sky,
And watched the rays of the fading eve,
And the river that murmured by.
The twilight air was sweet and calm,

As the tones of a well-strung lute;
And the old man's fevered brow grew cool,
As he sat by the threshold mute.


Then dreams he dreamed of departed days,
As he languidly rested there,
His withered limbs seemed strong once more,
And his spirit scorned despair.

And down from Heaven there fell the tones,
That had thrilled him in happier times,
And had haunted his heart, like the holy hymn
Of Virgins at vesper-chimes.


O! shadowy realm! that lies between
A barren and thirsty strand,

And the breezy waves of the golden sea,
That lave the Immortal land.

O! shadowy realm! there sometimes come
On thy strange wind's music-wings,
Faint echoes of songs that we have not heard,
Dim glimpses of unseen things.


Ethereal spirit of blissful dreams,
Thou art not the child of night,

For thine eyes are sunny as summer rills,
And thy form is girt with light:

An angel stirring the sluggish thought,
Thou com'st when darkness lowers,
But thy path is marked by a million beams,
And thy words are wrought in flowers.

"God is his own interpreter, And he will make it plain."

P. H. H.


History teaches two great lessons; one is the providence of God in the development and education of the human race, the other knowledge of human nature as seen in the individual. The moral evil that has existed in the world, and that still continues to exist, through the free agency of human action, is among the dark things that perplex the understanding; but after all our speculations on this subject; this "burthen of the mystery," that weighs upon the reasoning mind and the devout spirit,-we can only arrive at one conclusion-it is "past finding out." Then comes the consolation of Faith:

He will make it plain in his own time and way, and we, in the mean time, may strengthen our confidence in the benevolence and wisdom of his government by a retrospect of what men are and what they have been. When we look “far back in the ages," we find man, every where, civilized as well as barbarous, warring with his fellowman; tribe against tribe, and nation against nation. In modern times the sword is still the arbitrator between states mutually offended, but the progress of humanity mollifies the manifestations of hostility. The sacrifice of life is less, honors accorded to conquerors are not so vainglorious, unscrupulous aggression is more rare,—

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