101'!!! All) STEP IOTHIR. cnrraa ii. ‘

' lat spite of the dissatisfaction which Mrs. Wilton Brook had expressed at her brother’s Jam e, she was by no means deﬁcient in anxiety b see or new sister-in~law, and she appreciated her_brothcr’s position too highly, not to be anxious so in ratiste herself with a wife who she felt wool exercise a strong inﬂuence over him. She accordingly dressed her ‘putty person in the most 3Pl_>'°'¢d flllliﬂl. an pro red her lips for smiles and compliments, as drove to visit the bride at Mivart‘s Htpal.

_ If her prejudice had, been stronger than it was. at must have yielded to the grace and beauty of the stranger. Brook, too, could not but be struck by the improvement in her brother’a ap- pearance, and she was grateful to her who had ofected it; for, though a worldly woman, she was not deficient in natural affection. Sir Edward was her only brother, the head of her family, and ehe almost forgot poor Ann, when she gazed on

' renovated form, and saw the tender pride with which he watched the movements and listened to the words of his young wife.

The appearance of the child awoke the train of old recollections in the mind of his aunt, and when she had admired his growth and caressed his fair long hair, she could not refrain from whispering to his father:

" How like poor Ann! ”

Lady Irwin caught the whisper; her lip quiver- ed, and the colour deepened in her cheek; she drew the child closer within the circle of her arm, and said softly——“l think him so like Edward

“So he is,” returned Mrs. Brook. “ He is like Edward about the nose and mouth; but he has his mother’s eyes.”

It did not please Lady lrivin that the child’s eyes were so large and tender.

“ They are ver beautiful,” she said, with an euxiotis,half-fear ul look at her husband; but

ere was no sorrowful recollection in his cogn- tenance—noihing but present love and happiness.

“ You can form no idea, Fanny, of what a mother Frank has in this dear little sister I have brought you. I cannot understand it, such a child as she is. Well might the poet say

‘ The love of children is a woman’a instinct.’

“ What! you haven’t cured him yet of his abominable habit of quoting what nobody can understand, Helen 1”

“O no! [don't wish to do it, either. You will laugh at us. I dare say, when I tell you, that he is to give me regular lessons when we get home. lknow a little Latin already, but not enough to be of any use. We have arranged our occupations fortlie winter. Edward’s wife ought not to be a smatterer, you know.”

“ Butl hope you are not going to let him bury you and himselldown at Swallowﬁeld. It was had enough before. but to hide you in the country would be a crying scandal indeed.”

“ 0, we have not the smallest intention of doing anything ofihe kind-—have we, Edward? Do not alarm yourself, dear Mrs. Brook. 1 am quite as fond of society as you can desire.”

“ Well, that’s some comfort. I only hope and srust that you do not intend to lay yourself out for a literary lady; that will do some twenty years hence; at present, it would be a positive sacriﬁce. am not sorry that you are only gassing through town now; it would not have

one to take olfthe gloss of your debut by ap- pearing at the end of the season.”

" 0 no! that would be an improvidence indeed,” returned Helen, laughing. " I hsven’t tired Edward out yet, and we intend to live demtirely and properly this winter, thatlmay come out span new with country cheeks next spring. We are going home to-morrow. It sounds so strange to talk of going home to a place one has never eeen, but I almost seem to know it, I have made Edward tell me so much about it, from the lime avenue by the river side to the old oak cabinet in his study. I shall soon know the ways of the hoops, and then I hope you will come and see us.

" That’a a very civil speech of yours, my dear,” said Mrs. Brook, in high good humour: “ and you may trust to my discretion not to break in upon you too soon. But what do you say to leaving me the boy for the present? I will take great care of him, and my girls will be nice playmates for him.”

This invitation was declined with thanks, but with a haste which showed that neither Sir Edward nor his wife were inclined to forego the ﬂeasnre each derived from the presence (if the child. Perhaps Mrs. Brook had given the invitation to test the real state of her sister-in- law’s feelings towards her little nephew ; certainly she did not seem displeased that it was not aoce t- ed and took her leave, enra tured with t e brfde, and perfectly reconciled to or brother.

CHAPTER III .

A III weeks saw Sir Edward Irwin and his lady established for the winter in their handsome country mansion. When the pleasant task of showing his estates to his wife was over, and the excitement cfretursisg in joy to the bone which he had left in sorrow and weakness, had subsided, Sir Edward resumed hisold, but long lnterra ed pursuits; and his wife, true to her I

~mtersd on a course of study which should enabldl

HASZARD’S GAZETTE. JUNE 20.

her to sharejthem. Nor did her e be after a few weeks of strenuous utmost; her mind, vigorous and enquiring, demanded a pursuit which called its powers into action, and her proud spirit rose with the ditllculties which presented themselves. Her husband smiled at her eager- ness. and was delighted at her intelligence; I0 that the hours he spent in assisting her in the sgveredstudies she undertook. were the pleasantast o a a .

And [lady Irwin was happy. Her husband had no thought beyond her, the boy throve and loved her; but yet her happiness was not perfect. More passion never brings happiness; it is of the oartli,earthy,aodbu.ns ‘ ‘ ‘ ' ' itself. The love that does not come from lleaven, that does not look to Heaven for its perfection, cannot raise, cannot purify the heart-it is a restless wind that stirs the troubled soul, and will not let it be at peace—it is unquiet and ingenious as self-torture. So it was with elen Irwin; between her and her happiness came a shadow, the phantom of one who had ceased to be.

The picture of the first Litdy Irwin hung in the drawing-room, and she would sit and gttze at it until the canvas seemed to glow, and the sweet thoughtful face to live, smiling down upon her in secure trium h. She tortured herself by imagining the tenderness with which those large gray eyes had hung upon her hus- band, the loving words which those lips had uttered. If at any time his eyes dwelt on the

icture, or if he involuntarily compared the eatures of his son with it, she could hardly control her impatience; and she would break from the boy in the midst of his caresses, if the resemblance he bore to his mother happened to strike her.

So time passed, till a little girl was born to her, and the disquiet of her soul was hushed for awhile; the infant stole the trouble from its mother’s heart, and awakened in her bosom trcngc yearnings for something better and

urer than she had yet known. The great mystery of that new life, made so dear by sutiering, and still so dependent on her, stirred her to meditation on the great mystery of our being—t.he weakness incidental to her condi- tion, while it humbled her pride, softened her heart to receive with mcckncss the only doc- trine thnt can explain it. But in it few months the frail infant sickened and died. No tciir wetted the mother’s cheek, shc endured in silence the affliction to which she would not submit, impiously arrnigning the Hand that sent it, and the vague conception of religions truth which she had begun to entertain vanished, and darkness closed in upon her sou . She had her child buried in a quiet corner of the churchyard, away from the vault where

ady Irwin lay, and thither she would wonder at lonely hours, and sit on the little mound with dry eyes and an angry heart. The hare- bells that grew spontaneously about it slio plucked and bore away, but she hung no gur- ands on the stone and planted no ﬂowers over the place of her infnnt’s rest.

Her studies, which she had rather neglected during the little one’s life, she now resumed with increased nrdour, seeking distraction for her aching heart in mental exercise. Her hus- band aware that all was not as it should be, though far from apprehending the true nature of the grief of wbic she never spoke, willing! lent her his aid, hoping that the pursuits wbic yielded him such satisfaction would act with medicinal virtue upon her. Her mind thus ac- quired strength, but her heart did not keep pace with its progress; the circle of her affec- tions narrowed, no interchange of friendly sympathies with her equals drew her from her- self, no tender acts of personal charity to the poor about her softened her sorrow. She be- came cold and stately, and proud of her secret grief unprofunod by common pity and unlike that of any other.

A youn woman in the village who had been married a ortly after Lady Irwin's arrival at Swallowticld, lost her baby soon after the death of lIelen’s dau hter. She wasa simple crea- ture, nnd the it iction lay sore upon her. for her husband was often rough, sometimes unkind to her, and, being from it distant art of the country, she had few friends in t e village. Many it summer evening did she spend in the churchyard, and many a tasteful rind of wild ﬂowers did she weave to dress or baby's grave. More than once Lady Irwin passed her in the gleaming, but her heart never softened

ﬂu ,

with a feeling of kindred sorrow; she rather despised the grief which could find relief in we childish demonstrations, and the poor‘ woman—with the one thing that loved her laid. in the dust, with clothes barely suilicient to. cover her and a cold hearth at home-was richer and hop ior than the beautiful lad

whose costly re s brushed her as she passe , for. in the depth of her desolation, she could

look to One, who had promised to bear her sorrow, in the light of whose resence she‘ mi ht hope to be reunited to her rlin . I

a world, as it is called, occupie a due, share of Lady Irwin's time and attention: her; tastes inclined her to magniﬁcence, her beauty; and her talents to display, while her husband a, fortune justidod her in assuming a leading! sition in society. No rties were more‘

liiiiisio, no ‘dinners mm gpointedthen hers. 5

Science, literature, and art were duly honoured. was an accomplished. conversatlonaliat, and she herself possessed the rarer virtue of being an excellent listener. Thus her house was tlio_i-esort of men of the hi hast intellectual attainments in town, and when at Swallcwtleld, she was rarely without vieittars whose names were known and hop: ours . _

But though Lad Irwin had many admirers she had no fricn a; she asked no syin athy, and had none to givc—n_one,_nt less , or the sorrows and joys of daily life—she.~was self- contained. [no man such it character is hard and scd—bow much harder, how much sadder, in a. woman, whose vocation it is to temper the stern realities of life, who, to be strong, must have some touch of weakness, who, if _by too easy credulity, she opened the way to siri and death, should also point that road _to life by faith perfected in the sense of Iicr infirmity.

Aware of the violence of her. passions, and falsely believing that unsubdued vigour of natural instinct was a proof of greatness of cliaructer, there was nothing of which Lady Irwin stood in such dread as the compassion of people of atamsr temperament. She, therefore, learnt, not indeed to govern her feelings, but to repress all outward. manifestation of them, and to hide the tumult ot her bosom under a cold and stately hearing. She became silent and inclined to solitude, ‘or to the dangerous intimacy of Agnese, a tvaitiii.t1~W0mN| who had followed her from Italy, and to wtioin more than to any other creature, she was in the habit of unveiling her emotions.

It seems to be an imperative law of our nature that the heart should unburthen itself to some one. When he whom we trust is indeed a friend, faithful in counsel and atroiig in comfort, obedience to this law is the sweetest solace of our earthly pilgrimage, but when we hide the ugly ptirtitiiis of our character from those who love us, and expose them only to those of whose judgment its stand in no awe, who, our inferiors in iiilellrct and station, pander to our passions and foster our evil tendencies, there is no perverted blcssin,-_v which may be turned to more deadly account.

Agnese Pistorolla was the natural tlilllﬂlllef of a Venetian nobleman, who hail been assassinate-d by her mother in it fit ofjealous despair. Hating.- accomplished her crime, the inurdvress was over- wlielmed with remorse, and, far from allelllpllltu to make her escape, herself sent to summon thi- officers ofjustice, and lay with her loosened hair falling like a poll over her victim till they arrived Ilcr youth, her beauty, and the violence of her passions, drew inttch attention to her case, but

if need were, to prove her devotion to hu- mistress by sacriﬁcing herself to avenge hat; but the need did not arise. Ile had loved bg. fore—dearly loved, it was said; but she and Helen were both persuaded that true _ rim, was now, for the first tune, awaken in hi. bosom. When they were_ inarri , and Sir- Edward dually rela _ d into his old habits, the esce ency whidi is wife exercised over him tell: no room for jealousy. ‘however much she might fret _at the evenness and placidity of ' temper.

How mutually injurious ‘these two women were, may easily cenyectnred. Neither octed as corrective to the other; but each strengthened and conﬁrmed the other’s evil tendencies.

5' -I 3

( To be continued.)

GLEANING8 FROM LATE PAPERS.

A Rt'.~'si.tivisrn Eivoi.isniuia'.—Among some troops recently embaked for the.Crimea is Corporal Cuiiipton, of the 77th Regiment, who has been seventeen years in Russia as a. civil engineer, and in almost every im ortunt place in the empire. He had in his ntipsuck ten Russian (good) characters from oﬂiccrs and departments in which he has been employed. He is it native of Maidstone, it. fine, hale, eta]. wart fellow, and says he has 2000 dollars in a. Russian bunk. Ilo asserts he was three days in one of the bottiilions of British Guards three months ago, but not entered, because the colonel suspected him ofbeinga Russian sp — —he speaks nnd writes Russian so perfect y ; he was coiiscquently rejected, and has only been enlisted in England three months. He ciiine over front Purkhurst depot, with, the detachment of tlic 77tli. He is a wellspoken, respectable-lookiiig soldier, and bears It good cliaructcr among those whom he has recently joined.

ll0S|'l1‘.tl.(‘t)3ll<‘tiltTS.—;\ letter received from it private soldier. iminud llugh Fisher, it native of s‘.tl'l)(Ill(Ill, stiiti-s—“ Although I am now lying in at hospital, [could not be better oil" though I was zit lionic—-indeed, I could not he so well, lb-t‘:tlls‘0 you could not afford to give me the ti-caitniciit I got ore. I have for i-ucli day's iillowzinco ti. pound of splendid white bread We got our teu ut eight in the morn- ing. I got two i';;;_;s then, and I get plenty of arrow root and sugo. mixed with wine. I have two gills of nine, chocolate, and lemonade to drink. About one o'clock I have a basin of

she was ..x......‘...d—subntittin;: to her fate with

mutton broth, and then about two I get rn

me cunsmncy of one who km“. ,, ,0 be me ,,;,n,. E cliickon soup and cliickens._——A_fter that, I can ral consequence of her tlevd. the cnmpcnsation,;:,ct either rim! pudding. WiII0iI_|5 made 0f1'l¢0. due to the Manes of her lover. The Cltllll siiomg,-.:s. and su;::u', or ﬂour pudding. I also get

left was completely abandoned by_its fatln-r'.~ friends, and became dept-ndcnt on its lllltltlll-tl

joiic pint ofoxccliciit milk. Then for my supper .Igct_ butter and lirctid; and so ifl don’t get

grandmotlier—a woman ot infanious character fit}, It's not for Want of good feeding and plenty Taking advantage of the interest excited b_v lier 01 It.

daughter, this woman made a loathsoine traflic by exhibiting her child; but curiosity soon died away-—tbe sooner. as the grandmother thought, that the girl inherited the swartliy countenance and beetling brows of her father. Nursed early and often with the terrible story of her parents. and tutored to assume a look of mclancIioly,, Agnese gradually acquired tltat low cunning withi which Nature arms the oppressed, passing from infancy to womanhood subject to the caprices ot the abandoned old woman who, even in her dotagc meditated crime.

A dee -lying love for her mother was the‘

poetry o Agnesc‘s lifc : wltattevcr was sweet or soft in her memories gutlicrcd round the image ofthcbeuutiful, suniptuously-npparcllcd dwelling in luxurious clinmbera, w :0 fondled and curesscd her; of those sunny. fur

did she remember the last time beriiiotlit-r's arms were folded about bcr-—wcll did she rciiicnibcr the linre dungeon walls, the dark- ness. the liloodshot eyes. the title, liiiggurtl checks, and the long, lingering kiss of the white trcmulous lips.

On her gradmotliefe deitth.shc was forced to seek the means of living, and accident placed her in the fitinily of Mrs Macdonuld, where she lillcd one of the lowest grades in the household. llei-c licr haughty silenco, while it made her uiipopttlar niiioiig the ser- vants, lint excited the interest ofillclon, who, in the loneliness of spirit engendered by the absence of conﬁdence bctwccn herself and ht?- mother, readily titrned her thoughts to the on - cast, and made it her eiirncst request, that the girl might be given to her as her special attcndnnt—it request which her mother, ever careless of her true interests, and blamabl lax where her discipline should have been the strictest, never thought of denying her. The kindness thus uncx ctedly shown to her, Agnese re id with b ind devotion. To Hole , in the dar twilight ofa winter night, she to the story of her arents, lingering with fond minutencas over as the details with which her memory was stored. It was a story Helen well loved to hear; she never pointed out the heinous sin, and how the lost evil was the fruit of the ﬁrst,—neither for herself nor for the poor orphan did she read this lesson.

Through Helen's courtship, Agnsse had watched, with jealous care, for the smallest

; order. The Duke tmd

W0lu'ln - _ . . “Ad [ then: put under arrest during the time of their

-; oiftimcs she had it vogue rccollcction, but well ‘ “’‘l-V “

EAST]-Ill SUNDAY AT JERUSALEM.

The usual lighting among the Latin and Greek pilgrims took lace at Jerusalem on Easter Sunday. and Tur ish soldiers have to be stationed within the H01 Sepulchre to preserve uchess do Brabant and several travellers who were at Jerusalem, re- ceivcd tho tiiost extraordinary privilege of visiting the Mosque ofOmar, the site of the Temple, which the Mahometans hold to be so siicrcd, that until this occasion all Christians were most ri-.-orously excluded from it. The Pasha of J--i-iisoleni, to protect the visitors frmii itiiiioyziiu-o, had all the guards of thc'I'em- pie and the .\l:iliomctnn devotees who resort visit. lino liiiuitic, howevr, cscttped from cus- nd .~i~,;nitit.-cl his disap robation of the szici-ilt-go by loud slirieks. ' he Mosque is a most gorgcoii.-a ediﬁce, built in the octa on form, coverc with colored tiles, and t. e dome boars marks of having been ilt. In the centre is a. large rock. which is re.‘ ed in, and consi- dcrcd vcry holy, and underneath there is s. chiimber where they show the tombs of Solo- iuon, Elias, and .-\bi-nliam. The number of Cliristiiins who went in was very large; they were all very orderly. and scented much im- prcssvd with tho l-olincss of the ground on which they t4[tt()(l.—LfflI‘I‘_/I‘imt Constantinople.

L‘li(il’h' IN IRt£I..\ND.

We iii-c glint to state that the crops in Ireland give e\‘L‘l'y llllllt“.l.ilull of prospcrity,iiltltou_gh thoro Iius lit-on it long coiititittiiiico of searching weather. iiccoiupiinicd by severe frosts at night. (lrass however, is expected to be defective If rain does not full soon. Oats and wheat are looking remarkable well ; and it larger quantity of potatoes has been got in than for some years

revious-—indecd it is considered that the isease has altogether vanished.

John B. Gongh, with bodily frame greatly weakened by too long continitod and too arduous exertion, is about to seek in the quiet of his own home that re-invigoration —bodily and mentally-—wliich can only be found in repose and recreation. The Scot- tisli Temperance League presented him with an unusually ﬂattering address at I

public meeting held in the City Hall, Glas-

sign of feithlessness in Sir Edward, resolved,