TEARS OF BITTERNESS. BY ROSE ACTON. A father's tears were falling fast But the hand of Death was on it, And the failing breath was hush'd, It seem'd he could not tear it thence And truly was the angel boy Meet shrine for parent's love : Of that happier realm above. Still seem'd it as a dream, until For the father's heart still, still it clung And he thought the tears which ever dew'd Had far beyond all other tears Of the stern world's bitterness. And the parent's grief, like morning mist He has started from his woe, to feel To welcome to his clouded soul Aye! once again young footsteps ring In the deserted halls, And the shadow of a fair young form More years have pass'd, and the laugh of mirth In Childhood's hour we must seek to list 'Tis manhood, and that laugh but wakes And now the parent stands bereft It was a cold winter night. Farmer Norton and his wife sat together in their snug chimneycorner, listening to the wind as it swept moaning round the house, or the white snow tapping softly against the casement. Presently there was another sort of tapping heard, almost as gentle, and accompanied by a sweet human voice, imploring shelter and protection. The good farmer sprang up to open the door -for truly it was a wild night for any one to be abroad-and a little creature, no bigger than a fairy, stepped lightly over the threshold and stood pale and shivering before him. The husband and wife exchanged glances of astonishment, not wholly unmingled with fear, at this singular apparition. The latter was the first to recover herself, and invite her tiny visitor to approach the blazing hearth, assisting her at the same time to remove the bonnet which had almost entirely concealed her features, whereupon her long bright hair swept the floor. She wore a coarse travelling cloak over a dress of the richest brocade, but much torn and weatherstained, and a broad ring of massive gold upon her hand; and when she held up her little feet to dry them, for they were quite wet through, Mrs. Norton noticed that she had nothing but a pair of thin kid shoes on, with stockings of the finest silk. The grateful thanks of the little maiden not only removed the fears, but entirely won the heart of her kind hostess, whom she had no difficulty in persuading to let her remain with them for a short time, promising to reward her handsomely; although, to do Mrs. Norton justice, she would have consented just the same, out of pity for one so young and friendless. Their little visitor told them that her name was Adele, and that she had neither father nor mother; only a harsh and cruel guardian, from whom she had run away. And if she could only keep out of his reach until the return of a kind friend and relative from abroad-the only real friend she possessed in the world-all would end well. "Three days and nights," said she, "I have travelled without stopping. But I am safe now; they will never think of searching for me here." "No, no, poor child," replied her hostess kindly; "and if he did, there would be no great difficulty in hiding you, I should think." "Ah! I am so small, you mean, that you might put me anywhere," said Adele, with a merry laugh that sounded like a burst of sweet music; and then becoming grave all of a sudden, and clasping her hands together, she added a brief thanksgiving to that kind Providence which had guided her over the moor to their hospitable dwelling. "And did you really cross the moor by your self, my child, and at nightfall?" "Yes, and was terribly frightened once by three rough-looking men; but I fancy they took me for some wandering spirit, for they started and stood on one side to let me pass, which I pretty speedily did, and never ceased running until I reached your cottage." Farmer Norton scarcely wondered at the men's terror as he watched the fairy-like being before him, now warm and comfortable, and as cheer ful as a bird; and it was not until they all kneit down, and he heard her sweet voice joining in the responses, and leading the simple hymn which generally terminated their devotions, that he felt quite sure she was really a christian like themselves, and not, as she had said, a wandering spirit! the Adele smiled as she glanced round the neat and humble apartment prepared for her reception; and had no sooner laid her head upon pillow than she fell fast asleep, dreaming of the past. Mrs. Norton stole in to look upon her before retiring to rest. She was still smiling, and talking rapidly in an unknown tongue; but presently the mood changed, and she went and wrung her tiny hands, calling upon the name of Louis to come and save her! While those tears and that wild grief sufficiently attested her mortality. It was not long before the old couple began "Good heaven!" exclaimed Adele, heard of such a thing. I had no idea people ever wanted for food !" 66 to look upon Adele as their own child; who, in | have they had this day, or will have, until it is return, did all in her power to evince her grate- done and paid for." ful sense of their kindness. The neighbours "I never could not make it out at all; and Mrs. Norton seemed to take a mischievous delight in increasing their bewilderment by her vague answers. Although small to a fault, Adele was exquisitely formed; graceful, and even dignified in her movements, with a certain je ne sais quoi, which, in spite of her simple attire, gained her the name of the "Little Lady," by which she is known to this day. The peasant girls wondered what any one could see in her, or how, indeed, they could see her at all; while the young men were perfectly bewitched by her bright eyes and merry smile. Adele might have had a dozen lovers, had she chosen, before she had been there a month; but the little maiden seemed somewhat wilful and hard to please, and never gave any of them the slightest encouragement-unless it was by laughing at them, and she could not help that. One morning, not very long after her arrival, as the little lady was passing a lone cottage which stood at the entrance of the moor, she met a young child, scarcely six years old, weeping piteously, and stopped to inquire the cause of his grief. The boy ceased to cry at the sound of her sweet voice, and, raising his large blue eyes wonderingly and trustingly to hers, smiled with a look of bright hope. "I know who you are," said he: "a good fairy come to save poor grandmother. She often used to tell me about you before she fell sick." "Poor child!" said Adele gently. "But I am not what you take me for, and can do you no good." "Oh yes, come in. Only look at her, and she will be well!" He pushed opened the door as he spoke, and Adele started at the scene which presented itself. An old woman lay in one corner of the room upon a little straw, and with no other covering but a coarse rag; while two half-clad children, with sunken eyes, and thin, hollow cheeks, played noiselessly together on the floor, or watched the busy fingers of their weeping mother as she sat spinning, her wheel being the only article of furniture in that desolate apartment. Adele advanced kindly towards her; while the children whispered together, and the old woman half raised herself on her straw pallet to look at their little visitor. "Are there no poor, then, where you come from?" asked the woman wonderingly. "No, I believe not: that is, I never heard of any." Oh, I wish we lived there. I wish we might all go to fairy-land!" exclaimed the little boy eagerly. "Grandmother and all!" Adele took the child up in her arms-as much as she could do, by-the-bye-and kissed him tenderly, while her tears flowed fast. Encouraged by her evident sympathy, her companion eagerly poured forth the sad history of their poverty and trials with all the touching eloquence of grief and reality, opening a new chapter in life's chequered volume to the sorrow-stricken Adele. It was but a common and every-day history after all, but she had never heard anything like it before. The little boy kept his large blue eyes fixed upon hers, while his mother spoke with a look of mingled reverence and hope, wondering what she would say or do, and marvelling that fairies should ever weep; and clapped his hands when Adele smiled again, as a bright thought flashed suddenly across her mind. "When did you say the rent must be paid?" asked she. "On Saturday; the landlord will not wait another hour. It will break my poor old mother's heart to leave the roof beneath which she was born, and has seen so many happy days that will never come again." "She shall not leave it!" said Adele. "I will see you before that time. Meanwhile, keep up a good heart, and hope for the best." She passed from among them and was gone before the astonished woman could find words in which to thank her. As soon as Adele had got out of sight of the cottage, she drew from her bosom the broad gold ring before mentioned, and kissed it repeatedly with tearful eyes. "Yes, I will be a good fairy to those poor people," murmured she; "and this is my talisman. Dear Louis! it was your gift. But I know your generous heart too well to fear that you should blame me.” That night there was a rustic dance given, to which the Norton's and their protégée were in"How cold you all seem," said Adele, shiver-vited. The little lady was unusually grave and ing as she spoke. "Why do you not have a fire? And a bed for your poor mother, instead of letting her lie on the cold ground?" 66 So we had, once," replied the woman, sadly; "but they took it from under her to pay the rent, together with everything else they could find in the house; and now they will turn us out at last. While my poor husband lived we managed well enough; but since his death everything has gone wrong, and, let me work as hard as I will, it is as much as I can do to earn bread for her and the children. But I must make haste and finish my task; for not a mouthful thoughtful, being still haunted by the sad events of the morning, and thinking perhaps of all the good she might have done-of a life wasted, and wealth lavished carelessly on things of little value. And what a blessed privilege it is to be rich, when we have once found out the true and only value of all earthly possessions, and vowed to be God's almoners henceforth to the poor and needy. Presently, one of the most devoted of Adele's rustic admirers, and they were not a few, came to request her hand for the dance just forming; and she sprang up with a bright and beautiful smile that sent a pang to the heart of a pale, gentleeyed girl, who stood at a little distance off, and who it was once thought Robert Thornton loved -but that was before the appearance of the "Little Lady." "I was just wishing for you," said Adele, frankly, as she passed her arm through his, although it made her shoulder ache to reach up so high; "but I do not want to dance this time." They sat down apart from the rest, while the pale girl wondered what they could find to talk about so long and earnestly, and shuddered as she distinctly saw the broad gold ring before mentioned cautiously transferred from the bosom of the "Little Lady" into the keeping of Robert Thornton; not doubting, in the simplicity of her heart, but it was some fairy talisman that bound him for ever to the beautiful being beside him. Just at that moment, Adele glancing up, their eyes met, and both were full of tears. "How pretty Mary Ashton looks to-night," whispered the "Little Lady" to her partner, as they stood up to dance. And talk of dancing, there was never such seen before or since in that quiet village. Adele-happy in the consciousness of having done a good action at some little sacrifice of her own selfish and individual feelings-could enjoy their wonderment to her heart's content; until, growing tired, at length she requested Robert Thornton to introduce her to his friend, Mary Ashton. And the young man, having performed his mission with evident embarrassment, retreated and left them together. Adele found her companion cold and shy, but was not to be repelled nevertheless; and poor Mary painfully felt all the fascination of her sweet manners and her strange beauty. "Will you allow me to ask you one question?" said the "Little Lady," having at length adroitly turned the conversation to the subject she wished. Do you think it possible for a woman to love twice?" Her companion felt the bitter mockery of the appeal, and strove in vain to answer calmly. Adele marked the trembling of her voice, and hastened to pour in the balm of hope and consolation, without appearing to see how much it was needed. "You would not answer so hesitatingly," said she, "if you had ever felt the deep truth of all this, Mary. I know not what it is that makes me confide in you, and tell you what I have never yet told a single human being-I love, and am beloved!" "And the ring?" exclaimed her bewildered companion. "Was his gift; but I wanted money, and have asked Robert Thornton to sell it for me, hearing that he was a steady and trustworthy young man." "O yes," said Mary; "we have known each other from childhood, and there is not his equal in the whole village--or the whole world either, I verily believe!" The simple-hearted girl paused abruptly with a burning blush; but Adele made no remark, she only smiled, and they were soon the best friends imaginable. While Robert Thornton, as he gazed upon Mary's bright and animated countenance, felt inclined to agree with the "Little Lady" that she did look exceedingly pretty. The commission was executed with the utmost secrecy and despatch; and there was not a happier little creature in the world than Adele as she poured every shilling into the lap of the poor woman, who had never seen so much money before in all her life. What a fortune it seemed to her! The cottage was to be re-furnished, the whole family comfortably clothed, proper medical advice procured for the aged grandmother, and all by the mere sacrifice of a ring-a bauble! The "Little Lady" laid the lesson to heart, and never forgot it during the remainder of her life. No music that she had ever listened to seemed half so sweet as their mingled prayers and blessings, and lingered so long and pleasantly in the memory, making har mony of all around. It is only thus that wealth can ever hope to buy happiness. Little Willie persisted in his belief that Adele was a real fairy! And there were not a few inclined to agree with him, when, a few days after wards, she was suddenly missing from among them, and none knew how or whither she had de parted; with the exception, perhaps, of the good farmer and his wife, who took a provoking plea sure in keeping such knowledge to themselves. Mary fancied that she possessed a secret clue to the mystery; but was too intent upon watching the effect of her absence upon Robert Thornton to think much about anything else. The poor and aged spoke together of the "Little Lady" with tears and blessings. And one old man was never weary of talking how she had met him tottering along in the burning sun, and stopped to offer him the support of that tiny arm; bidding him not to fear leaning upon it, and putting strength into his heart by her kind smile and winning ways. The children wept for their merry playfellow, almost a child herself in her glad sympathy in their pleasures and pur suits; calling to mind the songs she used to sing to them as they danced round her on the grass. The young girls began to admit at length that she was beautiful; while their brothers and lovers swore to it, and wished her back again with all their hearts. But finding, after a time, that there was no likelihood of such an event taking place, learned to be content with something less spiritual than the fairy-like Adele. Mary was too gentle, too sincerely attached, and too much of a true and fond-hearted woman, not to readily forgive her faithless admirer; and it is astonishing how little difficulty he found in persuading her-aye, and even himself alsothat he had never really loved any one else. More than a twelvemonth had passed away since the events above narrated. It was a cold winter day. Little Willie walked thoughtfully home from school, through the white snow, thinking of the kind fairy who had made them all so happy, and wishing-oh, how much that he could see her once again; when, all of a sudden, a travelling carriage, almost the first ever seen in that quiet village, dashed past him, and drew up before the door of Farmer Norton's cottage. The child peeped wistfully within, but saw only a tall, elegant man, with mustaches, and what seemed like a ball of fur rolled up in one corner of the carriage. Presently the gentleman alighted, and, lifting out the roll carefully in his arms, placed it safe and dry inside the cottage, whereupon the " Little Lady" appeared, laughing, and shaking herself straight; and the door being closed, the child saw no more, but ran off to tell his mother that the good fairy had come back. Willie found, however, that she had been there also, and left a blessing behind her. The old woman showed him her new bible, with the print so large that she could almost see to read it without her spectacles; while his mother and sisters had each their respective gift, and Willie, although absent, had not been forgotten. That day, Mary Thornton found herself the happy owner of the sweetest little clock that was ever seen, the wonder and admiration of the whole country round-the pride and ornament of her quiet home: which has been handed down as a precious heir-loom for many generations, and is still in the possession of the family. When Adele again appeared, she found the roads lined with the poor people, anxious to take a last look at their benefactress, for there were few who had not received some tokens of her kind remembrance; and the recollection of her sweet and tearful greeting lingered long in the hearts of all who beheld her. "Louis," whispered the "Little Lady," pressing close to the side of her husband, "how easy and happy a thing it is to confer happiness! How thankful should we be for this privilege! The rich have only to wave their golden wand, in order to become the good fairies of the poor and needy.” Her companion bent down to kiss the sweet face lifted so earnestly to his, while the gentle influence of a better spirit stole over him like a spell. The Little Lady was never seen again. Some believe to this day that she was a real fairy! Others only a simple and loving woman. A key to the whole mystery will probably be found in the relation of an event which took place about the period of which we write, and caused much excitement in the higher circles of fashionable life-the elopement of the Lady Adele B—from the house of her guardian, in order to escape being forced into a marriage with one whom she could never love. Every attempt to discover the abode of the young heiress proved in vain; but it was ascertained, beyond doubt, that she had departed alone, and unattended. When the Lady Adele again appeared, it was as the wife of her poor, but brave-hearted cousin, Louis M whom a sense of honour had alone prevented from disclosing a passion which was but too apparent in every look and action. But the pride of woman forbids her interpreting these signs until they have formed themselves into words; and the cousins parted at length with a veil over their hearts. Poor Adele! but what could she do? It was surely not her place to make the first advances; and yet, was she not rich, while he had no fortune but his sword? And could she help feeling that had it been otherwise he would have been at her feet long since? Reasoning thus, the Little Lady vowed to wed no other. A few lines, written with tears and burning blushes and hopeful smiles to think how soon it would bring him home again, and Adele fled from her guardian's house and the wealthy suitor he had provided for her, to return the proud and happy wife of Louis M▬▬. But a change had come over her. The wilful girl came back a thoughtful woman. She no longer lived for herself alone, or even for that dear one for whom she had dared so much, but strove to shed abroad the calm sunshine of her own glad spirit upon all human kind. The Lady Adele is supposed to have died abroad, of a rapid consumption, and while still very young, which may serve to account for her having never again revisited the little village where her memory is cherished to this day. The moral of our simple history-for all such have, or should have one-is best expressed in the words of its tiny heroine: "How easy and happy a thing it is to confer happiness! How thankful should we all be for this privilege; the rich more especially, who have only to wave their golden wand in order to become the good fairies of the poor and needy !" SONG-WHEN I GAVE MY HEART AWAY. BY GEORGE HALSE. When I was young, I rank'd among I gave my heart away. Yes! ere a thought with passion fraught My mind was tost, its freedom lost, Oh! could we prove before we love, But who can mart a loving heart, And yet I feel a pleasure steal |