sight of his pale colorless features and gleaming | fact? Rather exult and glory in the triumph you eyes. "Good heavens! what has happened?" "Nothing new-nothing but what I have expected from the very beginning. The curse of your genius has fallen upon me at last-and I have come to bid you farewell forever." 66 Raymond!-oh God! it must be a dream!" murmured the poor girl. "Yes, it will seem so to you; and you will write upon it so touchingly that the world will thrill, and wonder at such deep pathos, such rare eloquence; and pity you for the strange destiny that linked your fate with mine. There will be abundance of themes for poetry in the past; more especially the burlesque, if you have any talent that way.' "He must be mad!" thought Catherine, shrinking from those glittering eyes. "It is a pity," continued her companion, more wildly," that you were not an eye-witness of the scene of to-day; the description would have been more graphic-more vivid! But nevertheless, there is no fear there will be wanting people to describe it to you to exult in your triumph-the triumph of your high intellect!-even though it should be founded on the ruin and disgrace of him whom in a few hours more you would have sworn, with false and lying lips, to love and honor. Pshaw! what! honor him whose name you have made a by-word and a scorn for evermore!" 66 Raymond!" exclaimed Catherine, "speak to me-speak plainly-what fearful mystery is this?" "No mystery-no secret now, but the common talk of the town-nay, by this time all D. is ringing with the strange news. But you need not turn so pale; for every sneer uttered against my name will be mingled with praises of the rare and versatile genius of her who, serpent-like, first deceived and then betrayed me! Oh Catherine! was there no other pathway to fame-to popularity -but over the ruins of a heart that loved and trusted you!" He sat down and covered his face with his hands; while the fearful truth burst slowly over the mind of his horror-stricken companion. It mattered not how this had got abroad-he was lost to her forever! as he had said, the curse of her genius had fallen upon them both A faintness, even unto death, crept over her whole frame; but she endeavored to arouse herself-they must not part thus in bitterness and anger. If he could only be brought to forgive her to say that he believed her innocent, then Heaven would give her strength to bear the test. And, kneeling down by his side, she tried to speak calmly-to still the wild beating of her throbbing temples-to collect her wandering thoughts. But no words came, only tears; burning, irrepressible tears, that saved her heart from breaking. "I believe," continued Berrington, in the same tone, "that this disclosure is somewhat premature and unexpected; that you had not thought it would have reached my ears so soon-perhaps not until after the wedding to-morrow. But I cannot be too thankful for my escape. And yet it seems, as you say, like a dream, to remember how you looked and spoke and smiled on that night, beguiling me to my doom!" "Heaven is my witness," said Catherine, in a broken voice," that no syllable of what passed then has ever been breathed by me to a single living soul." "Pshaw! why seek to deny a plain and palpable have achieved." Raymond; for I swear it by all I hold dear on earth! by my hope of heaven!--Not even to your mother." 66 'Did I, then, think you, take the trouble to proclaim my own disgrace? If only we two knew of the occurrences of that night, one must have revealed them." "But the paper," continued Catherine, clinging in her agony and despair to a straw, "the paper upon which I wrote, could it have been found, and my hand-writing recognized?" 66 'Impossible, since I burnt it to ashes before I retired to rest. "Are you sure-quite sure-every little bit?" Raymond turned away from her appealing glance with a fierce, impatient gesture. 66 "O, leave me not thus! Think for me-think for us both-how this could have come al-out. Indeed, indeed, I betrayed you not." Nay, it was but natural, after all, that you should boast of what you had done; should tell it in confidence to some dear familiar friend-to De Lyle, perhaps not intending, for your own sake, that it should get blazoned forth to the world, lest you might have to blush for me-f -for your husband.” 66 He arose up tottering and feeble. Raymond!" exclaimed the girl despairingly, "O, let us not part in anger-forgive me! pity me.' "Then you confess that it is as I have said?" "No, I deny it; and would with my latest breath. And you believe me! O say that you believe me! Look not on me thus-I feel that we must part, but let it be in kindness." "Now this is mockery!" said Berrington, struggling to free himself from her detaining grasp. 66 Raymond, I confess that I have been to blame; that it is all my own fault. I was too ambitious; but it was for you. I should never have written again: I had been warned-I promised that I would not; but it was for you-for you. O God! I am bitterly punished." Berrington felt his strength failing him, and the hand she held in hers trembled strangely; but it was from weakness of body, rather than any wavering of that stern and iron heart. Raymond!" exclaimed she, springing forward, and forgetting all but her love and care at sight of his feebleness, "you must not walk home." "What! you fear that the very boys in the street might hoot at me?" "No, only lest you should be taken ill." "Rather pray that I may die!" "Not you; may you be happier than I could ever have rendered you: but for me, I care not how soon it may please Heaven in its mercy to take me to itself." "These passionate complaints will sound marvellously well in poetry,' "said her companion mockingly; "and with a little care, may be turned to good account. What says your favorite author of such griefs? It was only last night we were reading it— "Into work the poet kneads them,— And he does not die till then!" Catherine lifted up her large eyes to his face, full of gentle pleading; but there was no reproach in them. Her words, could she have spoken, would have been loving still; but speech seemed denied her; and he passed away and left her thus. it is, indeed, which may justly arrest one's attention, and serve to prove that even exaggeration in the estimates of the growth and progress of this country, can hardly keep pace with reality. After deep distress and the development of consumption in Raymond, his mother steels herself to confess the truth; the lovers are reconciled on the Byronic hero's deathbed; and Kate survives, to exhibit the moral of resignation and single-bless-appropriation of the public treasure, to promote, edness, though an old lover is sighing for her. From Cist's Advertiser of Cincinnati. FEW persons, even among our own citizens, entertain adequate notions respecting the extent and magnitude of western business. If I were to assert that the exports of Cincinnati surpassed those of New York, I should startle even intelligent persons here, and incur ridicule elsewhere, if the assertion were left without its proper evidence. The proof is as easily made, however, as the statement. The exports of New York, in 1847, amounted to $52,879,274. This exceeded the exports of 1846 by sixteen millions, and the exports of 1846 exceeded those of any previous year. Another consideration is forcibly suggested by this comparison that Mr. Polk, and his school of politicalism, and Gen. Cass too, who promises that, if elected, he will continue the system of the present administration-while admitting that the constitution of the United States authorizes the |facilitate, and render more secure, our foreign cominerce, and consequently with that view to deepen harbors, construct breakwaters, erect lighthouses, public piers, &c., on the sea board-yet pertinaciously deny that the same objects can be constitutionally undertaken and accomplished for internal commerce-so that the Ohio, the Mississippi, and the lakes, which bear upon their bosom annual exports from Cincinnati alone, to the amount of fifty-five millions of dollars, may not be rendered less dangerous to navigation, at the cost of the common treasury! The mere statement of such a distinction is sufficient, at all times, to prove its absurdity—but when this absurdity is put in still bolder relief by such a fact, as in the above comparison between the trade of New York and Cincinnati, one may hope that even the blindness of party, and the narrowness of the Baltimore platform, will be made to give way to common sense, common justice, and the common welfare.-N. Y. Courier. The exports of Cincinnati for 1847, which was the first year during which any register of exports was kept, were in value $55,735,252, being an excess over those of New York amounting to nearly three millions of dollars. I might insist on a still greater disparity being exhibited, in the fact, that over five millions of dollars of the New York exports consisted of specie, an article in no degree an industrial product, and whose export, in fact, Sabbath Scripture Readings. By the late Dr. CHALought to be deducted from the business operations of New York, rather than be permitted to swell their amount. These statistics serve distinctly to show the vast superiority of interior to foreign commerce, as a means of adding to the wealth of any community. The probability is that five times the amount of productive industry was sustained in our shipments over theirs-the great body of their exports being merely forwarding of the products of the west. We give place to the above extract as one eminently fitted to arrest attention. We have not examined the figures, nor is it material, so far as the mere fact is concerned, of the greater amount of exports from this city or Cincinnati. MERS. New York: Harper & Brothers. A VOLUME of the posthumous works of this disbath Readings," it will be remembered, were the tinguished divine and philosopher. These "Sabprivate remarks and annotations of the author, and were never by him designed to meet the public eye; therefore, as indicative of his most retired religious they will be regarded as peculiarly interesting, meditations and devotions. They will form two volumes; the first, now before us, being devoted exclusively to the New Testament. Ewbank's Hydraulics and Mechanics. New York: Greeley & McElrath. WE have noticed the successive numbers of this work as they have appeared. The entire treatise But that there should be any means of com- is now completed, forming a handsome octavo volparison at all is the startling, and, let us add, the ume. We are free to say that a more instructive gratifying fact, that a city like Cincinnati, which and entertaining volume has rarely if ever been has sprung into being within the memory of living issued from the American press. There is scarcely men, covering with its populous streets and firm-a subject connected with hydraulics or the mechanic set mansions, and storehouses, and school-houses and churches-a region reclaimed from the savage within comparatively few years-should be already competing in trade with New York-the Queen of the Seas-among the earliest settlements of Europeans upon our shores-a city in short, of quite respectable antiquity in this New World, and as is commonly thought of a good deal of commercial activity, enterprise and wealth-this that is not illustrated, by both author and engraver, arts, from the remotest ages to the present time, in the volume; and the descriptions and explanations, drawn from ancient and modern sources inaccessible to the general reader, are written in a very popular and pleasant vein. Mr. Ewbank has given us a "treasury of knowledge" on these subjects, of incalculable use to the professed mechanician, and to the general reader really of more absorbing interest than many books having a more captivating title.-N. Y. Com. Adv. VERSICLES DREADFUL HURRICANE.-On the night of the 18th August, about one thousand boats, each manned by (FOR FATHERS AND MOTHERS ONLY) ON AN IN- five fishermen, left the various ports of the coast of FANT DAUGHTER'S FIRST WALKING. BY JAMES GREGOR GRANT. HA! ambitious little elf! Fair and softly-soft and fairly— Or the merest breath that met thee, Helm a-weather! steady, steady! Anchor now, or turn in time, Nay! adventurous little ship! Scotland, betwixt Stonehaven and Frazerburgh, for the herring fishery. When at the offing, at about an average distance of ten miles, and the nets down, the wind, which had continued during the day at south and south-west, suddenly chopped out to the south-east with rain. At about twelve o'clock it blew a gale, the rain falling in torrents, and the night was so dark that none of the land lights could be seen. As soon as the gale came some of the fishermen began to haul their nets, but the sea ran so high that most of the fleet had to run for the shore to save life. At Fraserburgh, the boats being to leeward of Kinnaird's Head, which forms the entrance to the Murray Frith, were less exposed than the boats to the southward, and managed to get a landing without loss of life; but at Peterhead, which is the easternmost point of the coast, and altogether exposed to an easterly gale, seventy out of the 400 boats that were fishing there are missing, and there is too much reason to fear that most if not all of them are wrecked or sunk. At daybreak on Saturday morning the scene that presented itself along the shore between the Buchanness lighthouse and the entrance to the south harbor, was of the most appalling description. The whole coast for a mile and a half was strewed with wrecks and the dead bodies of fishermen. Twenty-three corpses were carried into Peterhead before nine o'clock, and at the time the latest accounts left others were being constantly thrown ashore among the wreck on the sands or the rocks. Forty boats were wrecked within the circuit of half a mile, and so sudden and awful was the catastrophe that no means of succoring or saving the distressed and perishing fishermen could be devised. It is calculated that along the coast not fewer than 100 lives are lost. The fearful nature of these accidents on the Scottish coast is attributed to the use of open instead of decked boats in the herring fishing. REMEDY FOR TOOTHACHE.-A mixture of two parts of the liquid ammonia of commerce with one of some simple tincture is recommended as a remedy for toothache, so often uncontrollable. A piece of lint is dipped into this mixture, and then introduced into the carious tooth, when the nerve is immediately cauterized, and the pain stopped. It is stated to be eminently successful, and in some cases is supposed to act by neutralizing an acid product in the decayed tooth.-Lancet. A PIANOFORTE has been exhibited in London by M. Scherr, of Philadelphia; in which the attempt to conciliate the form of the square with the power of the grand pianoforte has been once again made with tolerable success. The instrument is easy in its touch, and its tone is brilliant, though thinner in quality than we English altogether like. The register, too, is fairly even-a desideratum not attained in many of the new inventions. M. Scherr, who belongs to Denmark, must hardly look to putting our own trusty and well-beloved" makers out of court; but his work seems to be conscientiously and solidly executed-and creditably to illustrate the musical requisitions of the country of his adop tion. No pianofortes sent out from Europe abide the climate of the New World.-Athenæum. 66 CHAPTER VIII.THE FIRST SORROW. Standing with reluctant feet, IDA was no longer a child. Seventeen years and six months had done their best to rob her of that sweet name; yet of the reality which the name implies they could not rob her. Her soul was still a clear mirror, unused to reflect anything but blue skies, shadowy woods, and loving faces. She was sitting on the shore at Mrs. Chester's feet, her cheek leaning against the knee of her friend, her lap full of shells and seaweed gathered in the evening's excursion, her eyes fixed upon the waters which were slowly heaving themselves out of purple shadow into golden light, under a sky vibrating with the thousand hues of sunset, and sprinkled all over with small bright clouds, some like frosted silver, and some like fragments severed from a rainbow. Her fair hair fell backwards from a face so pure, so radiant, so placid, that you might have fancied it the countenance of some guardian angel who had never needed to weep for the sins of its human charge. The deep, almost stern melancholy which was the habitual expression of Mrs. Chester's beautiful features, contrasted very painfully with such a vision of peace. Their voices blended in the tones of a solemn melody, to which Percy had adapted words suitable to the Casting life down At pleasure, to resume it as a crown? Or that our holier prayer Still consecrates thy symbol, that our fanes Plant their pure altars where Thine Eastern glory rains, Drops prophet-mantles on our beds of rest? Here, watching, let us kneel Through the still darkness of this grave-like time, Till on our ears shall steal A whisper, then a chime, And then a chorus: earth has burst her prison, The sign is in the skies! the sun is risen! "The whisper is on the earth already," said Mrs. Chester in a tone of enthusiasm, as the last notes died away; at least," she added, sighing, "for those who can hear it." "Dear Ida looked inquiringly into her face. Madeline," said she, "how sad you look to-night! Is there any reason?" "Yes-no-I don't know," replied Mrs. Chester, absently; "it is my birth day, Ida, and that is a time to be grave. I am afraid of the day. Every great change which has happened to me throughout my life, has either begun or been completed on this day, and there is scarcely one of them that I would not recall if I could." Ida took her friend's hand hesitatingly between her own, seemed about to speak, but checked herself, and after a moment's pause, said with a manner of assumed carelessness, "Was it to-day that you first came to live at Croye?" She "No, no-yet my coming to live here-But let us talk of something else, my Ida." spoke with effort, and turned away her face. "Why of something else?" said Ida, persuasively. "You said once that the day might come when you would tell me all about yourself. It is not fair to keep from me the privilege of knowing why you are unhappy, when we love each other so dearly." "But I am not unhappy, love," replied Mrs. I never Chester; "why should you think so? said so." "Said so!" exclaimed Ida, "but who is there that would come and look into your face and spread out his hands, and make a bow, and say, Look at me! see how unhappy I am!' If I were to see such a person, I should not believe that he had the capacity for unhappiness. But you you are lively in conversation, and grave when you think nobody sees you; you laugh openly, and sigh when you think nobody hears you; and sometimes you start and answer sharply when you are not angry, and tremble when there is nothing to be afraid of. Besides, you never throw out hints that you are not so gay as you seem; on the contrary, you delight to assure people that you are really cheerful when you seem out of spirits-indeed, I never heard you say as much about yourself before as you said just now. So the time is come, is it not, dearest Madeline ?-(throwing her arms caressingly around her)—I am not a child any longeryou are going to make a friend of me?" "You are both my child and my friend," replied Mrs. Chester, a few reluctant tears slowly breaking from her eyes; "but indeed this is all a mistake; you have watched me, out of your fondness, till you fancied what had no real existence. I have every reason to be grateful." "Grateful and happy are not the same, are they?" said Ida ponderingly. "Ought they not to be the same?" inquired her friend. "Why, no, I think not surely not," answered Ida. "We may be grateful for reproof, and yet I am sure that sorrowful because we deserve it. is what I often feel. Why do you smile! Oh! you are thinking that I deserve it, now, for press ing you to tell what you do not wish. You are alone," replied Ida. "There must always be not angry with me, are you?" And taking Mrs. two, hand in hand, supporting each other. A Chester's hand, she kissed it with an expression father and daughter, for example—is not that of the gentlest humility. true, dear papa?" Madeline embraced her tenderly; and Ida, fearful lest she was indeed obtruding her sympathy, hastened to change the subject. "You were playing Schubert to-day," said she ; "the Lob der Thränen.' I like no music so well; why is it that you so seldom play it?" "It is too exciting for every-day use," replied Madeline. "It would wear me to death. Beethoven is like Shakspeare-his music is objective -you are altogether lost in the composition, and in it you forget your own existence. It is as though a giant held you forcibly aloft, so that you see earth and heaven from a new and more commanding point. But there is always something personal in Schubert. He does not look down upon life, he struggles in the midst of it; and even in his conquest you are made conscious of the wounds of the battle. His expression is as intense as it is possible for it to be without losing suggestiveness after the scena from Faust, or the Ungeduld, I require a composing draught to fit me for the common duties of society." "Oh, it seems so different to me!" cried Ida. "I suppose that is because I have not talent for music, as you have. To me, now, such music as that seems like a wild, beautiful fairy tale, sometimes very melancholy, but then it is a sort of melancholy which gives pleasure." "That is a child's notion of life and the world, my Ida," said Mrs. Chester, fondly. "It seems a realm of mysterious enchantments, in which the gloomiest parts are but as shadows making pleasant contrast with the light. Nevertheless, they are deep enough to bewilder those who walk among them." "And the child's notion is, as ever," said Percy, who had approached them unobserved, "the germ of a great truth. The utmost reason can do for us is to regain, toilsomely and with loss, some of the jewels which instinct freely of fered us at first, but which we suffered to escape from our hands. What could the highest Christian say of life, more than that its griefs are shadows, whose purpose is to make the light stronger and brighter?" 66 Bet Percy turned his face slowly towards her, and looked at her with a grave smile. "You are right," said he; we cannot stand alone. ter to lean on a flower than on nothing." "But the poor flower may be crushed!” said Mrs. Chester. "Only "No fear of that!" exclaimed Ida. try it! You will find that it is a hardy shrub, and can bear a great deal of leaning upon. It is a very bad plan to give up seeking for comfort because you are afraid of not finding it—you can but do without it after all, you know, if your search proves vain. And perhaps, if you try, and trust, you will find all you want." "So that is your philosophy, my child," said Percy, with somewhat forced playfulness. "You think it better to make your life a series of disappointments than to do without hope." 'But would it be a series of disappointments?" asked Ida, looking into his face with an expression almost of fear. "Oh, papa, how sad that sounds! Surely, surely you don't mean it? How can we ever be disappointed in those we love?— unless, indeed," she added, "we begin by loving the wrong people, and then that is our own fault." "But, without being wrong people,' as you call it, the people you love may do wrong," suggested her father;" and would not that be a disappointment?" "It would, indeed," said Ida, gravely. "I never thought of that. But, you know, that is a grief which I might indeed cause you, but which you never could occasion me; so I suppose that is the reason of my forgetting it." Percy colored deeply, and bit his lip, but said nothing. He was as chary of praise to his daughter as he was lavish of affection. Not that he never praised her; but his commendations were invariably given to some effort or achievementsomething which had cost labor or demanded resolution. He was in nowise addicted to those little outbursts of parental admiration which are in some families awarded to the simplest expression of character or the commonest phrase of humility. "My dear, I'm sure I don't know what your "The highest Christian might say that," ex- faults are." "Well, if you can't, nobody else claimed Mrs. Chester, abruptly, "but—” She stopped as suddenly as she had spoken. Percy made no comment upon the unfinished sentence. He seemed to be preoccupied with some painful subject of thought, and sat down in silence by his daughter's side, shading his eyes with his hand. "Papa," said Ida, after a while, as she drew closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder, "there is one thing which you forgot about the shadows." "What do you mean, my love?" inquired her father. "It is very dangerous to walk through them can!" "Yes, you might, I dare say; but then, my love, there are not a great many people in the world like you," &c. &c. Let me not be supposed to ridicule the veriest extravagance, or the merest weakness of real affection. But there is a sort of conventional habit of mutual laudation, which sometimes grows up in the midst of an attached family, which is not, in itself, real, which is only a degree removed from egotism, and which is worse than ridiculous. The habit is not real, because it is often found to exist in company with a very keen appreciation of petty faults and personal offences separately, as they occur, which somehow are resented and condemned without af |