"Ask me not now," replied Morni, as the hour of midnight rushed to his mind, and he felt that though years were granted to his nature as man, yet would they waste away, unnoticed and unfelt, amid the burning emotions which swelled within his heart like lava. I cannot tell thee now. The moon presseth high to her noon. Nay, stay me not," he exclaimed, disentangling her grasp from his mantle ;-"I would not bring down ruin on us both. There is a power-Nay, unhand me, Ethnea, I dare not disobey-for death"

“Death!" reiterated the princess, in a tone which spake the endurance of martyrdom, and defied its tortures; while her eye flashed with the proud energy to resist and brave all things for him she loved, which makes the character of woman godlike in the hour of peril and distress. "Death! and fearest thou death for my sake, and in these arms? Oh! thou know'st not yet the love of woman;-deep as the grave; as firm and immortal as the ties of adamant which bind thee to death forever. "Not death! No-no-not death I fear," murmured the distracted prince, as he clasped her in agony to his trembling, exhausted frame, and felt that each moment of delay might involve the innocent and the loving in the tremendous doom which menaced him. It is not death I shun, Ethnea, but an everlasting curse, which peals in mine ear like the trump of doom, and rises around me, even now, to my very lips; an ocean, mad, chafed, inexorable-its dark bosom blazing with the lightning. 'Tis there! look-there," he muttered, as he heard the yell of the wave around him, and bore the terrified Ethnea from the spot.

"Gracious heaven!" exclaimed the princess, bewildered and breathless with fear, as she heard his wild ravings; "if thou lovest me still, speak not so madly, I am true to thee-true as the moon to her bright heaven. I have loved thee with a strength which death could not conquer, nor time rend from my heart.

• No more—no more," cried Morni; "thy words are as fire-I cannot hear thee-I dare not listen longer; a spell-"

"To the love I bear thee there is a spell neither in the lightning nor the tempest," answered the faithful maiden, as with a force desperate from terror and despair, she held him in her grasp. "Let the lightning stream above us,— it but canopies the bright heaven as it opens to receive us. Let the wild thunder peal,-it utters not one tone more terrible or fearful than the frenzy which quivers on thy lip. Let the water rise and roar around us, death cresting every wave, and speaking his dread summons in the deep and awful yell of the element-Morni, for thee I defy all; for thee the lightning of heaven is dim, the thunder hath lost its mysterious voice of doom, and the wave that power which dragged thee down to register thee with the dead."

"It's dead!" iterated Morni, stung to madness with the conflicting thoughts which dashed and ebbed, like the waves of which she spake;"It's dead! Ethnea, I cannot see thee longer kneel in this agony of prayer to one, who can neither aid nor answer thee. My lip burns with the secret, and it must burst its fiery prison, and bury thee and me in its fearful and avenging desolation. Thou kneel'st and pray'st as a woman; thou speak'st the strong love which glows within thine heart, and kindles in thine eye, as a bright gem guarded in the bosom of the earth. Ethnea! thy love lingers on a flower, which the tempest threatens momently to rend from its stem. Thine eye rests but on the crested foam, which, while thou gazest, the black wave extinguished forever. Can'st thou then love?"

"Thee, and for ever," replied the devoted maiden, while her arms, like ivy circling the ruin, were still clasped around his heaving form. "Rave as thou wilt, thou canst not tear me from thee;-we have loved-so let us die. Should not the death of those who love be, in an hour like this-the last embrace of heart to heart?"

"Yet hear me, rash girl, who

would'st make the doom of one that of both"-and as he spake, his lofty form towered with a grandeur which partook the dignity of the nature to which he felt himself returning,"Hear me one moment, ere the word of doom go forth, and it be too late to arrest its flight of vengeance-Hear me. The form to which thou clingest in the mad devotion of thy love, is not of earth-'tis Spirit; and bound to return to its subtle and invisible nature by an oath registered in a far and unknown world. Midnight must witness the fulfilment of that oath, or I am the eternal slave of a mysterious power, which human eloquence cannot turn from its purpose, or its prayer of agony change or soften. Why wilt thou cling thus, bride of misery and perdition? Even now the lightnings blaze above us, and around us rise the black and suffocating waters to engulph their victims !"

"Because I love thee," answered the maiden, rushing once more to his embrace, and burying her face in his bosom. "Look on me-speak to me again, spirit though thou art, and I bless the blow which lays me cold at thy feet?"

Silent and irresolute he pressed her to his beating heart,-his burning lip rested upon hers, and the warm tears, like dew upon the lily, flowed on her white, cold cheek. A deep and hollow sound rolled through the castle. It was the peal of midnight. The appointed hour for his return had arrived, and he yet lingered in the embrace of Eth

nea.

A weight, as that of a mountain, rested on him, pressing him and the helpless burthen he bore to the earth. He was rooted to the spot, as by chains of adamant, which bind together the barriers of creation. In a moment a shock, like that of the thunderbolt, rushed between himself and Ethnea, rending them asunder, and dashing her prostrate to the ground. The vengeance of the Naiad was upon him, the hour had passed for the fulfilment of his oath,—the resumption of his spiritual nature was forbidden,-the doom had been pronounced which made him dust for ever; and a cold sensation, like that of approaching death, which brought with it the humbling consciousness that he was but a thing

of clay, shot through his veins, curdling up each drop it touched.

But the deep peal of midnight was a whisper, compared with the roar of the elements, which battled without like a resistless and numberless foe, contending for entrance. The fatal truth darted to his mind, as he heard the yell of the tempest, and the dash of the wave. The castle rocked to its foundation, and the ground trembled beneath him. He tore the senseless Ethnea from the ground, and was about to rush from the bower, when, through the dim and misty light which filled the passage, he saw the waves rushing towards him with a speed and strength which impel their flight in the hour of vengeance. Desperate with the thought that the rashness of Ethnea left her to share his terrible doom, he fell on his knee

Almighty spirit!" he exclaimed, "let not the innocent and the loving fall with the guilty and disobedient. Even while I pray, strike me while I kneel. 1 reck not for myself. Death were better than this agony-this deep and burning shame of dragging her down to share my fate, and feel thy vengence. -Great spirit, hear me !-Spare, oh! spare my bride."

The waves still dashed on, deep, black and impenetrable. No spell stayed the progress of the element; no answer was given to his agomzed prayer. He looked upon Ethnea; cold, pale and heavy she lay upon his arm, like one rescued from the death to which each moment hurried her.He felt there was no hope of safety for him. To rescue her, was the resolution which rallied the last energies terror and exhaustion had left him.Through the passage, egress was impossible. The waves were now on the very threshold of the summer-house. While he lingered, bent on the preservation of Ethnea, yet uncertain how to accomplish it, cries of agony, horror and prayer, reached him.

"Oh God!" exclaimed the wretched Morni, staggering beneath his burthen, pale and helpless as itself-“these hideous sounds are from the dead and dying. The crime of the mortal and vengeance of the spirit have piled an altar upon which thousands must suffer and die. Doomed!-doomed!" he con

tinued, "no flight! no rescue!-Be'st thou spirit of water or hell," he cried, furious with despair, and glancing, as he looked around, on a small door, which, partially covered with the foliage of plants, had remained unnoticed "I defy thee-Ha ha!-I'll baffle thee!"

As he spoke, pressing Ethnea still closer to his breast, he darted from the spot; and dashing his whole weight against the door, it burst open.

A dark and precipitous path led from the door downward to the lake. The wind blew with the rage of a hurricane, which threatened each moment to dash himself and Ethnea to the earth. The moon was dark, and almost invisible; how changed from that orb, whose radiance seemed to welcome his return to earth! The clouds swept in black, disordered masses through the heavens, while their thick shadows floated along the earth like spectres. A towering and massive tree, whose strength had been nursed by the tempest, and which stood at a short distance from the door, bent to the strong blast, and with a mighty crash, rent from its roots, fell to the earth. He tried to advance -his garments were torn to atoms, and, save for the desperate might with which he drew Ethnea to his breast, the tempest threatened momently to tear her from him. Like boughs of cypress upon the shroud of the dead, her hair lay scattered upon her marble features, as she lay, like a drooping flower, bending to the breath of the

storm.

Still from behind rolled on the waves with a rapidity which now filled half the summer-house. Desperate, though faint the hope which urged him down the bank, amid the fury which burst around him, and the desolation which

filled his path. Blind and headlong he plunged forward; but farther advance was checked by the waters which boiled up from the lake, swelling as with the pride of their destructive power, and making those rich gardens, through which he had that night wandered, a mass of hideous ruin. Heaven and earth seemed linked for the punish ment of the victim, and their strength, as of one mighty host, sent forth to chain the perjurer to his bed of torture.

The waves were at his feet-still higher and higher they advanced.— Those before and behind him were now joined. He stirred not. With the last struggle of exhausted strength he raised Ethnea-it was vain-her garments were dripping, and her long hair streamed upon the waters.

"One word-one word," he cried, as he felt a faint shudder thrill through his frame, and bending over her, he heard a sigh from her lip; "one word, Ethnea-our time is brief. The doom rings in our ear-one word; that thou forgivest me."

I love thee," murmured Ethnea, as her head sank back upon the wave, and she dropped dead from his arms.

Ethnea, I follow thee!" exclaimed the frantic Morni, twining his fingers in his matted hair, while the waves rose fearfully around him, choaking his utterance; "the grave unites us forever."

He grasped the body, and folding it to his breast, they sank together.

The vengeance of the Naiad was not sated with the life of her victim alone. The island was one scene of suffering and death. Every tenant of the castle was destroyed, and the castle itself buried that fatal night in the element, which made their tomb for Morni and Ethnea.

THE existing war with Mexico, although it is one of many now being prosecuted by the nations of the earth, has this distinctive feature, viz., that it requires for its prosecution an increase in the expenditure of a nation peculiarly commercial. It is true, that Russia wages war with the Circassians, France with the Algerines, England in India, and France and England jointly in the Rio Plata. These are four wars carried on by the leading nations of Europe, each against smaller states, and for purposes of aggrandizement; but a feature common to them all is, that each nation is engaged with one so much less in strength, that the ordinary military peace establishments of the greater powers are sufficient to cope with the utmost exertions of those they engage. Hence the people of the respective countries are not called upon to pay much, if any, additional for the prosecution of hostilities, nor are their mercantile pursuits disturbed. The theatres of action are so remote from the ordinary circles of trade, as scarcely to alarm even the sensitiveness of commercial men. Wars thus conducted, without enhancing the national expenditure or interrupting trade-no matter how atrocious soever they may be in their nature, derive little sympathy from the people at large. When the United States were attacked by the Mexican troops, and the vigorous movement of the army of occupation served in two days to hurl back upon Mexican soil the utterly broken remnant of the invading army, a speedy termination of hostilities was looked for. Without wishing to prosecute a ceaseless and wasteful war, like that of France in Algiers, or England in India, the United States seized the moment of victory to proffer the olive branch. One of those political paroxysms which periodically overtake a state like Mexico, approaching its dissolution, suddenly shook the feeble despot from his seat, and brought Santa Anna again to the head of affairs. The exertions of the VOL. XIX-NO. CI.

5

United States, which had been somewhat relaxed pending the progress of events that deposed Paredes and restored Santa Anna, were suddenly, on the consummation of the latter event, reinvigorated. The seaboard, from its remotest north, was stript of its most efficient companies to reinforce the army of invasion, indicating that the healthy season on the gulf coast is to be availed of to prosecute the war with the utmost vigor, and perhaps with a change of policy in relation to the treatment of the conquered people. The events which have transpired thus far show pretty conclusively that the people of Mexico take little or no interest in the change of individuals at the head of affairs. The mutations are mostly conceived and effected by a few officers, in whose intrigues the people have no sympathy. As far as the armies of the United States have yet come in contact with the people, the utmost leniency has been shown them, and the effect seems to be different from what might reasonably be expected. The persons of wealth and influence finding themselves rather relieved from burthens and benefited by the war, by no means exert themselves to effect a peace. They are to be negotiated with, it appears, only under the prick of the bayonet. The occupation of the large towns and cities, followed by severe requisitions upon all the property in the country, is apparently the only means by which that popular sentiment, to which Santa Anna pretends implicitly to submit, can receive a peaceful bias. If Mexico cannot furnish provision for a large army she can supply the means of purchasing it, and the steam marine of the United States can keep all her seaports stocked with an abundance of food and munitions of war. these circumstances, the hopes that were indulged of a speedy restoration of peace have subsided, and the contest will probably be prolonged for some months at least.

Under

The war in Mexico is of a character