that time until the period of which I speak, the widower had resided with the youngest daughter. "Now comes the strangest part of the story. After an absence of thirty years, during which time no tidings had been received from him, the first husband returned as suddenly as he had departed. He had changed his ship, adopted another name, and spent the whole of that long period of time on the ocean, with only transient visits on shore while taking in or discharging cargo; having been careful, also, never to come nearer home than New Orleans. Why he had acted in this unpardonable manner towards his family, no one could tell, and he obstinately refused all explanation. There were strange rumors of slave-trading and piracy afloat, but they were only whispers of conjecture rather than truth. Whatever might have been his motives for such conduct, he was certainly any thing but indifferent to his family concerns when he returned. He raved like a madman when informed of his wife's second marriage and subsequent death, vowing vengeance upon his successor, and terrifying his daughters by the most awful threats, in case they refused to acknowledge his claims. He had returned wealthy, and one of those mean reptiles of the law who are always to be found crawling about the halls of justice, advised him to bring a suit against the second husband, assuring him that he could recover heavy damages. The absurdity of instituting a claim for a wife, whom death had already released from the jurisdiction of earthly laws was so manifest, that it was at length agreed by all parties to leave the matter to be adjudged by five referees. "Many years ago," said Mr. E―, "I happened to be one of the referees in a case which excited unusual interest in our courts, from the singular nature of the claim, and the strange story which it disclosed. The plaintiff, who was captain of a merchant ship which traded principally with England and the West Indies, had married quite early in life with every prospect of happiness. His wife was said to have been extremely beautiful, and no less lovely in character. After living with her in the most uninterrupted harmony for five years, during which time two daughters were added to his family, he suddenly resolved to resume his occupation, which he had relinquished on his marriage, and when his youngest child was but three weeks old, sailed once more for the West Indies. His wife who was devotedly attached to him, sorrowed deeply at his absence, and found her only comfort in the society of her children "It was on a bright and beautiful afternoon in spring, and the hope of his return. But month after month pass-that we first met to hear this singular case. The sunlight ed away and he came not, nor did any letters, those streamed through the dusty windows of the court room, insufficient but welcome substitutes, arrive to cheer her and shed a halo around the long grey locks and broad solitude. Months lengthened into years, yet no tidings forehead of the defendant; while the plaintiff's harsh feawere received of the absent husband; and, after long tures were thrown into still bolder relief, by the same hoping against hope, the unhappy wife was compelled to beam which softened the placid countenance of his adverbelieve that he had found a grave beneath the weltering ocean. sary. The plaintiff's lawyer made a most eloquent appeal for his client, and had we not been better informed about the matter, our hearts would have been melted by his touching description of the return of the desolate husband, and the agony with which he now beheld his household gods removed to consecrate a stranger's hearth. The celebrated Aaron Burr was counsel for the defendant, and we anticipated from him a splendid display of oratory. I had never before seen him, and shall certainly never forget my surprise at his appearance. Small in person but remarkably well-formed, with an eye as quick and brilliant as an eagle's, and a brow furrowed by care far more than time, he seemed a very different being from the arch-traitor and murderer I had been accustomed to consider him. His voice was one of the finest I ever heard, and the skill with which he modulated it, the va "Her sorrow was deep and heartfelt, but the evils of poverty were now added to her affliction, and the widow found herself obliged to resort to some employment, in order to support her helpless children. Her needle was her only resource, and for ten years she labored early and late for the miserable pittance, which is ever grudgingly bestowed on the humble seamstress. A merchant of New-York, in moderate but prospering circumstances, accidentally became acquainted with her, and pleased with her gentle manners no less than her extreme beauty, endeavored to improve their acquaintance with friendship. After some months he offered her his hand, and was accepted. As the wife of a successful merchant, she soon found herself in the enjoyment of comforts and luxuries, such as she had never before possessed. Her chil-riety of its tones, and the melody of its cadences, were dren became his children, and received from him every advantage that wealth and affection could procure. Fifteen years passed away: the daughters married, and by their step-father were furnished with every comfort, requisite in their new avocation of housekeepers. But they had scarcely quitted his roof, when their mother was taken ill. She died after a few days' sickness, and from inimitable. But there was one peculiarity about him, that reminded me of the depths of darkness which lay beneath that fair surface. You will smile when I tell you, that the only thing I disliked was his step. He glided rather than walked: his foot had that quiet, stealthy movement, which involuntarily makes one think of treachery, and in the course of a long life I have never met with a frank and honorable man to whom such a step let us ask her which of these two has been to her a was habitual. father.' "Contrary to our expectations, however, Burr made no “Turning to the lady, in a tone whose sweetness was attempt to coníute his opponent's oratory. He merely in strange contrast with the scornful accent that had just opened a book of statutes, and pointing with his thin fin- characterized his words, he besought her to relate briefly gers to one of the pages desired the referees to read it, the recollections of her early life. A slight flush passed while he retired for a moment to bring in the principal || over her proud and beautiful face, as she replied, witness. We had scarcely finished the section which 'My first recollections are of a small, ill-furnished fully decided the matter in our minds, when Burr re-apartment, which my sister and myself shared with my entered with a tall and elegant female leaning on his mother. She used to carry out every Saturday evening arm. She was attired in a simple white dress, with a the work which had occupied her during the week, and wreath of ivy leaves encircling her large straw bonnet, bring back employment for the following one. Saving and a lace veil completely concealing her countenance. that wearisome visit to her employer, and her regular Burr whispered a few words, apparently encouraging her attendance at church, she never left the house. She to advance, and then gracefully raising her veil, disclosed often spoke of our father, and of his anticipated return, to us a face of proud, surpassing beauty. I recollect as but at length she ceased to mention him, though I obwell as if it had happened yesterday, how simultaneously || served she used to weep more frequently than ever. I the murmur of admiration burst from the lips of all pre- then thought she wept because we were so poor, for it sent. Turning to the plaintiff, Burr asked in a cold, quiet sometimes happened that our only supper was a bit of tone, Do you know this lady?' dry bread, and she was accustomed to see by the light of the chips which she kindled to warm her famishing children, because she could not afford to purchase a candle Answer. I do.' Burr. Will you swear to that?' Answer. I will; to the best of my knowledge and without depriving us of our morning meal. Such was belief she is my daughter.' Answer. She was thirty years of age on the twentieth day of April.' Burr. 'When did you last see her?' Answer. At her own house a fortnight since.' Burr. When did you last see her previous to that meeting?' The plaintiff hesitated-a long pause ensued-the question was repeated, and the answer at length was, 'On the fourteenth day of May, 17-.' our poverty when my mother contracted a second marriage, and the change to us was like a sudden entrance into Paradise. We found a home and a father.' She paused. 'Would you excite my own child against me?' cried the plaintiff as he impatiently waved his hand for her to be silent. "The eyes of the witness flashed fire as he spoke. You are not my father,' exclaimed she vehemently. The law may deem you such, but I disclaim you utterly. What! call you my father?-you, who basely left your wife to toil, and your children to beggary? 'Never! never! Behold there my father,' pointing to the agitated defendant, there is the man who watched over my infancy-who was the sharer of my childish sports, and the guardian of my inexperienced youth. There is he who claims my affection, and shares my home; there is my father. For yonder selfish wretch, I know him not. The best years of his life have been spent in lawless freedom from social ties; let him seck elsewhere for the companion of his decrepitude, nor dare insult the ashes of my mother by claiming the duties of kindred from her deserted children!' "She drew her veil hastily around her as she spoke, and When she was just three weeks old,' added Burr. 'Gentlemen,' continued he, turning to us, I have brought this lady here as an important witness, and such, I think, she is. The plaintiff's counsel has pleaded eloquently in behalf of the bereaved husband, who escaped the perils of the sea and returned only to find his home desolate. But who will picture to you the lonely wife bending over her daily toil, devoting her best years to the drudgery of sordid poverty, supported only by the hope of her husband's return? Who will paint the slow progress of heart-sickness, the wasting anguish of hope de-giving her hand to Burr, moved as if to withdraw. ferred, and, finally, the overwhelming agony which came upon her when her last hope was extinguished, and she was compelled to believe herself indeed a widow? Who can depict all this without awakening in your hearts the warmest sympathy for the deserted wife, and the bitterest | scorn for the mean, pitiful wretch, who could thus trample on the heart of her whom he had sworn to love and cherish? We need not inquire into his motives for acting so base a part. Whether it was love of gain, or licentiousness, or selfish indifference, it matters not; he is too vile a thing to be judged by such laws as govern men. Let us ask the witness-she who now stands before us with the frank, fearless brow of a true-hearted woman 'Gentlemen,' said Burr, 'I have no more to say. The words of the law are expressed in the book before you; the voice of truth you have just heard from woman's pure lips; it is for you to decide according to the requisitions of nature and the decrees of justice.' "I need scarcely add that our decision was such as to overwhelm the plaintiff with well-merited shame." Brooklyn, L. I. SURMISE is the gossamer that malice blows on fair reputation; the corroding dew that destroys the choice blossom. Surmise is the squint of suspicion, and suspicion is established before it is confirmed. Original. THE DEATH OF NERO. BY EDWARD MATURIN. CHAPTER I.-THE PEOPLE. "Better be with the dead, EVEN to the termination of his reign, Nero persisted in the same levity of character which had hitherto marked its course. He was still swayed by a passion for dramatic entertainments, and an ambition to be distinguished by his excellence in music. For the gratification of these desires, he had betaken himself to Naples, where the constant current of pleasure weaned his mind from the cares which embarrassed it at home. While here, his principal occupation was the construction of an hydraulic organ, which, if successful, he promised to exhibit on the stage. But the fancied security of a Tyrant is as de ceitful as the sullen calm which precedes the storm. It is, as it were, the momentary slumber of Nature ere she rises with renovated strength and collected energy. A fatal stillness hangs on the air, and the clouds muster in silence, like a host who rally in the ambush of midnight. So was it with Nero. While the Emperor forgot his dig nity in the characters of coachman and comedian, his people renounced their allegiance, and the revolutionary feeling extended itself even to the Provinces. An insurrection had broken out in Gaul, under the conduct of one Julius Vindex, whose father, in the days of Claudius, had been Senator; and at his instigation, Galba, the succeeding Emperor, was creating a similar movement in Spain. Both, however, proved unsuccessful. Virginius Rufus was appointed to take the field against the Gauls, and defeating them with great slaughter, compelled them to fly. So great was the disgust created among the Roman legions under his command by the character and frivolities of Nero, that they made a tender of the Imperial Dignity to Virginius, which was, however, declined. Vindex, unwilling to survive the defeat of his struggle for liberty, fell upon his sword on the field. At length the intelligence of the danger which threatened his empire, and the emotions which prevailed throughout Italy, roused the enervate monarch from the lethargy into which vice and pleasure had plunged him. He abandoned his favorite hydraulic instrument, and the trifles which detained him at Naples, and hastened to Rome. His fears were, however, soon dissipated by the arrival of letters from Virginius, containing the death of the insurgent, Vindex. The Emperor testified his pleasure by singing to his harp! The defeat of his enemies, while it appeased his fears, gratified his pride. On his way to Rome, he had seen a monumental sculpture, representing a Roman soldier dragging along the ground a vanquished Gaul by the hair. He willingly imputed this event to a favorable omen from the Gods; and their will had been already signified in the suppression of rebellion. In the meantime, the spirit of faction which had so recently disturbed the peace of the Provinces, was gradually extending to the very heart of his capital. The vices of his private life, and the unjust rapacity with which he seized the treasures of wealthy citizens, and squandered them in the hours of wantonness and pleasure, were gradually dissolving the ties between Prince and people. An event which had accelerated the progress of revolution, and, operating on the public mind, ripened into action those principles which but waited for a pretext. The city was at that period threatened with a famine, and the people remained in eager anticipation of relief. At length a vessel arrived from Alexandria, supposed to be laden with corn. Their joy was soon exchanged for rage and indignation when they discovered, that instead of conveying the expected supply, the ship was laden with sand from the banks of the Nile, for the purpose of smoothing the arena for gladiators and wrestlers. They no longer restrained their sentiments. The transports of public rage were at times, exchanged for expressions of scorn and contempt towards their Prince. The streets were filled with multitudes clamorous with indignation and revenge. Away with this monster," cried one of the leaders. "He sports with his people and their wants. We ask for bread, and he gives us sand. Down with the Tyrant whose throne is supported by pillage and bloodshed!" "Ay," replied another, "he hath plundered citizens to supply his wants and pleasures. When our country was in danger he hath been contending for prizes in Greece and Naples. He hath forgotten the name of Roman, and seeks to wrest it from us, also." "Where is Vindex?" shouted a third. "He was a soldier. Better have a soldier on the throne, than a minstrel and player. Away with this buffoon. Away with him, we say. On! To the palace!" The murmurs of popular discontent extended to an unexpected quarter. The Prætorians, who, from the very nature of their office-body-guard to the Emperor-had been loyal to his throne, now exhibited symptoms of disaffection, and took side with the insurgents. Popular passions are seldom without a leader whose eloquence and arts though apparently devoted to the public weal, are too frequently the tools of his own advancement. Their tendency to rebellion was confirmed by the example of Nymphidius, a Prætorian Præfect. To ingratiate himself with the populace, and ensure the destruction of the Tyrant, he distributed bribes, and promised liberal bounty in the name of Galba. He thus endeavored to establish the dangerous precedent of a Prince's election to the throne by the violence of the soldiery, rather than the sanction of a deliberative assembly. Thirty thousand sesterces were promised to each Prætorian. The soldiery being thus secured, his next aim was to represent to the senate the utterly destitute condition of the Emperor, which therefore left that body comparatively in possession of supreme power. The assembly remained in suspense. Timidity and irresolution marked their proceedings. The panic had reached the palace. The people and soldiery had at length thrown off the mask. Public opinion had yielded to the sense of oppression and rapacity. The sensualist paused in his pleasures, and the Tyrant forgot his cruelty. CHAPTER II.-THE PALACE. "Down with the Tyrant! Away with the player!— Galba—a soldier for the Cæsars' throne!" Such were the cries uttered by the people as they surrounded the palace. It is a fearful thing to witness the last moments of the guilty. The nerve which has supported them in the hour of bloodshed and horror, seems to be relaxed; the sternness which has never bent to circumstances, is at length awed into the weakness of childhood; and conscience, who has marked in silence the workings of passion, and the blow of the assassin, gives now to the tongue of the accuser the poison of revenge. Such were the feelings of the Tyrant as he heard without the clamors of hatred and derision. The noise of his insulted people rang in his ears like the reproofs of conscience. It revived his career of crime and folly, and almost declared the penalty which was exacted for both. "Hearest thou that, Epaphroditus?" he exclaimed as another shout rent the air; "how wouldst thou advise? Flight? Speak, speak." Pale, hesitating and trembling, he fixed his eyes on the secretary. "The hour for Caesar's flight is not yet come," replied his favorite; "this many-mouthed monster can be silenced by force. Cæsar can yet appeal to the camp, and shall be answered by the loyalty of his soldiers." 'No, no, not one, not one left," ejaculated the wretched man; "they, too, have forsaken me. that? They shout for Galba." Ha! hearest thou Nymphidius, with dissembled sympathy, "when rebellion is even at the palace-gate. Consult thy safety." 'Save me," said the helpless man clasping his hands imploringly," and thou shalt own the gratitude of Cæsar." "I can devise but one plan for thy escape," replied the Præfect, after a pause. "Thou hast but one place for thy retreat. Egypt." "Must I then fly ?" said Nero, as he cast his eyes round the apartment, and felt that the abandonment of his palace was the abdication of his throne. "Can they not be appeased?" "Thou hearest their clamor," said the Præfect; "as well might we tame the tempest." "Then must Cæsar fly," exclaimed Nero. "Canst thou secure my retreat from the palace to the ship?" "I will leave nought untried," replied Nymphidius, as he withdrew. "They dare not raise him to the throne," replied servant to quell this clamor, and nought save bribes drove Epaphroditus." "Nay, talk not thus," replied Nero, "I tell thee they who have power dare to act as will. How now, Nymphidius?" he said abruptly, as the latter entered. "All is lost," replied the Præfect with dissembled regret. "Lost!" retorted Nero, with an air of offended pride. "Now, by Jupiter! thou tauntest Cæsar on his throne. I tell thee Rome is safe while her Cæsar lives." The momentary courage which animated his words seemed to expire with them; his brow contracted, and his lips quivered as he muttered, "Death, death." the people from thy gate." "Rome would be safe," replied Nymphidius, eyeing the rankling of the wound, "to give thee needless fears; his terror with delight, "but the Prætorians-" "No more of that," interrupted Nero, as rage in turn supplanted fear, "no more of that. Treason in the camp, and sedition among the people." "The Fathers, too—" "Have joined them?" interrogated Nero. "And are prepared to issue a fatal decree," replied Nymphidius. but when I ordered them to repair to Ostia, the reluctance was too manifest to admit a doubt as to the allegiance of the Prætorians. One of them asked me, 'Is it so wretched a thing to die?' As he spoke, the sneering malignity which marked the expression of the man barbed the imputation of cowardice contained in his words. "To die! To die!" muttered the Tyrant, almost inaudibly. "Cæsar, hath it then come to this? Have the children arisen against the sire, taunting him with the fear of death? Alas!" exclaimed the wretched man, pressing his hands to his fevered brow," now my deeds "It is now too late to speak of vengeance," replied recoil on mine own head. The Fates ensnare me in the "All, then, is lost," muttered the Tyrant. "Oh, that the slaves were mine as before," he continued, in a tone of ferocity, "they should feel my vengeance." meshes of mine own net. Hark," he continued, starting in terror as imagination painted the clamors of an insurgent people. "What noise was that?" "My lord, I heard none," replied the Præfect, calmly. The Tyrant listened attentively, when he found that he had become a dupe to his own fears, the tears of agony and shame came to his relief. He leant on the shoulder of the treacherous Prætorian, and wept bitterly. "Thou but sportest with time," said the Præfect in a tone which disguised design under affected sympathy. "Let not Rome see Cæsar play the girl, when her disobedience claims the sterner appeal of the sword and punishment." "True, true," said the Emperor, starting from his reverie, the mention of punishment reviving at once the sense of rank and power; "true, the tear should not be now the Prince's weapon-the sword-the lash," he continued, convulsively locking his hands. "Slaves, slaves!" "Those slaves," rejoined Nymphidius, with bitter irony, 'may become masters when the sovereign abjures his sceptre." "The game prospers," said the Præfect, coolly, as he smiled at the weakness and terror of his Prince. "The people shall be backed by the Prætorians. This night the latter shall desert their posts at the palace, and join their comrades in the camp. The days of Nero are numbered, and Galba shall wear the Cæsars' crown." CHAPTER IV.-LOVE AND MISERY. The wretched man, with the delusive hope of suffering, had but exchanged one place of torment for another. The criminal, by flight from the spot of his guilt, hopes to bury its memories, and still those murmurs of conscience which rise like curses, "not loud but deep" from the grave of his victim. But though the external world may change its aspect and features, the heart and mind are still the same. Conscience, like a persevering anatomist, still holds the probe and cautery to the wound. And though Nature may smile and bloom in the place of his retreat, though the skies be blue, and the sun gleam with his accustomed brightness, yet guilt, with her sable curtain, obscures the face of day, and makes creation a darkness and a blank. As the Præfect spoke, the mention of concession to his people roused the dormant pride of the Prince, and He had fled from one chamber only to be haunted in the recollections of the lofty House from which he traced another with the shadows of fear and crime which harhis descent. He, for the moment, forgot "the taste of rowed and persecuted him. As he hurried rapidly fear;" his eyes kindled, his countenance became flushed, through the passages, he seemed to be pursued by the and his form assumed an air of imperial command, as lashes of the Furies, yet shuddered to advance, when the imagination seemed to embody the glories of his House. || very floor at every step was stained with crimson. Still, "Cæsar," he exclaimed, after a pause, " shall die with on he rushed, his gait tottering and uneven, his eyes that sceptre in his hand.” The burst of pride, how- wandering and wild, and his hands locked in earnestness ever, was brief and weak. It sprang rather from a sense for protection from the Gods, as every footstep sent its of insult than courage to resent it, and shone as faintly hollow echo through the vacant space. as the last torch ere it expires by the funeral-pile it watches. "Thou wilt not leave me, Nymphidius?" he said, imploringly, as fear began to reassert her former "It is the people," said the Præfect. "Save me, save me," exclaimed Nero, rushing to the feet of the soldier, and burying his face in his mantle. 'Rise, rise, my lord," said Nymphidius, reprovingly, "let not thy servants see Cæsar at my feet." The Emperor rose hastily, and casting his eyes wildly round the apartment, observed his sword. He rushed and seized it. As he held it in a position to receive his fall, another shout still closer rang through the palace. The sword fell from his hand. He stood fixed to the spot. The drops fell profusely from his brow. His eyes glared fearfully. "Not yet, not yet. I dare not," fell brokenly from him, and twining his fingers in his damp and matted hair, he rushed from the chamber. He at length reached a small ante-chamber connected with his own private apartment, and flinging himself with violence on a couch, burying his face in his hands, the harrowings of fear were succeeded by the bitterness of grief. Through his locked hands the tears gushed profusely, but the spirit of repentance slumbered, while grief and terror unlocked the fountains of nature. Where the mind is harrassed, the body partakes its restless uneasiness. He started from his couch, and paced the chamber. "The Gods-the Gods vouchsafe their aid!" groaned the guilty man. "Ha! back-back, I say, thou bloodstained shade," he continued, clasping his hands to his eyes, as imagination bodied forth the spectre of his own thoughts; "back, there's blood upon that hand-those eyes-that form-Jupiter! shield, protect thy servant!” Pale and shivering he sank upon his knees, his hands still firmly clasped to his eyes; he slowly withdrew them, and surveying the apartment with a hurried and trembling glance, rose from the ground. "Fool, fool," he murmured, "what can'st thou see? 'Tis here-here-the vulture preys, and the fires waste and burn-ha! do I dream?" he continued in a recollective tone, as though fear had broken the chain of connected thought. “Why stand I here parleying with conscience, when murder even stalks through my palace? They would have me fly! Alas! alas! whither? Hark! what sound was that?" he paused and listened. In that breathless moment not a sound was heard. "Fool!" he said, in a tone of bit |