vet

I * shared his kindly haspitalities.

e.- .u

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w-

tile character of the king, occurred in Carlisle, in Pen- ” sylvania. He was thrown from his wagon, and, know-

- history,

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Wests-um wears.

.Lours Peri-.11pr IN AMERICA. (From the Surrounds Georgian.) ,

Reflections of the mast interesting character are suggested by the present visit to this country of. the Prince de Joinville,'third son of the King of the French. More than forty years have passed since his father was here, seeking ‘an asylum from the violence of his own countrymen. The life of LouisPhilippe illustrates the extremes of existence; extreme peuury and suffering; extreme wealth and grandeur. '

.Disguising himself as a Dane, he sailed, September

24, 1796, from Hamburg, in the ship America, Capt- ' Ewing, for Philadelphia; 'This Was the darkest period

ofhis life. His d' _ country—his abused mother '—his persecutedgf, ' iohis murdered father—were be-

hind him; an land—untried friends—desolate solitude and threatened indigence before him. Treated a by the captain as a runaway West India gambler, em- “ployed by a passenger as an interpreter, and tossed about

"PO" the sea of waters and the sea of troubles, he bore

up against all with a manliness that showed the firmness

ofhis mind and the energy of his nature. '

In October, he reached Philadelphia, and met in Fe- bruary by his two brothers, the Duke of MontpenSIer and Count Beaujolais, who had a tedious passage of ninety-three days in the Swedish ship Jupiter, from Mar- seilles, they took up their residence in the house ofthe Spanish consul, and mingled in the society of the city. At thezinvitation of Washington, then Preszdent. and

their ‘temporarily residing at Philadelphia, the seat of

Government, they visited him at Mount Vernon, and Learning their desire to travel west, Washington prepared for them an itine- rary, and furnished them with many letters of introduc- tion; Ind, adopting the customary mode oftrnvclling on horseback with saddlebags, they started on their jour- ney. »

They crossed the Alleghanies to Knoxville and Nash- ville. and then turned northward to Pittsburgh, thence up'to Erie and Buffalo, and thence to the falls of Nizi~ gara. From this place they came down through Canari- dalguas a region of country then almost uninhabited, and tqitli roads almost impassable. Embarking upon Seneca like, they journeyed on foot from its head to Tioga point, a distance of twenty‘five miles, each carrying his baggage on his’ back. and thence they descended the Susquehanna to Philadelphia. The following extract from a letter addressed to his sister, the Princess Ade- laide, will give some idea of their adventure ; it is dated— 4

“ PHILADELPHIA, August 23rd, 1797.

“I hope you have received the letter which we wrote you from Pittsburgh, two months since. We were then in the midst of a great journey, which we finished fifteen days ago. lt took us four months.—We travelled during that time a thousand leagues, and always upon the same horses, except the- last hundred leagues, which we per- fbrmed partly by water, partly on foot, partly upon hired horses, and partly in the stage, or public conveyance. We have seen many Indians, and we remained several days in their country. They received us with great kindness, and our national character contributed not a little to this good reception, for they love the French. After them we found the falls of Niagara, which I wrote you from Pittsburgh we were about to visit, the most iii- teresting object upon our journey. It is the most sur- prising uiid majestic spectacle I have ever seen. It is a hundred and thirty-seven (French) feet high; and the volume of water is immense, since it is, the whole river St. Lawrence which precipitates itself at this place.

I have taken a sketch ofit, and I intend' to paint-a gouache from it; which my dear little sister shall cer- tainly see at our tender mother’s; but it is not yet corn- menced, and it will take me much time, for truly it is no small work. To give you an idea ofthe agreeable manner in which they travel in this country, I will tell my dear sister, that we passed fourteen nights iii the woods devoured by all kinds of insects, after being wet to the bone, without being able to dry ourselves, and eat- ing pork and, sometimes a little salt beef and corn bread.”

The yellow fever broke out in Philadelphia on their return, and these Princes were so poor and reduced as to be unable to leave the city until a fortunate remit- tance fromthcir mother gave them the means of making an excursion to New York, Boston, and the Eastern States. Learning that their mother, by anew law of France, had been sent to Spain, the exiles hastened to rejoinrher, and as the surest, tliotigh not the most expe- ditious. way, travelled with a wagon and horses to the 0hio,’ihence by water to New Orleans, which journey the ' accomplished in a little over two months.

A litth incident, illustrative ofthe strong and versa-

ing that he required bleeding, he slowly crawled to the house ofa farmer, and requested assistance, opened a vein in his own arm and derived the benefit he expected. The good-people, supposing him some Eastern doctor, going to .‘s'ettle'West, urged him to remain in Carlisle, and promised ‘himan abundant practice. Arriving at avana, they were, soon after ordered to leave, and again. returned to New York, whence an English packet ‘ carried them to Falmouth, and they arrived in London in February, 1800. , , _. Saoh’is” he "gill outline ofthe American part of Louis} mac’s" istory. It was full ofincidents and vicissitudesgptirriug scenes, mutations of fortune, es- capes, perils, aud adventures. And now he is upon the throne of France, and his son is upon the ancient foot- steps ofhis' father. Since the visit of Louis Philippe, France has been revolutionized-y-Napoleon has arisen, sailed the rei ofempire, conducted his nation to the 'pinnacle‘ofglory, and fallen to rise no more: and con- vulsed, distracted, and war-blasted Europe has settled in peaceful repose. The poor stranger, who, for want of money, could not leave an American city filled with yellow fever, and who had to'teach for his support, is now the richest man in Europe, with millions and tens of millions at his disposal. The refugee, fleeing before the assumed power ofthe First Consul and the Emperor, now sits with a Bonaparte’srsplendor on his throne. This country once traversed in poverty, and peril, and weariness, by the persecuted sire, is now visited by his royal son, in princely character and glory; nay, more, that’"vcry son, and the very‘ship he commands, were commissioned to transport from their solitary resting place “18 remains of that colossal genius~of military power, and bring back to own loved France its idolized Napoleon. Such changes constitute the romance of . and assure us that; truth is often stranger than fiction. Could the on, as he journeyed in ourinidst, look back forty-four years With the eyes of his father, at the days of Washington, to the infancy of our institu- tions, before the first steamboat ploughed our waters, or the first railroad tracked our land—or could the father,

slandering you. Driven almost to m of fury, I struck him. My accumulated ofl‘e ed ofno extenuation,—I was dismissedvthe ignominy." Margaret was silent for a {2;

eyes upon our now teeming population, and behpld,_ in the then solitude: of the West, cities, states, territories, with millions of stirring, bustlingghabitants—could he, in the vicinity of Canandaigua,«-a‘”gaiii meet Lord Arbor- ton, who then so bitterly complained of the roads, that be doubted whether Niagara itself would compensate his toil-could he again visit the spot, then pnbuilt, un- planned, which now is the capital of our nation, and the seat of our government, he would believe himselfn t in America of 1795 and 1796, but in a new world, w ere every feature was strange, and every scene. _novel. 50 rapid is the march of improvement, that it is only by gutding ourselves by some such land-marks ofthought as these that we can sufficiently realize the receutness of our origin, orthe sublimity of our 'increase. We say sublimity, for the contrast we now present to our condi- tion seventy years back, is‘ one of the most sublime mn— nifestations of Government in the history of theworld. And yet we have but begun our career. We are still in the infancy of Political being. Long niayrwe realize, as we turn backward to the past, and look onward to

. the future, the beautiful prophecy of the poet:

“ This land is like an eagle, whose younggaze

Feeds on tho noon-tide beam; whose golden plume Floats moveless on the storm; and in the blaze Of’sunrise glenms, when earth is wrupt in gloom;

An epitaph ofglorv for the tomb

Of murdered Europe." .

THE SMUGGLER‘SWIFE. BY CAMILLQ, TOUL‘MIN. ‘

It was night, in fact midnight, and Dudley Raymond, choosingthe partial shade afforded by two or three large trees, had waited with anxious heart for more than an hour. Atlast the house door was gently opened, and as stealthin closed; alight figure tripped liaiselessly over the lawn, and in another minute Margaret Sey- mour was in his arms. They had been separated for three years,—-a long absence, chequered only by a very imperfect correspondence. Yet there was neither doubt nor distrustmi either side,and they met with mutual faith, as unshaken as iftlieir vows had beenpledged but yesterday. Many were the broken, passionate excla- iiiatious, which passed between them; and many the foolish honey words (which yet have their own wisdom) ere Margaret raised her head from her lover’s shoulder; and as Dudley gathered back the mass ofricli brown hair which had streamed over her face, he started and ex- claimed, “You have been ill, Margaret l-—You are priler,—thinner l” “I am older,” she replied, gravely. “Very aged ;——something more than one-aud-twenty; butI do not perceive either wrinkles or grey hairs yet.” And.Dudley was cheated of a smile, though his heart was too full for mirth. “I am serious,” she continued: “ grief hasa maturing hand; and _that isa foolish reckoning which measures ’time by the even flight of weeks, and inniiths, and years. You left e a mere girl,—neither very obedient nor v‘ery tractab e,I believe, but still with something of the pliability of youth. I might have been moulded to good or evil;but itistoo late now. Ihave had neither friend nor counsellor; my mind has been its own instructor, and I have grown into a resolute, determined woman. I wonder can you love me as well?” “You do not wonder.” “Yesl—listen to me; I have felt sometimes,——not often,—but I have felt that I could not always, in all things, bend even to you.” “I will not ask it.” “Perhaps not. But indéed I am altered; you will judge how much, when I tell you the mannerin which I have passed my time since my father’s death. Abhorring my step-mother, and feeling certain it was through her influence he left rne depend- enton her will, I have, though dwelling under the same roof, shunned her presence. its much as possible, I have absolutely’refused to visit with her, and rarely have I mixed with visitors at home. My poor father’s study has been tacitly given up to me, for no one else cared to enter it; and there haveI passed the greater portion of my time. From your recollection of his favourite pur- suits, you may judge that my studies liave not been those precisely common to young ladies. Astronomy, astroJ logy,—do not laugh Dudley, I am superstitious,-——that is one ofthe changes in myself which I acknowledge,— and chemistry. From the last 1 have won, what I once felt to be atreasure, for it gave me power over my own destiny at a time when I felt life to be almost insup- portable. Seel I have worn it- ever since attached to the chain ofyour hair?” and she drew forth a litfle golden box, which had formerly contained aromatic vinegar, but was now applied to a very different purpose; the in- ncr compartmenthad been entirely removed, and in its place, embedded in soft cotton, lay a globule, contain- ing a few drops of some transparent fluid. Dudley seemed scarcely to understand her, but as She closed the box, Margaret whispered, “Broken in the inoutb, it would destroy life in a few seconds.” Dudley snatched it from her, and hurled it towards the river. “Why'did you do so?”—she exclaimed. “ But it matters not, I shall not want it now. I would have swallowed it at the altar, had they forced me there, rather than have been his. She first tried to bribe, and then threatened me; for the alliance would have strengthened the ambitious hopes shecntertains for her brainless brat,-—-and I be- lieve my hand was to have been the price of his influ- ‘enee. But you tremble, Dudley!” “Margaret! in your letters, you never told me all this!” “Why should I have distressed you 'l—but listennow, for there is no pain to either of us in talking of Lord Lovel while your arms are round me. At first, Iappealed to his gene- rosity. I told him thatI loved”---“The son of the ruined merchant?” "Yes; Itold him no power on earth should induce me to wed another. But he only smiled,—his bit- ter smile ;——and said he would wait till I had out- grown my girlish fancy. Soon afterwards he began cau- tiously and artfully to traduce you to me;_butlsaw through his design in a moment, and told him our mutual confidence was too secure to beshaken by evil report. And as my last resource, I tried to make him understand how completelyI scorned and loathed him;—he turned

room, threatening vengeance i'n termsI could not cle comprehend,—in less than a week, I heard he had England.” “And he has kept his vow. you have much to learn, beforel ask you to share the fortunes ofa desperate man. Do not start when I tell you I am no longer in the navy. I am dismissed—dis- graced ;—-and it is Lord Lovel who has worked my ruin l You know that he is high in the service, and a few months since, he contrived that I should be appointed to a ship he commmanded. I knew him, Mafgaret as your rejected lover, -—-butI knew him not till afterwa‘r‘ds as a disgrace to the name of British peer, or British sailor. Cannot you guess the rest? ‘How he first guided me on by petty insults, then entrapped me into aseemin neglect ofduty, and finally played the double traitor b? adness, iii a mdment

noes admitt- service with

arl y left Margaret,

calling up the scenes he once saw, gaze, with the son’s

but then she spoke with firmness.

w moments,

“ I should have

I ‘ —bnt as at last he stepped into his boat, Margaret pro-

pale with anger, but yet he smileil,»——and though he left the I

' "-but’I e world's high report , and rejoice that. we- need parate‘d." He did

gloried in your fame, and th, will- be only the}Womand»nowv,vidély 8e ta ain beso on an so ggt aEswer; btit as ghe drew her yet. nearer, andhéoglézg down into those large, lustrous, tearless eypsikh of wo. in one long and aflmeSt fiiafieloiiie priii‘iiaveti'l undefined man’s untiring an nose 5 _ . _ h. Che; - ' ' lans Diidle inight prevmusly ave- ifslhdsciljfgrfefethat modieub banished for ever, he broke the silence by exclaiming, “ We. canpohflfll‘aéd And .then he asked her if ethic" wopidnihay‘e pg: won“ is race, and ‘pOSSl e--p0' ; ,-

feaarfd kindgi'ed and friends, “.home, luxury, and sta'itpligl’ll And she ansWered—as women always answer. hiCh he whispered a fewmore words in her ear, lat vyin a she started; and after a while he asked her, arinps And tone ofdissuasion, if she would yet be his wi e a“, she answered—as women, wrth unsettled princip es, the ways answer! Meanwhile the tide had risen, gang had boat in which Dudley had rowed himself thit. erl m t drifted to within a few feet ;-—it seemed like a Signal” “:1

they must separate. Indeed, they had linger-ed (1.1. e grey of early morning warned them ofthe flight 0 time,

mised that‘the next time it glided beneath the dripping branches of the willows, it should bear her away for ever. She watched the first few strokes of the oar, but, as she turned from the water’s edge, she was attracted by some; thing glittering at her feet. 'In a moment she recognize:i the little box Dudley had snatched from her hand, an , as she raised, and once more fastened it to the chain at her neck, she murmured—“It is an omen; but I have decided.”——-2. Greyford is an inconsiderable town on the coast of Hampshire, and a few years ago the currosgty'of theiuquisitive portion of its iiibabitaijtsma large majority —ewas strongly excited touching the parentage, former life, and present vocation ofa couple—the dwellers iii ,a certain cottage, which had long been tenantless, and which was situated very near the seashore, and about a quarter ofa mile beyond their last new_ terrace. The lady was young, and without been strictly handsome, every one acknowledged~notwithstanding her extreme simplicity, almost homeliness of attire—-thnt her appear» euce was prepossessing and distinguished._ Her hus- band was a fine looking man, seemingly not more than a year or two older than herself, and unquestionably with the department of'a gentleman. Ofcourse, as they paid rent and taxes with laudable punctuality, and dis- charged debts on delivery oftheir purchases, they were voted—respectableyas they evidently declined all. vistt- ing, they were declared proud; and as they did not attempt to advertise any nocount of themselves, they were called mysterious. The last circumstance was most defective policy, and a proof that they had never before dwelt iii or near a small country town. The apotbecary’s wife had adventured a call—probably she would not have done so, had not a new practitioner just started, and the report of her‘reception, and the interior of their dwelling, only sharpened curiosity. The room into which she was ushered, though small, was fitted up in a style somewhat between a gentleman’s study and a lady’s boudoir. Well stored book shelves extended on one side from floor to ceiling; while, on the other, a

Various articles oftaste and luxury were scattered about. and a fine Newfoundland dog was stretched at full length on the hearthiug. Mr. and Mrs. Rawlins—r—so they were called—had evidently just finished luncheon, or an early dinner, and on the table were two or three sorts ofFrench wines, and several kinds of very rare foreign and dried fruits. Although the lady had. keen courteously received, her visit was never returned, nor did it lead to any further intiriiacy. Months passed on, and the towns-people’s curiOSity remained ungratified. Though not extinct, it became for a little while dormant, as an elopenient, astage-coach accident,and two rob-r beries, had lately afforded abundant matter of interest and speculation—3. The scene is again the interior of the cottage. It was a winter’s night; thick curtains ex- cluded the cold wind, but the roaring of the sea was perfectly audible. Margaret and her husband had dyawn near a bright fire: and she sat on a low ottoman almost at his feet; one hand was clasped in her’s,.while the other rested carelessly on her shoulder. They were alone in their dwelling, for their only domestic had never been permitted to sleep under that roof. “It is a dreadful night!” said Margaret, but without raising her eys. “Yet I have braved much worse,” replied Dudley ; “ and besides, the wind may lull when the tide turns. It yet wants three hours to midnight. What! weepingI-«tremblinglom dearest, this unmans rue!" “ I have a presentiment of evil, which I cannot shake off.” “ Foolish girl!” “ Listen to me, Dudley is With- in the last hour, by a spontaneous effortof memory, the whole of my past life has passed in rapid review before me, more vividly, more distinctly, than 'my will could have commanded. A strange and momentrv flash, re- vealed to me, by, I believe, a supernatural power-—the future. Into that moment was condensed a life’s share of agony and strife; and then came a white blank, like eternity to the mind’s conception. Stay !--—I know you will tell me it is only a ‘fevered imagination; but ifso, will you not bear with me 'l’-’ “ I would rather reason «With you.” “ I must—J will tell you. Dudley, I have seen Lord Lovel to-day l” Dudley started; and an ex- clamation of horror escaped him. \“ Margaret l” he cried,“ did he see---did he recognise you 1’” "‘ Yes, and appeared not in the 'least surprised at- the meeting. Itwas in a narrow street, and he took 03‘ his hat, stood still,and_ remained uncovered while I passed. I looked not in his countenance to see if his withering smile was there or not.” “This is dreadful news. If he, of all men, have the clue, the worst will happen. The cellars are, at this moment, full of contraband goods, and a valu- able. cargo is to be landed to-night.” “ I know it and the Weak fit has passed : I am again the smuggler’s’wife.

must get out the night-glass, and load your pistols: and their I will show you the miniature of my dear husband Which I finished this morning,-.--and then we will play ti game at chessr;---or shall I sing to you ’I”

A few minutes beforemiduight, the smuggler left his cottage, to meet his companions on the beach. Mar- garet unfastened and refastened the door with a tolera- bly, steady hand, but as she turned-back to the cheer- ful fire-side to keep her solitary watch, again she burst into tears. To know, might be a profitable lesson — but who can tell the thoughts which rushed throuoh ihe‘ chaos of her mind, the mind of one destitute of religious principlesaand yet not altogether an unbeliever —durina the followmg hour? At the expiration of that time 2 low tap. was heard at, the door, and Margaret obedient to the Signal, hastened to admit her husband: He en- tered, followed by two others, all heavily laden' biit when the door was nearly closed, it was flung back vio- lently, and an officer belonging to the preventive service,