despair. Whence is your dull sorrow? the world is the same: There is still Hope's bright tide, still the pathway to Fame Still the beacon of Faith. Then why bendeth the heart? Why, amid all its joys, let Contentment depart? "Tis for you, in your path through its deserts, to find Your clear stream within, in a right-thinking mind? List to her! There is delight in the smile So radiant now, so long yearned for erewhile, Despair, And o'er its dark mantle cast Hope's garment fair! rest In slumber, awaiting the call to your breast? To cast o'er a far distant realm her bright sway; Yet leaves she with sorrow- -fain, fain would she mark The light she could kindle in each bosom dark : Let it melt the iced current of sympathy there, Let it aid you, by binding to yours the cold heart, 'Tis thus to view calmly Time's step speed along, TO LUCY. My ring shall be an emblem, love, My faith shall ever, like it, love, As firm as endless be: That ringlet of dark hair, my love, That ringlet and that ring, my love, Trusting in each other's truth, love, So say thou wilt be mine, love, E'en as that ring and hair, my love, So firmly now entwine, My heart so clings to thee, my love, Go not! oh! leave me not alone; Look on me! tranquil thoughts arise: Speak to me! let me hear the words The image of his God appear'd. Oh! let me on thy true heart rest- Go not! ah, go not! Dark'ning clouds SENSE AND INSENSIBILITY. BY F. E. F. "How can you say so, Allan," replied Miss Middleton, "when you know that the women you have devoted yourself to in society have always been those who were distinguished for their intelligence. There were Miss Langley and Mrs. Murray, and I don't know how many, that I really have thought from time to time that you were going to address, you were so attentive to them." "But I did not, Fanny. It is one thing to talk to a woman, and another to marry her. And that is a distinction that you ladies do not always remember," replied Mr. Middleton. "Your thoughts always jump so instinctively to matrimony, that you seem to think if a man admires a woman he must needs be thinking of marrying her; and you never made a greater mistake in your lives. It is really surprising to see how little the cleverest even of you understand us." "Perhaps it might be as you say," replied her brother; "but, unfortunately, your clever woman always wants to be appreciated' herself, and is much more occupied with her own brilliant sayings than with those of the man she is talking to.' "You are speaking of admiration and I of appreciation," replied the young lady, with a smile. "They mean the same thing, in the sense you were using them," replied Mr. Middleton; "and that I have the right of the argument experience may show you. Look around you, and see whom the distinguished men you know have married; not one of them, I'll answer for it, a woman of more than ordinary intelligence." "That is true," replied Miss Middleton, laughing. "They seem to me to marry generally the woman who is nearest to them. Propinquity has more to do with it-nine cases out of tenthan taste. But, notwithstanding such high authorities, I cannot think a man shows his sense in making such a choice, nor can I think that a sensible woman is more apt to be exigeante than a fool, more especially when there is beauty in the case; and to that I never heard the wisest of you object." "No," replied Allan, "for nature settles that point. A young beauty may be giddy and vain, but the reign being short, she soon turns her thoughts and feelings into other channels. But not so with your bel esprit. Time itself cannot sober her; for a really clever and cultivated woman talks better at thirty or forty than she does at twenty-consequently, is just as eager for admiration as a girl." 'So," replied his sister, laughing, "you fall in love with beauty because it can't last. Come, come, Allan, don't talk nonsense any longer, but confess the truth. You are in love with Laura Crawford, and really think of marrying her?" "I do," replied Mr. Middleton; "and although I do not pretend to deny that I admire her beauty, yet it is not that which would ever have seriously attracted me." "And may I then ask what the peculiar charm is?" inquired Miss Middleton. "Yes," replied her brother; "it is her sweet temper and affectionate nature-qualities that have an attraction for us that you women are little aware of. A loving, gentle temper, is worth all the talent in the world." "And if to that you can add a pretty face," said Miss Middleton, gaily, "I suppose you have woman in her perfection." 66 Precisely," returned her brother; "and such, I trust, you will find your future sister-inlaw." Miss Middleton said no more-not that she was satisfied with her brother's choice, but because she saw it was too late to oppose it. She was a clever woman herself, and had come of a clever race, and was not inclined to underrate the gifts bestowed upon her name; and although she knew that her brother was of a hasty and decided temper, yet she could not but think that a woman of sense, in appreciating his intellect and valuing his acquirements, would have been quite as well inclined to bear with his inequalities of disposition as one who could only feel the latter without understanding the former. The thing, however, was done-the engagement proclaimed, and Middleton now talked fully and freely to his sister of his bride elect, and dwelt much upon the simplicity and naïveté, and "that transparency of character," which, as he said, were her chief charms. Miss Middleton sometimes smiled and sometimes sighed, as she listened; for the simplicity which so captivated him struck her as very closely resembling folly, and she suspected that so, too, it would have struck him had it not been allied to the most transparent skin, the bluest eyes, and prettiest little rose-bud of a mouth ever seen; and she sometimes thought Allan must rouse from his infatuation, and see the truth as she saw it. Now, in this she was mistaken-not that her brother was inclined to overrate Laura's understanding, but she suited him the better, perhaps, for the very deficiency that shocked his sister. He had been accustomed to cleverness all his life. His mother was clever, and so were his sisters, and, therefore, there were a novelty and freshness in the naïveté, or folly, whichever it was, of Laura, that amused him; and, moreover, the truth must be told, he had some of the defects often | accompanying superiority of intellect—he was arrogant, and fond of having his own way. Now, he had a feeling that if he married a sensible woman, he must treat her as such; but he felt that he could treat Laura just as he pleased. She was "simple and childlike"-in short, just the creature he thought "to love, honour, and obey him." When it was announced that Allan Middleton was engaged to Laura Crawford, it excited some surprise and many comments in the gay circle of which they were members. Some wondered that so clever a man as Middleton should marry such a little simpleton as Laura; and others thought her youth and beauty quite an offset to his talents; and all, at any rate, agreed that it was a brilliant match for her. To be sure, some spoke of his temper as not being of the pleasantest, and others said there was a disparity of age as well as intellects; but then he was rich, and she one of a large and not wealthy family, and that settled the question of all inequalities as decidedly in her favour. The engagement that satisfied society was welcomed with delight by the Crawfords. The connection gratified their pride as much as it surpassed their expectations. Mrs. Crawford's affection for Laura seemed to know no bounds, and even her father treated her with unusual respect; and, indeed, the importance she suddenly acquired with the whole family was truly amusing. From being "only Laura," she rose at once into being the principal person in the domestic circle. CHAP. II. tion abroad and consequence at home of which she had hitherto never dreamed. The sudden transition from "nobody" into "somebody" has turned wiser heads than hers, not to speak of the wedding paraphernalia, which of itself would have been enough at any time to set her wild with joy; and what with flattery and finery, a happier or more radiant creature than the youthful bride can scarcely be imagined. Middleton, amused by the childish raptures and gratified by the perfect happiness of his little wife, and, perhaps, not less flattered than herself at the sensation she produced abroad, which, in fact, was but a reflection of his own consequence, was scarcely less pleased with his "experiment" than Laura, and thus the honeymoon glided away to the perfect satisfaction of them both. The wedding festivities having ceased and spring coming on, the gay season was over, and Laura once more thrown back upon the quiet of domestic life. "You must rejoice that the parties are over, Mrs. Middleton," observed Mrs. Harris, a friend of Middleton's; "for I think you must be quite worn out with gaiety, and be glad of a respite of a little while." "No, indeed," answered Laura; "I never was so happy in my life as during the last three months. And it is so dull now-you can't think. Oh, the evenings are so long; it seems as if half-past ten never would come.' 66 Indeed," said her friend, smiling at the earnestness with which she spoke. "How do you occupy yourself? What do you generally do of an evening?" "Nothing," answered Laura. "Mr. Middleton reads, and sometimes I go to sleep in the large chair-but I can't do that always; and then I play at solitaire-but as I never can get the cards right, I get so tired that you can't imagine how delighted I am to see the suppertray come in, for then Allan leaves his books, and we have a little chat, and after that it is time to go to bed." "Are you not fond of reading?" inquired Mrs. Harris. "No," answered Mrs. Middleton, with the utmost simplicity; "I hate reading; I had rather play at solitaire. I want Allan to teach me écarté, but he won't. I think he might― don't you?" she said, appealingly. "It is so dull to play alone." "Well, there is your music," continued Mrs. Harris; " you have not given that up, I hope?" "I sing now and then," she answered. But Mr. Middleton does not care for music," she added, complainingly; "and there is no pleasure in singing, you know, when nobody is listening." "Do you never sew?" continued Mrs. Harris, now quite interested and amused by the young wife's details. Laura had been hitherto but a pretty little nobody in society, and merely one of a large "I used to," she replied; "but now I have family at home; but now, as the young and nothing to sew. I got more of everything when lovely wife of the rich and influential Allan I married than I can ever wear out; and there Middleton, she stepped at once into a considera-is no use, you know, in making anything else. I wish I did want something," she added, mournfully, "for I like sewing." little he did gather, his uneasiness and irritation were not dispelled. "Do leave off that confounded knitting," he said, presently, somewhat sharply, "and let us have dinner." "You are well off," replied Mrs. Harris, laughing, "to be without a want;" but knowing at the same time that the want of occupation was the greatest of all wants, she added, goodnaturedly, "Suppose I teach you a new knitting stitch that I have just learned, and perhaps it may amuse you to knit a purse for your hus-miration. band?" "Oh, thank you," exclaimed Laura, with real animation; "I should like it of all things!" And needles and silk were quickly produced, and the ladies were soon deep in the mysteries of putting twos into ones, and ones into twos; and Laura's tones were as earnest and as eager as if she were really engaged in a matter of great importance. "Oh, thank you," she again repeated, as she continued her lesson; "this is charming! Now Allan may read aloud as much as he pleases.' "Is Mr. Middleton fond of reading loud?" inquired Mrs. Harris with a smile. "Yes, I believe he is," replied Laura, resuming her knitting; "that is, last night he proposed reading to me, and then he got quite angry because I yawned. But I could not help it; I was so tired. Hamlet is enough to make any body yawn-is it not? There, that is rightnow two, and then four again ;" and Hamlet and Mr. Middleton were both quickly forgotten in the purse. As Mrs. Harris left the house she could not but smile as she remembered the many conversations she had had with Middleton, with whom she had been intimate many years, on the subject of marriage and all his requirements in a wife, and to see what they had all ended in amused her at the moment excessively; and her mind fully occupied with the subject, the first person she came upon in turning the corner was Middleton himself. They both stopped, and she, conscious of the train of thought just passing through her brain, looked both amused and embarrassed as she said, with some little hesitation, "I have just been sitting an hour with your pretty little wife, Mr. Middleton. She has promised to come in and see me of an evening. I wish you would bring her soon." Middleton coloured, for he knew Mrs. Harris well, and a téte-à-tête between Laura and his quick-witted but not very merciful friend was not just the thing that he would have chosen; but he could only profess himself most anxious to secure his wife the society and friendship of Mrs. Harris, and promise to do his share towards promoting an intimacy so kindly invited by his old friend; and Middleton walked home under an unpleasant consciousness of he did not exactly know what. He found his wife just where Mrs. Harris had left her, knitting for dear life. He asked some questions relative to Mrs. Harris's visit, but Laura-never very clear or graphic in her details-was now quite too much absorbed in her work to give any very satisfactory account of what interested him so much; and from the "You seem hungry," she said, gaily, as she rang the bell. "There, is not that pretty?" she continued, as she held up her work for his ad "What do I know about such nonsense?" he replied, putting aside her hand rather rudely. "Ring again." "Why, Allan, what is the matter with you?" said Laura, looking up surprised. "How cross you are!" Middleton felt that he was, and had the grace to be ashamed of his temper; and, making an effort, he answered, "Don't you know that hungry men are always cross, love? Show me your purse after dinner, and then you will find that I can appreciate it. Come, tell me what you have been about all the morning." And before Laura had finished the history of her visitors and their gossip, dinner was announced, and the cloud dispelled. When they returned to the drawing-room, and coffee had been dismissed, Laura took out her needles, and settling herself at the table, said, " Suppose you read to me, Allan?" His countenance lighted up with surprise and pleasure, as he said, "Certainly, if you wish it. What shall I read ?" "Anything you like," she answered. "You may as well finish Hamlet." And the book being produced, a prettier domestic tableau could scarcely be conceived than that of the graceful young wife, her delicate fingers rapidly weaving her brilliant coloured silks, as with an earnest and interested countenance she apparently listened to her husband reading. "Pshaw!" said Laura, presently. "What is the matter?" inquired Middleton. "I have dropped a stitch. No matter-go on," she replied. He looked annoyed, but after a moment's pause, resumed his reading. Nothing occurring to interrupt him again, all went on harmoniously until, happening to call her attention to some point in the drama, to which Laura made no reply, he raised his eyes from his book, and repeated his observation. She continued, however, perfectly silent for a minute or two, and then, looking up, said, "What did you say?" "Why, what is the matter with you?" he asked, rather impatiently. "Did you not hear me at first?" Yes," she replied; "but I was counting-I don't know what you said." "Counting?" he exclaimed. "Yes," she continued; "I am obliged to count every third row of this knitting to make the pattern." "And why, in the name of common sense, did you ask me to read to you?" he inquired sharply. "You surely cannot count and listen at the same time." "I thought you liked to read," she answered,, neglected altogether doing what she should do calmly; "and I would just as lief." until the proper moment was past." "No, certainly," he answered, angrily; "I shall not read if you are not listening. I can have no pleasure in reading aloud to myself." "Well, don't, if you do not want to," she replied, quietly; "I am sure I do not care about it." Middleton dashed the book from him, as he muttered something that sounded like "fool" or "folly;" but what the words were Laura did not distinguish, and rising, he took a light, and walked off to the library. "Why, what is the matter with the man?" thought Mrs. Middleton, as she looked up amazed. "I am sure I have done nothing to vex him. If he is angry, I can't help it;" and she continued steadily working until supper was announced, when her husband once more joined her in the drawing-room. The cloud still hung upon his brow, and his tones were sharp and quick; but his wife received him with such a total oblivion of his vexation, that he was at a loss how to display his dissatisfaction. After some time, however, he began, with a voice of suppressed temper-"I wish, Laura, when I read to you of an evening "Now, pray, Allan, don't talk any more about it," interrupted Laura, playfully putting her little hand over his mouth. You shall not read that horrid Hamlet again, for somehow it always puts you in a passion;" and then she began with such genuine good temper to talk of other things, that Middleton, who was a man of sense, saw the futility of saying more. CHAP. III. Middleton, on the contrary, was punctuality itself, and punctual people are seldom patient. His parting words had scarcely died upon Laura's ear before they had passed from her mind, and she was busily engaged tending her birds and inspecting her plants. While she was still so occupied, the servant announced the carriage. "I did not order it until one," she replied. "Tell the coachman he is too early." "It has just struck one, ma'am," replied the man. "I had no "Is it possible!" she exclaimed. idea it was so late. Well, tell him to return in an hour;" and after dawdling a little longer over her flowers, she went up to dress. Always dilatory in her motions, the carriage was again at the door before she was ready. Half an hour more elapsed. She was going to pay a bridal visit, and that, with one or two errands, consumed the rest of the morning. She returned quite late and somewhat fatigued, and going to her dressing-room, put on a wrapper, and taking a novel, threw herself on a sofa to repose and refresh herself before she began her toilette for Mrs. Harris's. Being a little tired and a little amused, she "lay, taking her rest" very comfortably, quite forgetful of every thing but her book and the sofa, when, suddenly she heard her husband's step, and the next moment the door opened, and he entered the dressing-room. "Why, Laura," he exclaimed, "this is too bad! It is half-after-five now," taking out his watch. Half-after-five!" she repeated, starting from the sofa. "Oh, it can't be ! Impossible!" "Look," he replied, holding the watch sternly before her. 66 "Well," she answered, "go down stairs, and will be ready in ten minutes. It never takes me long to dress." I "Remember, Laura," said Mr. Middleton, a few days after the above-mentioned occurrence, "that we dine to-day at Mrs. Harris's, and pray be ready in time. I was mortified and ashamed the last time we dined there, to find we had Now this is a delusion all unpunctual people kept every body waiting full half-an-hour. labour under. They always imagine their expeThere is nothing so ill-bred as want of punc-dition makes up for their want of exactness, and tuality; and you, I am sorry to say, are never that they will be ready in ten minutes if you ready. If you would only begin half-an-hour will only be patient. earlier "Well, I will," interrupted Laura; "so don't scold." "I am not scolding," replied Middleton, somewhat sharply. "It sounds very Laura, gaily. like it, nevertheless," replied "I only beg," he answered, dryly, "that you will be ready to-day. The carriage will be at the door precisely at six." "Very well," said Laura; and her husband took his hat, and went off for the morning. Laura was one of those persons who seem to have no idea of time. There are those with whom it seems absolutely a constitutional defect, and Laura was one of them. She seldom began to dress until the carriage came to the door, always forgot her notes and orders until the last moment, and frequently Charging her to be quick, Middleton knew the only course was to leave her to her maid, and he descended to the drawing-room. At the expiration of ten minutes, he despatched a servant to Laura, desiring her to hurry, as the carriage would be at the door presently. Never prompt in her movements, and being now flurried with the messages that came from her husband every five minutes, Laura dressed as one dresses in a dream, forgetting where she put her things as she laid them down, and taking twice as long in her hurry as she would have done had Middleton had the sense to leave her alone. She had not yet put on her frock, when she heard her husband's voice in the hall, saying "Tell Mrs. Middleton to come down just as she is. The carriage has been waiting some time." Flurried and half-dressed-for she was still |