village club. His friends, however, and upon its bosom, may find a grave where Caroline among the rest, wished it other-they expected pleasure and safety." wise. As they wished, they believed, and "Mother! you alarm me! Do you resoon persuaded themselves that Charles ally believe Charles to be a drunkard? was blameless, and common report mis-I am distressed. We, as you know, are taken. to be married in a month, and oh! what Not so, however, did the mother of shall I do?" and overcome by the violence Caroline. She was a mother, and posof her emotions, she fell, sobbing viosessed that lynx-eyed watchfulness for lently, on her mother's bosom. the happiness of her child which ever "Be calm, my daughter," replied Mrs. marks the matron whose soul is alive to Williams, "1 am satisfied! that these its maternal responsibilities. She was foul reports about Charles are too true.— jealous for her daughter's peace, and with I regret being forced to believe so, but the instinctive sagacity of a mother, had our regret will not alter facts, and your read the future drunkard in the betrothed happiness requires, and it is my wish, that

of her child!

you defer your marriage until we are all One afternoon, the mother and daugh- That, dear mother, is a serious quesassured of Charles's innocence or guilt." ter sat together in the parlor at their retion," said Caroline, recovering her calmspective tasks, when Mrs. Williams broke ness; "my word is pledged Charles has a long and usual silence by saying, in a made extensive preparation at much exsubdued and feeling manner, pense, and I cannot lightly trifle with his "My dear Caroline will not be angry affections. But I will decide to-morrow." if I do a mother's duty, and express my fears of Charles."

"True, my child, it is a serious question, and your sacred pledge should not "What fears, mother?" replied the be lightly broken, but your future happiblushing girl, while her heart throbbed ness or ruin is also a serious question.violently against her heaving bosom. Nor do you violate your pledge if, as I "You know," continued the matron, believe, Mr. Rogers be intemperate.— "that it is said Mr. Rogers drinks. You never pledged to marry a drunkard, Should that be true, alas! my child, for but the sober and virtuous Mr. R. If he your future happiness! It will be de-has deceived you, his is the guilt, and not stroyed, and sooner would I follow thee to yours. He is not the man you pledged. the tomb than to the bridal bed, if the His character was assumed for a purpose. bridegroom were either a drunkard o: When he appears in his true character, Fikely to be so." he is no longer the same, and cannot The blush deepened on the face of therefore hold you to your vow. Let Caroline as she timidly inquired, "Have your better judgment triumph, my child, you any proof, dear mother, of Charles's over your affections, and though the strugguilt? I know his enemies charge hingle may be painful, believe me, it will not with that offence, but he denies it, and equal the agony of the drunkard's wife!" cannot-no, I will not, doubt the truth of my betrothed!"

Caroline made no reply, but hastened, weeping, to her chamber; her mother also

"Have a care, my child," responded retired to pray for the success of her efthe anxious mother, "how you trust toort for her daughter's weal.

implicitly the assertions of men. They

are too often like the young ice-fair, bu

That evening,Charles and Caroline had long conversation upon the subject of

deceitful-and they who trust themselves her mother's warning, and it need hardly

be said that the lover's vows and protes-veiled behind the curtain; but though untations were more successful than the seen, it was there, dark as desolation, mother's warning. dreary as the poles, ruinous as the aveng

Alas, how potent are the spells of the ers of insulted Heaven. affections! How recklessly they lead One evening, Charles's return was detheir possessors to trample on the plainest layed unusually late. It was the first dictates of their more faithful understand-evening he had spent from home since ings. Urged, by their necromancy, man his marriage. Mrs. Rogers sat at her will plunge into evident destruction, per-work-table in evident uneasiness. The suading himself, at the time, that it is a clock struck nine. She thought of her perfect elysium; and confiding woman mother's warning, and a cold chill ran will seek a home in a drunkard's bosom, tremblingly over her slender frame. She full in the face of clear conviction; her rose, put fresh fuel upon the fire, arranged affections veiling his crime and inspiring every thing in the nicest order, and rea baseless hope of innocency. There are "Things, which we love with such deep

tenderness,

But, through that love, to learn how much of woe

Dwells in an hour like this."

sumed her seat.

The old church bell tolled ten; another leaden hour passed, and again its heavy strokes sent indefinable terrors to her heart as it announced eleven o'clock. She thought of the happy past and the imagined future of her bridal dreams, and then of the mystery of the passing hour. She could bear no more. Tears, friendly, gushing, scalding tears, came to her relief: they were the first-would they had been the last, she shed after the wedding.

A month passed with the wonted celerity of swift-winged Time, and the gay chime of the village bells with their merry ding dong, announced the marriage of our heroine to the gaping gossips of the quiet town of The old women shook their grey heads and muttered in ominous tones to themselves, "Heaven forefend thee, Miss Caroline: no good ever came from a drunkard's marriage ;" Opening the door, a sad and melancholy while the bright-eyed maidens laughed

and sung

"How sweet to hear those village bells Ding dong; ding dong; ding dong

So merrily for a wedding."

Soon, a loud knock arrested her ear.-

spectacle met her feverish gaze. Her Charles was there, but O, how changed! It was not the tall manly form she used to greet, but a senseless lump borne on the arms of two men. She spoke not:

For three months, the star of conjugal words she had none-but pointing her love shed its balmiest rays upon the hap-unwelcome visitors to the parlor, they py pair. Their dispositions were conge-deposited their burden on the sofa and nial, and peace built its downy nest in departed.

their quiet home. Charles prospered in Poor Caroline! that was a dreadful his business, and Caroline secretly tri-night for her. She neither moved nor umphed in the temperance of her husband slept, but sat gazing with tearful eyes, and the falsity of her mother's charges. and sobs that mingled in pitiful cadence Indeed, she ceased to fear the truth of with the moan of the night wind, upon those hated suspicions, and clung with the form of her unconscious husband.undoubting tenacity to the hope of a hap-She was watching, with the terrible pic>py life. Alas! she little thought the ful-ture of despair, the wreck of her fondest filment of her mother's prophecy so near; hopes-her husband was a drunkard! she knew not the fearful scene that lay At last, the slow morning broke in with

130

The Slighted Warning.

cheerless beam upon her sorrow, but it for how could I live, a drunkard, under

brought no gleam of hope for her. Her your innocent gaze. 'husband, upon awakening from his un- cannot endure it. holy sleep, coolly repulsed her kind. at-jured wife, adieu. tentions with a silence worse than death.

It kills me now. I Once more, dear, in

CHARLES ROGERS.

He looked with listless and unmeaning Caroline's head grew dizzy as she read eye upon the distressed creature before this strange epistle. Seizing her bonnet, him, and, as if ashamed of the sorrow he she rushed out of the house, and ran in had created, he rose from an untasted wild haste to her mother's residence, a breakfast, and rushed out of the house.

few streets distant. Her mother sat alone whenCaroline entered flushed and breathless. Alarmed at her appearance, she rose hastily upon her entrance, exclaiming,

"My dear girl, what is the matter ?”

Heavily and tardily the slow hours of that dreadful morning passed with the disconsolate wife, and eagerly as ever exhausted prodigal looked towards the home of his infamy, she looked for her Charles's return to dinner. At last, noon arrived- "There!" shrieked the phrenzied Carone, two and three o'clock-but the faith-oline, as she threw the fatal note on the less husband came not. Caroline was in table, and reeling a step or two, she faintan agony. An incipient fever sent its ed, and would have fallen to the ground heated flushes to her brow, and inspired but for the entrance of her father, who the streams of life with unwonted turbu- caught her in his arms.

lence and velocity. Weep, she could not A severe fever was the result of this now. Her heart was too full, and her violent mental excitement. From this, sorrows crowded too closely to permit however, she recovered after many days their escape through the lattices of her of unconscious illness. But she was no soul--those friendly channels of relief longer the bright,cheerful Caroline, whose that often drain off the excess of human gay laugh rang merrily in her father's sorrow in floods of scalding tears. halls; pale, emaciated, and spiritless, she

At last, a boy rapped at the door, and seemed only as the immaterial shade of brought a note addressed to Mrs. Rodg- her former self. Her heart was broken, With trembling haste she broke the and she rapidly sunk towards the place seal, and read or rather glanced over its where the weary repose undisturbed but thrilling contents. It read thus: by the greedy worm.

ers.

CAROLINE:

How kind were the attentions of her

I am a lost man. The scene of last mother in those days of grief. Every art night told you the accursed truth: I am that maternal tenderness could invent, a drunkard! Yes, all is over. My old was exerted to restore her to cheerfulappetite is revived by a temptation of yes-ness. Every want was anticipated with terday. Yielding to entreaty, I tasted a zeal such as nothing but a mother's afone glass. That aroused the slumbering fection could keep alive. An angel could fiend within. It clamored for another. I not have watched over her with more of drank it; another-you know the rest. tenderness and love, than did the mother cannot see you again. Shame burns on of Caroline.

my brow when I am sober, and my appeA mother's love! How precious!— fite rages like the fires of perdition. How, almost, divine! Its odors are sweetfeel I am its slave. My resolution is ta-er than the softest gales of Araby. Its ken: I see you no more. Ere you read worth is greater than all the pearls that this, I shall be far from you. It is best; dazzle the eyes of imperial courts or

shine unseen beneath the ocean wave.-W. as soon as the excitement of dismisIts endurance is beyond the strength of sing the intruders and disposing of her ancient knight. Its power is stronger unhappy son-in-law had subsided. than the combined attractions of wealth No one could tell. She had been seen and beauty. How its memory entwines to leave the parlor by one of the servants. around the wanderer's heart! How warm- Her mother, pained and anxious, sought ly it greets the guilty prodigal upon his the chamber of her child. Cautiously late return to a forsaken home, and what and silently she approached the door, and an irresistible spell it throws round the gently knocked for admission. Hearing path of the wayward child, from the cra- no reply, she entered, and oh! what a dle to the grave. True as the needle to sight for a mother's eye was there. the attracting pole, the heart turns thither Caroline lay weltering in her blood in its moment of peril, and even in man-on the floor! She had broken a blood hood's prime, the mind, comfortless and vessel! The sudden sight of her hus wearied, sings

"Mother! oh, sing me to rest,
As in my bright days departed:
Sing to thy child, the sick-hearted,
Songs for a spirit oppressed.

Lay this tired head on thy breast!
Flowers from the night-dew are closing,
Pilgrims and mourners reposing-
Mother, oh! sing me to rest!

Take back thy bird to its nest!
Weary is young life when blighted,
Heavy this love unrequited-
Mother, oh! sing me to rest!"

band was more than her feeble nature could endure. The strugglings of her wounded soul were greater than her debilitated body could resist, and giving way, the pent up spirit plumed its wings and soared to the land where "The wicked cease to trouble, and the weary are at rest."

As the passer by crossed the grave-yard of the village of for a few years after this event, he used to be stopped by

Several months had passed since the a tall, thin being with a vacant stare and departure of Charles. No communication strange gesture, who beckoned him to had been received from him since the step aside. Moved by sympathy, he folnote already mentioned, though report, lowed; a few steps, and his guide paused, ever busy in the spread of evil tidings, pointed to a grave-stone, and uttered an whispered of his degradation in other appalling laugh. On that grave-stone was inscribed the name of places.

One fine morning, Caroline stood at the window in melancholy mood, gazing

CAROLINE ROGERS.

The idiot guide was Charles. On befar into vacancy, when an approaching coming sober, after his wife's death, her crowd arrested her attention. Looking parents informed him of the fact and manup she perceived it to be a gathering ner of her death. The shock which this round three or four men, who bore a body information gave his guilty and enfeebled in their arms. Strange misgivings came mind was too powerful for its endurance. over her as the crowd stopped at her fa- He grew melancholy, sickened, sunk to ther's door. She ran to the passage, and the last point of life, and recovered--a one glance told her the fatal truth. It poor, senseless idiot. was Charles Rogers, but oh! how alter

There is "ower" much truth in this tale
Names and places have been

ed! Dirty, ragged, and in a state of of sorrow.

beastly intoxication. She waited not for altered, and circumstances varied in some slight degree, but the main features of the story have their foundation in truth;

a second glance, but starting back has tened to her chamber.

"Where is Caroline?" inquired Mrs. and it is hoped that the ardently attached

maiden who reads it, will learn not to him to other worlds, reveal floods of light, permit her affections to blind her judg-of life and of knowledge; he would cease to glory in his nothingness, to acment, or her reason to slight the warnings knowledge himself the "dark being of of faithful and tried friends, for disap- chance." pointed love is better than blighted con

nubial hope.

HOPE. I am the child of the morning. I attend the bright spirits of the fairy world, and gaze with the eye of the eagle upon the burning sun as it careers on high. I am not the offspring of poetry: although I often flit across the poet's bright world.

From the London Literary Gazette.

UNRECORDED GRAVES.

The tombs of princes they are found
Amidst cathedral halls,
With gold and marble glittering round
The high and trophied walls;
And crown, and sceptre, imaged fair,
Proclaiming proudly who lies there.

I drink of the streams They of the red right hand, whose fame that flow from the regions of romance, Hath filled the wondering world, and refresh myself among mines of spark-They too, sepulchral honors claim, ling rubies that are scattered along my And sleep with banners furledpath. Years are to me nothing, for I am A glorious and triumphant band, not the servant of time. Go ask the mar-Among the great ones of the land. tyr at the stake what will cheer him

when the faggot blazes at his feet? He But where are they the nameless dead, will answer, HOPE! Ask the plague- Who since the birth of time, striken wretch, whose very touch is con- Their life blood generously have shed In Freedom's cause sublime? tamination, and the air he breathes is poison, what sustains him in his agony? Ay, where are they?—no trophy waves Above their unrecorded graves. He will answer, Hope!

on.

And where your martyrs, radiant truth!
Who on the flaming pyre,

Without me, fame would Jure but few to her blazing temple, for 1 cheer them When they are weary, I point them onward; when they slumber, I awake In hoary age, and blooming youth, Have stood baptized with fire? them; and when mists surround them, Their death songs have gone up to heaven, and they know not where to tread, I clear Where are their sacred ashes driven? them away-I open the path before them,

smooth its ruggedness, lure them onward Ask we the winds? -the rushing blast with my "syren song" through delightful Hath borne them far and wide; meadows, through groves, and by refresh- Some in the forest's depths are cast, ing waters.

Some on the green hill side.
Oh! if meat fruits might crown such seed,.
They were a harvest rich indeed!

Your tombs, ye wanderers, who repose
'Neath Afric's burning sky,
Rejoicing e'en in life's dear close
For science' sake to die;

I have seen the being bereft of me, hold the dagger in his hand, while his raised arm and bared bosom told his determination. I have then returned-I have whispered in his ear-the dagger has fallen at his feet-the glow of health revisited his cheek-he has embraced his beloved, and shed tears of joy around the Say-who to grace your exiled dust, home I have thus given him. Think you Hath reared funereal urn or bust? that the incarcerated in the dungeon

broods over nothing but his wrongs? Ye sleep amid the deserts calm— that he dreams of nothing but revenge?

E'en where you gasping fell,

gazed upon a field of death

No, no; I hold my magic glass before Beneath the obeliskal palm, Or nigh the brackish well; his vision, and the prison walls expandAnd but the camel's echoing tread flowers bloom in his path-music is in Furrows the light sand o'er your bed. his ear-and those he loved he again embraces. These are alone for the inno-I cent. I strenghten virtue-I add new horrors to vice-I forsake the wretched culprit; he dies not like a man. My hab- Above, the golden sun; itation is not in the dark soul of the infi-Whilst one proud chieftain bore away del, for I would lead him to virtue, point The laurels of that blood red day.

Where kingdoms had been won ; What saw I? The green sod beneath