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“Perfidious wretch !" groaned the duke.

crimes. And when, after tedious and weary months of “Waste not time in reproaches—there is no safety hope and disappointment, at the court of Maximilian, but in instant flight! The people welcome the enemy- fortune seemed once more to smile on him—when by use we must begone through the darkness, and escape by of the treasures he had preserved, he had succeeded in the private postern. Tarry not for garniture, or leave- levying an army of Burgundian and Swiss mercenataking-away!”

ries, and had nearly recovered his Duchy-recalled by Sforza left the palace hastily under the guidance of the voice of the fickle people--when he was once more his brother; they joined in a place of concealment a about to taste the cup of prosperity, it was unexpect. small body of infantry and men at arms, and accompa- edly dashed from his lips. The Swiss bands in his ser. nied by the only true servants in all his court, the Car-vice, finding his treasures exhausted, mutinied, and sold dinal de Este and Sanseverino, the fallen sovereign set his person into the hands of the French-abandoning out on his midnight flight. As he threaded with his him in spite of promises, tears and prayers, on the very companions the narrow streets of Milan, he heard the eve of success ! Disguised in the habit of a Swiss priwarlike music and the exulting shouts of the victorious vate sentinel, as the last chance for escape, he passed French, who had thus won the capital without strife; through the French army in military order with the rest. but those sounds thrilled him not with anguish and Here a fearful retribution overtook him ;-as he passed mortification, as did the insane and riotous delight of the the last battalion, his bosom beating high with hope, Milanese populace, receiving their conquerors with tu- and apparently unknown to all-his steps were multuous acclamations. Breathing a malediction on rested by a vision of terror, scarce less appalling than the heartless rabble, the duke pursued his way till with those conscience often summoned to his nightly couch ; out the walls of a metropolis, where his reign was at an for the voice of Malvezzi, sounding in his ears like that end; when his party, perceiving a group of French sol- of the accusing demon, startled him from his fancied diers in the vicinity, approached and prepared to give security. them battle. Their leader, however, prevented any "Ha--mine ancient patron! is it thus we meet ?” movement of hostility-and riding up to Ludovico, sa From Germany the physician had returned to his luted him with ostentatious courtesy.

own country, to find patronage among the conquering “Traitor !” cried the duke, who recognized in the French. His recognition of his master was fatal to the faint light the faithless Count Gajazzo~"darest thou unfortunate duke, thus filling the measure of punishaddress thine injured master ?

Ludovico was seized and conducted to the “Nay-good your highness," returned the count, French King at Lyons; an object of wonder and pity “since it is your princely pleasure to leave your hapless to the spectators, who read in his fate a humiliating subjects, it were but just they should have liberty to lesson on human grandeur. Refused admission to the transfer their allegiance to the successor of your high-presence of Louis, the remaining years of his miserable ness. A noble one have you chosen in the royal Louis; life were passed in a foreign prison; a narrow dwelling I commend your selection—and trust me, will do my for the man whose thoughts and ambition all Italy was best to honor the choice. Fair sirs-good even !" and scarce sufficient to circumscribe! bowing till his plume touched his horse's neck, the count rode back to his troop.

Before Sforza could give vent to the boiling rage the cruel insolence of his revolted servant roused in his breast, he was hurried on by his companions, who

MISFORTUNE, would risk no skirmishes in their pressing peril. They reached Como, eighteen miles distant, before daybreak-

BY JOHN CARROLL BRENT, whence they were rowed as far as Bellagio. The There is nothing we gain without toil and trouble, beauty of the lake, illuminated by the beams of the

Possession is sadden'd by pain, rising sun, and shadowed by the steep mountains that And thousands are dup'd with the gleam of a bubble, embosomed it, sleeping in its calm loveliness-the deep

Which bursts to entice them again. rich green of the foliage, and the golden glory of the 'Tis proven by Time and Experience's test, morning--the lively appearance of the numerous small That he who's the same in misfortune and mirth, fishing boats shooting here and there over the bright

Is only the blest waters-formed a scene that contrasted painfully with

Of the children of earth. the mood of the fugitives.

The duke proceeded to Bornio, his way lying through When the world shall grow cold, and the touches of all the towns where, but a short time before, in the height of his prosperity and glory, he had entertained Shall wither the cords of the mind, Maximilian so magnificently, who at that time, had And the fancy evokes all the ills of the morrow more the appearance of an officer in the Venetian ser: To its own real interests blind,-vice, than of a king of the Romans. Now, crownless | There is yet in our power a subject to cheer, and landless, Ludovico re-entered the cities that had which pours the sweet balm o'er the wounds of the witnessed his triumphs, pursued by a victorious enemy,

heart, and by the troops of the traitor Gajazzo, who hung on

Which dries up the tear his footsteps till he reached the borders of the Empe

When 'tis ready to start. ror's dominions.

Thus was the downfall of the artful and ambitious In the storm's fearful hour when the mountainous billow prince, so rapid and complete, prepared by his own Is dashing in wildness along,

sorrow

When the north wind has risen in might from his pillow, We are then left to our own meagre resources,” And peals forth his terrible song

said Julia;

“Adams' promised aid will never be realThe sailor may see with his intellect's eye

ized.” The Being who lash'd the deep sea into foam,

“What aid ?" asked Henry, hesitatingly--for he saw And calmly rely

in the countenance of Julia a look of disappointment. On his mercies to come.

“ You know it was not for love that I married you,

Henry. You have not forgotten that James Adams Then shame on the man who when pain is in power, influenced me to accept your hand. He promised, Shall yield to the ills of lo-day

when he should be possessed of his uncle's immense Tomorrow may bring back the sun to the bower

estate, to furnish me with the means of living in affluWhich now droops because he's away!

ence, notwithstanding your poverty. That alone overAmid the wild storm which a moment unchained

came my objections to be your wife,” said Julia peeSweeps far o'er the breast of the perilous wave,

vishly. The plank when attain'd

Henry was struck with astonishment. It is true, he May snatch from the grave !

had not always lived on the happiest terms with his wife-having before frequently discovered in her signs of dissatisfaction. Attributing this misfortune, how

ever, more to poverty than the want of affection, which THE PERILS OF PASSION. he supposed was only overclouded in consequence of

his unsuccessful endeavors to acquire an easy compeBY HORATIO KING.

tency, he suffered it in silence. But, to be thus saluted "Your sorrows are self-bought, and you may reap

by a wife he sincerely loved, and at such a time too, The iron harvest that your hand has sown.”

was calculated to produce in his mind most disagreeable

reflections; it was as the funeral knell of his earthly “We have strange news to-night, Julia,” said Henry happiness. What-thought he-has it come to this! Lee, one evening, addressing his wife.

In two short years, have I thus been brought to expeHenry had just returned from the village ; and his rience what, but yesterday, I confidently believed could countenance betokened that something unusual had oc never be my lot to suffer ! curred.

“ Julia,” said he sternly, “I am astonished! What “ What—what news, Henry ?" inquired Julia, with means this sudden outbreak against your husband ? some surprise.

Have I deserved this treatment from you? Do you thus “The death of our friend Adams."

requite my kindness and love ?" “Adams! is James Adams dead ? I saw him in ap Poverty! poverty! poverty !" responded Julia, with parent good health this morning; what can have caused a contemptuous look; “we are doomed to live in pohis death so suddenly?—a fit-a fall—or a duel, per- verty. Had you the spirit of a man, there would be haps.”

some reason to hope that the time might come, when “No, neither," replied Henry; "he put an end to we should not be pointed at as the poorest family in the his own existence immediately after dinner. His body neighborhood.” was found suspended in the chamber of his store at four “Julia,” said the husband, “I have heard enough. o'clock."

You have inflicted a wound on my feelings that I fear “Poor man! yesterday his goods were attached; is never will be healed. This moment would I give not his failure in business the supposed cause of this worlds, could the scenes of this day prove to be but a dreadful act ?"

dream! I can bear the buffetings and the frowns of a “Yes; he left a note, in which he said that he had cold and selfish world without; but domestic bickerings lost all, and preferred death rather than a life of poverty and quarrels are too much for me. How often have and disgrace."

you heard me declare, that I never would permit this “But the fortune promised him by his uncle at Hart- destroying spirit to enter the circle of my domestic life. ford, would have made him independent. Was he not Alas! it even now threatens to drive me mad !-me--a sure of that large estate, at the demise of Mr. Har- father, too! Behold that innocent one-she, who has wood ?"

scarcely reached the age of one year-dependent upon “ He was. But he was this morning informed of the us for protection—for life! And shall we suffer ourdeath of his uncle. With this intelligence, came also selves to be torn asunder, and disgraced forever, by our the report that the property had all been willed to his own folly—nay, crimes ! Julia, it cannot be. Talk of uncle's attorney and particular friend, Mr. Lawson. It poverty! But for me, long since would you have been was too much-he gave way to the feelings of despair, a beggar in the streets.” and committed the fatal deed, without once reflecting “Say what you will, Henry, you are the cause of all that the sun of prosperity might again shine upon him. my unhappiness," continued Julia, covering her face; Had he waited even until now, he would never have “and were I free from you, with my own hands would been guilty of the awful crime of self-murder; for a I obtain the means of securing to myself the pleasures letter from his agent in Hartford, received this evening, of society. Enough have I seen of your incapacity, contradicts the unfavorable report of this morning, and and of your want of interest in all that renders life states that Mr. Harwood is recovering from a severe agreeable. I will bear it no longer. Would to Heaattack of the fever, which had threatened to prove ven, that the scenes, not only of to-day, but of the last fatal. His uncle had willed him the sum of two hun-two years of my life, were a dream! Widowhood dred thousand dollars."

were preferable to my present condition !"

ment.

Julia stopped suddenly-for on casting around, she residence in Hartford, and consider herself at home in perceived herself no longer in the hearing of her hus- his family during the few remaining years of his life. band. He had taken his hat and overcoat, and left the Julia consented—though not without some hesitancy, house precipitately, with a determination never to enter and a secret apprehension that all would not prove its walls again.

right. The night was an unhappy one to Julia ; for it re They reached Hartford just at sunset. The evening quired but little reflection to convince her that her con was enchantingly delightful; and, in spite of all the duct was most unbecoming and cruel toward her hus- causes of her unhappiness, Julia felt invigorated from band—though it afforded him no sufficient apology for the ride, and a secret joy stole through her heart at hastily abandoning her, as he did. She knew also, that witnessing with how much pleasure her daughter rehis disposition would not allow him readily to grant lished this, to her, novel mode of exercise and amuseher forgiveness, even were it in her power to ask it.

On the following morning, a hat, supposed to be “This is my house,” said the old gentleman, as he Henry Lee's, was found near the margin of the river, reined his horse up to a magnificent mansion on in the town of —, in which he resided, at the dis- street, near the centre of the town. tance of about twenty miles from Hartford, (Conn.) The truth at once burst upon the mind of Julia. She Search was now immediately made for him; every part had seen the house before ; it had, in her happier days, of the river in the vicinity was closely examined, and been pointed out to her by her friend Adams, as his persons were despatched to the neighboring towns, in uncle's. She could not be mistaken ;-it was even so. the hope that possibly he might yet be among the She had time only to raise her heart in thanks to God living. This hope was cherished with the more confi- for His goodness, before she and her daughter were dence, from the fact that he had always appeared to welcomed into the house by Mr. Harwood and his not view the act of self-murder with great horror. Julia, less kind and benevolent wife. though suffering severely for her own ill-conduct, and With that night came more happiness to the bosom filled with fear, could not believe that he had committed of Mrs. Lee, than she had experienced for a long, long suicide. The conclusion, however, in the public mind time before. Hunger and want disturbed not her rewas, that Henry Lee was dead; and his death, accom- pose—and her pillow was no longer a pillow of straw. panied with the supposed circumstances attending it, But for the remembrance of the unpleasant scenes of was announced in the papers.

the past, she would have been happy indeed. But Time passed on. Julia, for several wecks, still en the past could not be blotted from her mind. Her tertained hopes that her husband would return to her. reflections, however, were those of a repenting heart; She felt, indeed, that she could not leave this world, and most devoutly and sincerely did she pray to be without first hearing, from his own lips, the word of pardoned for the faults, which had already brought pardon. But hope finally ceased to administer to her upon her so much wretchedness. She felt a secret asany relief; and she was compelled not only to look surance that she was forgiven. upon herself as a widow, but almost as the murderess She was awoke in the morning by the voice of her of her husband! What remorse--what sorrow did daughter, who, with joyous countenance, was eagerly she feel! She awoke from disturbed and frightful calling her attention to the ornaments of the room, and slumbers in the morning, only to realize the depth of the happy contrast between their present and former her grief, in sensible and sober reflection. She could condition. “Oh, how happy should we be, mother," now see what happiness was, from experiencing the said she, “if my dear father were here! Would he not extremes of misery. Bitterly did she repent that she come, mother, if he knew we lived in so pretty a place ? had reproached her husband for his poverty, when in I am sure he would. Can you not send for him, mocomparatively happy circumstances-for she saw be ther?" fore her a scene only of want a life of wretchedness. Mrs. Lee could not repress her tears. “Do you not

We pass over a few years in the life of this unhappy know, my daughter, that your father is dead? We can woman, without detailing the many instances of pain never see him again;" answered the mother. which she experienced. Her path was beset with trou. “But we will be happy now, mother. I am sure I bles and sorrow, and the messenger of death often would not weep--for you have wept enough. I will seemed about to deliver to her the last summons. work for you, and be a good girl, mother. This kind

old gentleman will take care of us.”

The little girl was correct in the belief that the old We turn to a more pleasant part of the picture.— gentleman would provide for them; for he proved a It was in the year 17—, when a gentleman, far ad- guardian to them, indeed. They all soon became vanced in years, rode up to the miserable dwelling of warmly attached to each other; and Mr. Harwood was Julia Lee in a costly and splendid carriage. On knock- every day strengthened in the opinion, that he had ing at the door, it was opened by a young Miss, appa-extended the aiding hand in the right direction. He rently about ten years of age, who invited him to walk immediately placed Mary at school, where she made in. He accepted the invitation, and at once made great progress. Mrs. Lee had not neglected the moral known the object of his visit. He had heard of the and intellectual improvement of her daughter; and the wretchedness of the poor woman and her daughter. superior advantages now secured to her for acquiring a He had come to afford them relief. His first request finished education, were highly appreciated by both. was, that the mother should allow him to take her in the course of a few years, during which time nothing daughter, Mary, and call her his own child. His next unusual transpired in the history of the family, Mary was, that she should herself accompany them to his found herself esteemed one of the most accomplished

young ladies in her circle of acquaintance. She was proved my entire destruction, have I encountered. I particularly partial to the study of the French, and have sought rest in various undertakings, in which frequently expressed the wish that she might become a others seemed to experience it; but sought in vain. I perfect scholar in that language. Mr. Harwood nar- despair of ever realizing it, until the past shall be irrerowly watched the disposition and inclination of his vocably buried in oblivion." adopted daughter. He saw with peculiar pleasure her “It cannot be that your character is stained by crime, love of knowledge, and witnessed her extreme anxiety and that you are Aeeing from the hand of justice !” exto become mistress of her favorite study. He soon claimed Mary, with surprise. “If so, we have no prodetermined to place her in a situation, where her wishes tection for you here. Explain yourself,” said she, “or could not fail to be gratified. He had a brother-in-law, we shall be obliged to call the police.” named Jeffreys, who resided in France,-having married "I am guilty of a great offence,” replied the poor a French lady, and adopted that country as his perma- beggar; “but I flee from no human hand of justice. nent residence. In choosing France for his home, he The upbraidings of my conscience alone, are what chose its language also, and soon nearly ceased to speak most disturb me, and what I would most wish to be his own. Mr. Harwood at once made arrangements relieved of. Would that it were in my power to heal to place Mary under his protection. She had now the wound that I, a long time ago, inflicted in the heart reached the age of seventeen, when he communicated of her whom I solemnly swore to protect, defend, and to her the object he had in view. She received the support, before all others! But the deep, dark gulf of proposition with much joy. Though warmly attached death forever separates us! Poor girl! she sunk in to home, she nevertheless entertained the idea that it sorrow to the grave, with no one to soothe the aching would be a very pleasant thing to visit France, aside heart-hastened to her end, it may be, by the very from the advantages afforded of perfecting herself in want of the necessaries of life to sustain her! And the French language.

her sweet infant too must have soon followed her!-a Arrangements being completed, Mary took her de. daughter, who would have been our comfort and solace parture for Paris. On the voyage, which was a long through life! Oh the danger-the fatal results of pasand tedious one, she more than once wished herself sion! She reproached me for my poverty--she earsafely in the arms of her mother. Her courage, how- nestly affirmed that she would be happier without me! ever, did not entirely forsake her; and she finally With wounded pride, jealous, and filled with passion, reached the end of her journey without experiencing I hastily abandoned her. I purposely refused myself any serious difficulties. She was kindly received by time for reflection, before embarking for a distant land, Mr. Jeffreys, who had been apprised of her intended where I well knew I should be beyond the knowledge visit.

of all who should seek me! Nay, I took especial She now pursued her studies under the direction of pains to create the impression that I had put an end to one of the most popular teachers in Paris--devoting my existence. But a few months after having deterher attention more particularly to the acquisition of mined to return to her—I heard incidentally that she the language of the country. She was also much had died under that awful impression! The circumaided in her pursuit, by the son of Mr. Jeffreys, whose stances were related in a journal which fell into my qualifications enabled him to be of great service to her. hands at the time ; and though names were withheld, But a few months had passed, before she found herself I was convinced I could not be mistaken. I then dared prepared to speak the language quite fluently; and the not return; and sought to banish the recollection of the pleasure she derived from conversing with young Jef- subject, by constantly searching for new objects to infreys, and others with whom she became acquainted, terest and absorb my attention. I have travelled the tended greatly to relieve her mind from the depression world over; but life itself has been constantly a burshe frequently experienced, in reflecting on the dis- den to me. I have lost all hope of ever bettering my tance which separated her from her home and dearest condition. I am indeed far more miserable than even friends.

my appearance indicates. No, lady, I fee from the About two years had elapsed since her arrival in pursuit of no living being; for no punishment can be France, when Mary received a letter from her mother, more severe than that I have already suffered." earnestly desiring her to return home. She was sitting “But where,” eagerly inquired Mary, “is your naai the open window of the parlor, perusing this letter, tive place ?". when a man, miserably clad, and with dejected coun “I am an American,” he replied ; "and proud am I tenance, came toward her-and, addressing her in of my country-though I expect never to return to broken French, humbly begged a morsel of bread to it." save himself from starvation. Her heart was open to “From what part of America are you?" she conthe petition, and his request was at once granted. Ob-tinued—more and more interested in his history. serving him to be an Englishman, and anxious to learn “The town of, in the state of Connecticut. what misfortune could have reduced him to so miser. My father was a poor man; and my wife, who before able a condition, she addressed him in her own tongue, our marriage, was usually designated as the 'accomand invited him into the house.

plished Julia,' died before she attained the age of ma“ Sir," said she, “ you are a stranger in these parts, turity.” I presume ; what calamity can have brought you to so “ And your name iswretched a condition ?"

“Henry Lee.” “I am what the world may well call a son of misfor “My father! my father !” she exclaimed, “behold tune,” he replied ; " many a dark cloud has hovered your own daughter before you! I am not deceived—it over my path, and many a storm, which has nearly is my father !"

She was on the point of throwing herself into his

ERNEST MALTRAVERS: arms, when he arose to meet her, anxiously inquiring :

By the Author of “ Pelham," "Eugene Aram," "Rienzi,” &c. “Mary, my child! Can it be possible that you live &c. In two volumes. New York. Harper & Brothers. 1837. to witness the sorrow and misery of your wicked father! Oh, I discover in you now the image of your

The inexhaustible fountain of Mr. Bulwer's own poor mother! Tell me--how came you here? What genius continues to pour out upon the literary breeze of fortune hath borne you onward to so favor- world its beautiful effusions. Its waters seem as able a condition? Oh, my wife! would to heaven 1 pure and limpid as the mountain stream, and could call thee to life again!” he exclaimed, weeping sweet as the honey of Hymettus. But alas ! those and sobbing most bitterly.

who drink of them too deeply, I fear will find them “Stay, father !--she lives ! she lives!” cried Mary. poison to the soul ! “My own dear mother still lives to bless you !"

Among the writers of the present day, there are “What! Julia—my wife ? still lives! Gracious hea- none who have a stronger hold upon the public ven! may I dare to meet her! Oh lead me-yes-lead taste than Edward Lytton Bulwer. Even on this me before her. I deserve no favor from her; but she side of the Atlantic, his productions are eagerly knows I was not alone to blame—and she will forgive

sought after by every class of readers. He has me-yes, she will forgive me !"

“Oh, I bless the fortune that has brought us to something to fascinate all; love-sick scenes for gether!” said Mary. “Compose yourself, my father--love-sick girls and amorous boys; fashionable life and you shall soon know all. Mother still resides in for modish gentlemen, who look to an English Connecticut. We were wretchedly poor and needy; novel as “a glass wherein to dress themselves ;” but a good old gentlemen, by the name of Harwood, heroic achievements for gallant and romantic came one day and took us to his home in Hartford, youth; profound reflection for the philosophic mind, where she is invited to remain so long as he lives. It is and intimate knowledge of human life for the man by his kindness and generosity also that I am here of the world. Withal, the incidents of his tales pursuing my studies. I was preparing to return, have often the deepest interest, though the plot is having, the moment you accosted me, received a letter not always without objection ; and they are confrom my mother, desiring me to embark for home im

veyed in a style, which though by no means faultmediately."

less, is often brilliant and always vigorous and “ The poor man was nearly overcome at so unex

striking. pected a meeting-—with intelligence at once so gratifying, and the prospect of being again united to the bosom

It is a sad thing that such uncommon powers companion of his early days.

should be so much misapplied. There is no man No time was now lost. The next packet that sailed, more capable tban Mr. Bulwer of bringing effitook the father and daughter to the shores of their own cient aid to the cause of virtue ; none who could native country and home. And here let me remark, more powerfully inculcate a sublime morality; that on leaving, Mary failed not to give young Jeffreys none who could more successfully penetrate the a most pressing invitation to visit America at as early recesses of the heart, and expose its wicked a day as his engagements would permit.

workings, and its deceitful imaginings; none who I need not describe the meeting of the long separated could more beautifully portray the loveliness of husband and wife. Suffice to say, it was affecting in virtue, or make vice more ugly. What an ally the extreme. Each felt to have been most in the

to a school of Ethics! Even our instructors in wrong-each begged most earnestly to be forgiven by the other. The day was one of mutual congratulation the pulpit would scarcely decline the aid of such and joy; and that night were their hearts unitedly

an auxiliary. While the professors of moral phiraised to God in humble and sincere prayer for the par- losophy, instead of imbuing the mind with practidon of all their misdeeds—for His protection against cal wisdom, lose themselves in the mazes of metathe unhappy consequences of passion--and for His physics, and the preacher of the gospel, intent constant guidance and blessing.

only on its mysteries, neglects the inculcation of In less than one year from that time, Mr. Harwood those moral precepts which it was mainly deand his aged companion were both called to their resigned to sustain and enforce, the talented novelist ward in Heaven; and Mary Lee, his adopted and only " would come to the rescue.” Holding the mirror child, came into possession of his immense estate, sub

up to nature, he would shew to vice its deformity, ject only to an annuity to her parents, sufficient to en- and win over converts to virtue by her attractive sure them a comfortable and affluent support while living.

graces. He would pursue the wicked through all

their deceitful windings, trace them through every Mary's invitation to young Jeffreys was accepted. His visit was one of unusual interest to him, and not doubling, and penetrate and expose their base and

He would make meanness less so to her, whose hand he came to solicit. They ignoble motives. were united: and blessings ceased not to attend them. blush_abase the selfish-unmask the hypocrite, They avoided THE PERILS OF Passion, by attending to and detect the cheat. He would appal the gamthe voice of wisdom,“ whose ways,” in the beautiful bler, disgust the gross voluptuary with himself, fanguage of Scripture," are ways of pleasantness, and and wither the seducer with the sight of his unwhose paths are peace.”

happy victims. On the other hand, his genius

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