handsome person: he behaved to me with much kindness, and I related to him my adventures: he saw Theresa, and seemed interested in our fate. He promised to plead our cause with Aimar, and pledged his word to restore my liberty when my father-in-law should be appeased; but although he had already written to our village, no reply had been received. "Time wore away, and my young captain's friendship did not diminish. Meanwhile Theresa became every day more melancholy, and when I entreated to know the cause, she spoke of her father, and turned the conversation. I was far from guessing that Frederick was a villain. This young man, with the ardor of youth had beheld Theresa with my own eyes, and his passion was stronger than his virtue, He knew our misfortunes he knew the value of his protection, and dared to hint to Theresa the price of his services. My wife was indignant; but knowing the jealous violence of my temper, she concealed from me the fatal secret. She resisted the artifices of Frederick unknown to me; whilst I, too credulous, every day vaunted to her of the generous friendship of my captain. "One morning, on coming off guard, I perceived, judge my surprize-Aimar himself!

"Traitor!' cried he, restore my daughter! restore the happiness of which your ingratitude has deprived me!'

"I fell at the feet of Aimar, and succeeded in appeasing him;-nature appealed irresistibly. I did not attempt my own justification. The evil is done,' said I, Theresa is my wife. On me let your resentment fall, but pardon your child-your only child. Come,' added I, behold an innocent who will plead for her mother.'

"Thus saying, in place of conducting him to Theresa, I led him to thee, thou wast in thy cradle, Gertrude; thine infantine roseate beauties lay there in smiling innocence. Aimar looked on thee, and his eyes filled with tears. I took thee up, and placed thee in his arms. Behold,' said I, 'once again thy daughter!' "The sudden movement disturbed thy slumber; yet, far from murmuring, you looked up in his face with the softest smile, and stretching forth your little arms, and twining your fingers in his gray hairs, drew down his face to thine. Aimar covered thee with kisses, and, carrying you with him, said, ' it is enough-lead me to my daughter.'

"You may conceive, my children, with what pleasure I

conducted him to your mother. Fearing the sudden emotion might be of injury to her, I pressed him to forewarn her of his appearance, and went first to apprise her.

"When I opened the door where your mother was-O God! what did I behold?-Frederick kneeling before her, pleading with vehemence his guilty transports! Scarce had my eyes beheld this spectacle when my sword was in his bosom. He fell, bathed in blood :—his cry alarmed the guard; I was immediately surrounded; and Aimar arrived as they were heavily loading me with irons. I embraced him, and recommended my fainting wife and helpless child to his attentions. I embraced thee also, Gertrude, and followed my comrades, who conducted me to a dungeon.

"Three days and nights I remained there, in such a state of mind as you may easily imagine. I was ignorant of what was passing, or of the fate of Theresa. I saw no one but my relentless gaoler, who only replied to every inquiry, that my condemnation must immediately take place.

"On the third day my gates were opened, and a detachment entered to march me to the field of parade. I saw the regiment advance, and beheld the dread instrument of my execution. The idea that my miseries had attained their climax gave me a desperate kind of courage, and I redoubled my steps, convulsively. My sentence was read, and I was delivered to the executioner; when, all at once, appeared a spectre-like figure, pale and bleeding, yet making strong efforts to pierce the armed crowd which surrounded me.-It was Frederick!

Stop!' cried he, I alone am guilty. My friends, pardon-pardon for the innocent!-it is I who deserve death. I would have seduced his wife.-His vengeance was just.— You are barbarians if you proceed.'

"The colonel advanced towards Frederick, and strove to calm him, by showing him the law which condemned me for having assaulted a superior officer.

"But I was not his officer,' said Frederick; I had procured his liberation. There is his dismissal, signed on the preceding evening; he is therefore no longer subject to your decree.'

"The commanding officers collected together, and, after a consultation, Frederick and humanity pleaded in my favor,

and I was reconducted to prison. Frederick wrote to the minister, acknowledging his own guilty conduct, and urging my pardon. It was granted.

Aimar, Theresa, and I, threw ourselves at the feet of my deliverer: he wished to heap benefactions on us; but we refused them, and repaired to this village, where the death of Aimar left me master of his possessions; and where my dear Theresa and I will end our days on the bosoms of our kind and our amiable children."

All the family of Pierre had pressed round him during this recital; he ceased to speak, yet they still listened, and tears rolled heavily down their cheeks.

"Be tranquil, children of my heart," said the good old man; "heaven and your love have recompensed all my

affections."

Each then clung round for the nocturnal embrace; Louisa impressed two kisses on the forehead of her venerable grandfather; and the cottagers retired to rest.

MARIE.

BY ROBERT SYDAL.

There is a hall of vast extent,
Bedeck'd with sculptur'd ornament,
Whose windows stain'd with ev'ry die
That paints the beauteous arch of sky,
Admit a dim and soften'd light,
Like the young eve of summer night,
Sweet strains of music faintly fall,
In echoes through that mighty hall,
A costly banquet loads the board,
The sparkling wine in cup is pour'd,
And, 'mid the martial trumpet's sound,
The noble chieftain's health goes round.

Beside him is seated a lady gay,
Lovely and young, in bride's array,—
Her smiles are pure and innocent,-
Her beaming eye on her lord is bent;

There is a language in that look,
On him for whom she has forsook
The harbour of her tender years-
The soothers of her childish cares:
It tells of love and trusting truth,
The deep, fond love, of woman's youth.
But he meets her with a fever'd eye,
Fill'd with deep anxiety;

He coldly shares her warm caress,~~~
His soul is full of bitterness,-
His bosom heaves a quiv'ring sigh,-
He turns again to revelry;

For the fairy smile she beam'd on him,
Caus'd moments past of love to swim
Before his eye; sweet moments spent
With one as pure and innocent;
With one who listen'd and believ'd
His vows of love, with one deceiv'd,
Who once was fair as eye might see
The lovely, lost, destroy'd Marie.

Oh! she was lovely as the blush of dawn,
Which spreads its beauty on the orient sky,
In the first rising of a sunny morn,

When from the vast expanse night's shadows fly :
Bright youth sat lightly on her careless brow,
With cheering playfulness and harmless glee,
And from her tongue would fairy music flow,
As the sweet mountain echo, wild and free.

Her best enjoyment, and her dearest' task,
To soothe an only parent's aged years,→
To gratify each wish ere he might ask,

To cheer his hopes, to banish all his fears;
His blessing was her sweetest recompence,-
His fond embrace repaid her anxious care;
And purest happiness, and innocence,

Did with Marie his humble cottage share.

Bounding at eve a-down a forest glade,

Whose thickly-tangled branches, spreading wide, Threw from the setting sun a lengthen'd shade Across a brook, whose murm'ring waters glide In rippling streamlets through the peaceful vale; On its soft bank a hunter met her eye, Sore wounded by the prey, and faint, and pale, Worn with the chase, and sinking there to die.

Awhile entranc'd th' astonish'd maiden stood,
Then anxiously she lifted from his brow
The hand which vainly stemm'd the ebbing blood,
And, with her kerchief bound, restrain'd its flow:
She gaz'd upon his face, as marble white,

And his sunk eye, which seem'd in death to close, Gleaming as dim as the receding light

On her fair countenance as she arose.

The springing fawn through the deep thicket flies, Fleet as the wind that bends the yielding grove, So up the mossy vale the damsel hies,

To call the peasants from their cots above; Then on a simple bed of branches made,

And softest-gather'd leaves bestrew'd around, With careful hands the wounded knight they laid, With gentlest pity bore him from the ground.

'Twas then Marie's to watch beside his bed,To catch each faltering accent on his tongue,To smooth the pillow for his aching head,

Or brighten his lone hours with her song;
And as returning health shone in his face,
To aid his first weak efforts with her arm,
Through the deep vale his failing step to trace,
To view the spot where he receiv'd his harm.

Then gratitude was beating in his breast,
And gratitude soon ripen'd into love,
The maiden, blushing, artlessly confess'd

The toils which Cupid round her heart had wove: