BY THE RIVER.

I STOOD upon the margin of a stream,
Watching the sunlight shadows dance and gleam
Upon its placid breast,

So calm in its sweet rest.

threw a pebble half-way from the shore,
And saw its ruffled surface calm no more;
But tiny wavelets from the centre went,
And eddying circles with the shadows blent;
And such, said I, is life:
Sometimes all free from strife,
The heart reposes, careless, happy, calm,
Till some light trifle fills it with alarm,
A pebble in the stream.

A hazy cloud swept o'er the azure sky,
The stream grew dark as it passed swiftly by
I saw the shadows there,

'Twas dark where once 'twas fair.

A little breeze came with the darkening cloud,
The willows on the bank before it bowed,
The troubled waters rippled 'gainst the shore,
And plaintive sighed-" We are at rest no more."
How much, said I, is this,

Like life's strange, fitful bliss:

A little cloud, a breeze, sweep o'er our sky,
And all our hopes and joys grow dark and die;
A shadow on the stream.

THE rain fell heavily against the window panes. The night was not only dark and gloomy, but a thick, black vapor seemed actually to penetrate into the interior of the mansion, the inhabitants of which were now locked in profound slumber. Not a single light appeared throughout the whole city of Brest, save in the windows of a large, square, dismal-looking building which stood on the left bank of the port. This edifice is the Dagne, or fatal prison, in which the captives, doomed to perpetual labor, are left to waste their useless sighs, or vent their idle execrations.

as an hospital, a young man, in the undress uniform of a surgeon in the French navy, sat reading. He seemed so absorbed in his studies that he took no notice of the pattering rain, or the fast decay of the lamp, which dimly lighted the book before him. On a sudden he started up and carrying on the thread of an argument he had apparently been following, he exclaimed aloud, "True, true; the poor do but live, they do but exist, drag on a few miserable years, and then sink unheeded into a miserable grave. Riches alone can bring pleasure, and make each hour we live an age of enjoyment. Dire is the lot of him uablessed by fortune! At twenty-seven years of age, here am I, doomed to a life of poverty, destined to pass my days in this miserable hospital! The author is right!"

And again De Launay plunged into his studies.

His task, however, was soon broken in upon by the entrance of one of the infirmary men, who came in to inform him that "Number Seven had just breathed his last."

Without the slightest emotion, save a shade of annoyance, which instantly stole over his countenance at this interruption, the young surgeon rose, and approached the double row of iron beds, each bearing the number of its tenant; for in the infirmary of the Bagne no prisoner bears a name. A single cipher stands for the appellative the convict has disgraced.

De Launay stopped when he came to "Number Seven." He drew down the sheet, which had been thrown over the face of the corpse, and gaz d at it with deep interest. He placed his band upon the head and contemplated the form before him for some instants; then, as if struck with a sudden desire to ascertain some anatomical point, he ordered the body to be instantly carried into the dissecting hall.

The wretched remains were those of one whose phrenological developments might have proved a study of deep interest. Condemned to hard labor for life, for robbery, and attempt to murder, Pierre Cranon had now been an inmate of the prison for upwards of ten years-ten years of continual study how to escape. No less than six'y times had the unhappy man endeavored to get away; and sixty times had he been detected and punished. For several months previous to his last laess had Cranon been bound to his labor by chains weighing some thirty pounds; every vigilance had been exercised by his In on upper room of that portion of this establishment used guards to prevent the possibility of his flight; and yet the idea

VOL. XVII., No. 5- 19

of escape haunted his imagination, and became a never-dying, | enough to believe them, and come instantly back to the guardnever-yielding monomania. The pain, however, of his increased house ;" and De Launay tried to look careless, though his ears fetters at length brought on a sullen despair. His strict con- had drunk in each syllable the prisoner had uttered. finement within the walls undermined his health, and wore out the last remnant of his miserable days. He pined-he sickened -and withering, sank.

The attendants re-entered with a bier, on which they placed the body, and carried it into the dissecting-room. The anatomical hall of the Bagne, but rarely used, was still more horrible in its appearance than such places usually are. Strewed about lay several human limbs, thrown carelessly aside, half-eaten by the rats. Several shreds of human flesh, already putrid, clung to the large marble table used for dissecting, while the foot occasionally slipped as it glided through some filthy pool of half-coagulated blood. Near an open window hung a skeleton, which had already lost some of its parts, and which moved up and down, creaking and almost cracking as the breeze swung it about.

Although accustomed to such scenes, De Launay felt a chill steal through his frame, a nervous sensation hitherto unknown to him, but now brought on by the dreary damp of the horrid amphitheatre, whose terrors seemed to dance in grim array, as the flaming light kept waving in the breeze. The young surgeon quickly produced his instruments, and approached the corpse. The dreadfully attenuated frame, the lacerated ankles, where the iron had actually eaten into the flesh, all lay displaced before him, and he paused for a moment.

De Launay, seizing the dissecting-knife, was about to plunge it into the body, when a slight movement of the arm made him start back; in another instant Cranon opened his eyes, and slowly raising himself, peered anxiously around.

The young surgeon stood aghast.

Profiting by this, the prisoner quietly but quickly started up and rushed towards the window. In a moment De Launay saw the artifice; he darted on the unfortunate wretch, and attempted to throw him down. The love of life, the hope of liberty for a moment lent their whole force to the miserable captive. A deadly struggle took place, in which youth and vigor gained the mastery, and Cranon lay at the mercy of De Launay, who placed his knee upon his chest.

"Your attempts are useless; you are in my power. A single call will bring the guard. Say, then, what means this fresh, this mad attempt at escape.

"For the love of heaven, let me go! Surely my escape cannot hurt you, and the Almighty will reward you for the good deed. Nay, do not spurn the prayers of a miserable old man." "What! do you suppose that I'll connive at such a thing?" "Just Providence! think what I've suffered! ten long years of misery, and now two months of cherished hope thus crushed in a moment. I, who for three days refused all food, in order to become ill, and be admitted into the infirmary-I, who connterfeited death so well that even you were deceived! But no, no; you will not detain me. Good Monsieur de Launay, you have a heart. Oh, give me, then, my freeedom." "Why are you so desirous of obtaining it?''

"Why? Ah! you have never been a prisoner, a prisoner for life, or you would never ask why I desire liberty!"

"Why will you not believe me?" despairingly asked the captive. "On my soul I lie not. How can I prove the truth of my assertion ?"

"Show me your treasure."

"I have it not here. You know well I cannot have it in my possession. Let me go, and I swear you shall have your share of it."

"Thank you! thank you for nothing! I will instantly sign the receipt in full. So up, and in again!-up!" and he shook the wretched man.

Cranon groaned heavily. He pondered for a moment, and then suddenly exclaimed, in a tone which left no doubt on the mind of the young surgeon that he was speaking the truth, "Listen to me; so help me Providence, I possess the money I speak of. It is no fancy, no well-invented lie; I have a fortuue enough to make us both rich. Now, say, if I prove this to be the fact, and consent to give you half, will you allow me to escape

"We'll see; go on."

"Not so, till you promise."

"Well, I suppose I may do so safely."
"Swear that you will."

"I swear."

Well, then, on the beach of St. Michael's, just behind the rock of Irglas, in a pit six feet deep, ten years ago I hid an iron case, containing 400,000 francs in bank notes."

De Launay started. "Where did you get that sum ?''
"From a traveler we assassinated near the spot."
"Wretch !"

"Four hundred thousand francs," repeated the convict, with a voice of triumph, "is enough I hope for two-enough to make us both happy. Say, will you have half!''

The young surgeon paused, then added in a tone of doubt, "The tale seems scarcely credible. You have been a prisoner here for upwards of ten years."

"Right; it is fully that time since Martin and I, being closely pursued, buried the treasure in the spot I have told you of. The very day after we were seized at Plestin, and brought here. Martin died within these walls last year, and left me the sole possessor of this important secret."

Notwithstanding all his endeavors to appear indifferent, De Launay had listened with deep attention to Cranon's recital. When he had ceased to speak, the young man remained perfectly silent for some time, seeming to balance in his own mind the probability of the story he had just heard. Casting his eyes up for a single moment, he found those of the prisoner fixed on him. He blushed, aud starting from his reverie, said, with an air of forced levity, which his former attention too fully belied, "Your story is well invented, but the theme is old. It won't do. These hidden treasures are a hackneyed subject, which even children laugh at now. Try and get up a better-a more probable one."

The convict shuddered. "You do not believe me?''
"I believe you to be a clever rogue, who might, perhaps,

"But how would you gain a livelihood? You are too old, succeed in deceiving one less wary than myself." too weak to work. You would starve."

The captive smiled; an almost disdainful sneer of triumph curled his lip, as he replied, "I am richer than yourself." "You ?"

"Most true."

"You are indeed, then, fortunate." This was said with a degree of bitter irony, which, while it conveyed a doubt of the truth of the assertion, told plainly how highly the young surgeon estimated the gifts of fortune.

"Would you also be rich? I have enough for us both." "Do you take me for a fool, that you thus endeavor to leceive me?"

"I tell you I can make your fortune."

"Some robbery in which you would have me join ?”

"No, not so; assist my fligh', and I will place the money in your hands. I will give you half of all I have got." "Silence; keep your falsehoods for those who are credulous

Cranon threw himself on his knees. 64 Monsieur de Launay, for the love of heaven, believe me! I speak the truth; I can instantly find the spot, if you will only let me go and search for it."

"Nay, I will also add the jewels-the trinkets; for there are also valuable jewels in the case."

"Silence! I have listened too long; get up, sir.” Canon uttered a wild scream of despair, and threw himself on the ground again. The convict now rolled himself over in agonizing misery; he groaned in mental torture. De Launay seemed perplexed; an inward struggle agitated his bosom. Bad passions began to spring up and shake his purpose. On the one hand, his violent desire for riches made him almost hope the tale he had just heard were true, and in this

case he would not hesitate to accept the prisoner's proposals;, seat next to her fair daughter; but taking his place at some on the other hand, he feared he might be duped, and become a laughing-stock-despised, disgraced-for thus conniving at the escape of a convict.

This last reflection overcame his every other feeling. He started up, and attempted, but without success, to drag Cranon towards the entrance. Foiled in this, he darted through the door, which he double-locked upon the prisoner, and rushing to the guard-house, obtained the assistance of a file of soldiers.

As he was unlocking the door, in company with the assistants he had brought, a sudden shot was fired; at the same moment a man stripped perfectly naked, covered with blood, bounded past him. It was Cranon, who during his momentary absence had jumped out of the window, and been wounded by the sentinel on duty.

distance from the rest of the company, he turned silently away, without deigning to cast another look on the fair Madame Perschof, and thus offended the worthy mamma. who, with some little acerbity, asked, "How it was that Monsieur de Launay was not on duty, keeping guard over the lovely Fanny Morpeth ?"

"Miss Morpeth does not go out to-day; she is far from well."

"Indeed! I think you are wrong. I am almost sure I saw her pass some hours ago."

"I learnt this from Miss Morpeth herself, in answer to a solicitation on my part to accompany her on an excursion we bad planned last evening."

"Is it so? Then you are not the favored one I thought you.

The unhappy man staggered a few paces, reeled, and fell a Behold!" corpse into the arms of De Launay.

Badenwiller, an inconsiderable watering-place in the neighborhood of the Black Forest, is one of the moss picturesque spots on the continent of Europe. Nature seems here to have taken a strange delight in amassing 1er richest charms, and concentrating her every beauty within a single valley. As its name indicates, Baden willer boasts mineral baths, famed from the earliest ages.

And, with a glance of triumph, Madame Perschof pointed te Miss Morpeth, who just then entered the grove mounted on a donkey. She had evidently returned from a long country ramble. Mr. Burns accompanied her on foot.

De Launay started up, while his countenance betrayed curprise and mortification. Miss Morpeth blushed, and hurrying past, entered the hotel without speaking to any one. Mr. Burns was following her, when, De Launay seizing him by the arm, begged for a few minutes' private conversation. The Englishman instantly assented; and they at once sought the retirement of the neighboring wood. Suddenly De Launay stopped.

You doubtless know my reason for thus seeking a private interview ?''

"Perhaps I do."

The bathers who lodged at the "Ville de Carlsruhe," the best hotel in the place, were assembled beneath a little grove of acacias planted in the garden of the inn. Madame Perschof, with her only unmarried daughter, had just joined the group, from which the young bachelors shrunk with terror at the approach of this regular husband-hunting dame, who, having managed to procure partners for her three elder damsels elsewhere, had come hither for the purpose of entraping another son-in-law. After a short salutation to each of the company, the match-making parent sat down, and having made her spinster child take a place next to her-for caution is always commendable in prudent mammas at strange watering-places-consequences, ere she enters into an engagement to marry a the conversation, which had been interrupted for a moment by perfect stranger." her arrival, again went on.

"I must confess," said a fat old lady, who occupied three chairs, "I must confess that the conduct of this Miss Morpeth is most strange. 1 cannot make out her coming here with a sort of a governess, traveling about unprotected in a strange country."

"Oh, that is nothing," interrupted a pseudo blue-stocking lady. "I know the customs of these islanders well, for my husband subscribes to the British reading-room at Frankfort; and I can assure you that English young ladies always travel alone, or with their lovers."

How very immoral!" exclaimed Madame Perschof. "And this Englishman - this Mr. Burns-who follows the young lady about to every place she visits? It is all very well for her to call him an old friend of the family; but I know better than that. I've watched his attentions, and I am sure he is a lover."

"But he is old enough to be her father."

"So much the more likely to be a gallant. She is just the girl an elderly man would admire. I will be bound to say Mr. Burns is rich."

How very borrible!" cried Madame Perschof. "I am but a poor lone widow; but if I had a child like Miss Morpeth-" "Yes, but you don't understand the character of these English," again chimed in the blue-stocking England is a free country; they have their habeas corpus, and their hustings, which decidedly affect their manners.'

"That is all very possible, though I don't understand it. But this I do know-the girl is a coquette, and has managed to turn Monsieur de Launay's head--a young man who might aspire to a far more beautiful and a complished creature." And Madame Perschof looked approvingly at her buckram daughter. "Hush!" cried the fat lady; "here he comes."

As she spoke, Edward de Launay approached. Apparently preoccupied by unpleasant reflections, he allowed the gesture of Madame Perscho. to pass unheeded, although that gesture convyed a direct invitation to the favored gentleman to take a

"You cannot be ignorant that I love-adore Miss Morpeth; that, to a certain extent, our affection is mutual—at least, so I had every reason to believe, till you arrived here. Since that period her manner has changed-she is no longer the same." "Surely a lady has a right to consider well, and weigh the

"I scarcely understand you, nor your right to inquire; but if you seek the information, you shall have it. I am not ashamed of telling you who and what I am." "I am all attention."

"I am a member of one of the oldest families in Britain. My father, who commanded a frigate, died at Brest. Left an orphan at fifteen years of age, I became a surgeon in the French navy, a service I only quitted a year and a half ago. As to my fortune "—and here his voice trembled as he added-“I possess four hundred thousand francs, of which I can give posi tive proof."

"All these assertions would doubtless be of great interest, and have their proper weight with the young lady. As far as I am concerned, mere statement is not sufficient."

"Sir, this language-these doubts-are insulting!"
"Rather call it prudence."

"By what right do you thus dare either to question or disbelieve me; you are a stranger to me yourself; I know not who you are,"

"A friend, warmly interested in the young lady's welfarenothing more."

In my turn, may I not re-echo your doubts?-may not declare such an explanation to be wholly unsatisfactory?"

Sir, you will remember that I never sought this interview. You chose to make me your confidant; it was a post I did not seek. I have told you all I intend to tell you. If this does not suit you, I wish you a good morning."

At this moment Miss Morpeth appeared.

"I come, my dear, I come," said the Englishman; and he instantly joined Fanny, leaving De Launay to his further reflections; whether Miss Morpeth was a heartless coquette who had played with his affections? By what tie she was bound to the laconic Englishman! Had the young surgeon's vanity misconstrued her good Lalure, and magnified her simple civilities into encouragement? Was the whole a dream? or was she really attached to him? For the life of him, De Launay could not decide in his own mind.

When De Launay saw Miss Morpeth in the evening, he assumed all the coldness, the distance of an injured lover. He even attempted to conceal his jealousy by appearing to flirt with Mademoiselle Perschof, to the no small delight of her proud mamma, who occasionally came to the relief of her blushing daughter by a chance allusion to her uncle the burgomaster, a hint about family portraits, and a mere glance at her child's great accomplishments.

Fanny Morpeth looked grave, but not angry Day after day rolled past; her melancholy seemed to increase, an anxious excitement lighted her countenance, and on more than one Occasion De Launay saw her rush with peevish impatience to meet the man who was employed to bring the letters to the hotel. At length the wished-for epistle reached her bands. Pale as marble, she received one morning a packet bearing the postmark "Brest," and with trembling haste she flew to Mr. Burns, to whom it was directed, as if her whole existence depended on the contents of that missive.

De Launay saw this, and again his jealous fears were roused. In misery and anger he rushed from the house, and entering the well-shrubberied garden, threw himself on one of the benches, where, unseen by any one, he might mentally review his misfortunes, jealous lest some prying eye should read his thoughts, and discover the pain he felt at being thus slighted, cast off, in favor of another.

Here he had not sat long, when a fairy hand was placed on his shoulder, aud the well-known tones of his loved Fanny was heard to utter his name. He started up; it was no vision.

wondered at that, in less than ten minutes, the said letter, Mr. Burns, Mademoiselle Perschof, and the whole world were forgotten.

To their great surprise, the bell sounded, and summoned them to their evening repast ere they seemed to have conversed five minutes.

"And must we part, dearest Fanny ?-so soon, too. Promise to see me here again at the same hour to-morrow." The happy "Till then, sometimes think of and now lively girl assented. But stay-a happy idea-bear some token that will remind you of me in my absence."

me.

"That is unnecessary, Edward."

And he took "Nay, nay, not so; it will please me here." a small casket from his pocket. "The cameo has long been in our family; accept it as a token that my parent now looks down from heaven upon our love."

And he fastened a rich ornament in her scarf. In truth, we must confess that he imprinted a chaste kiss on the fair cheek of her he adored, as he entered with her into the saloon in which the evening meal was served.

The greater number of persons were assembled together in a little knot, talking of some discoveries lately made in Africa; while the female portion were expressing their terror at the dangers which every man must incur who travels through an uncivilized country. This little coterie Edward instantly joined, and was soon mixed up in their conversasion; while Miss Morpeth approached Mr. Barns, who sat at the opposite end of the room, apparently in a deep reverie.

As Fanny drew near to him, he rose, and advanced to meet her. Scarcely, however, had he taken a single pace towards her, than, starting back with a look of horror, point

There stood the girl he loved, smiling on him with pure affection; then before him was the rapturous gaze of her, who, while she offered him one of her lovely hands as a token of restored affection, held up to his view with tantalizing archness,ing, at the same time, to the brooch she had just received, he

the very letter which had caused him so much uneasiness.

They exchanged a single sentence, and were again the fondest, the most affectionate of lovers. A few more words, aud, without alluding to its contents, Miss Morpeth handed him the letter, which he eagerly read.

"To MR. BURNS, Sir,-I have, as directed, made every inquiry relative to the person you mention. He is the only fon of the late Captain De Launay, who died in this city in 1 20. His Christian name is Edward. He became a naval surgeonappointed five years ago as assistant in the Bagne-quitted on the 8th of April, last year, having, it is said, inherited a large fortune from a distant relation-name unknown. Bears a good character, and said to be skillful. Description copied from the post-office, as per margin. Your obedient and humble servants,

"ROCHFORT & Co."

'Ay, but too well do I know that he is your lover." "On my soul, not so."

said, "Where did you get that ornament?"

The poor girl blushed. She had unconsciously betrayed her secret.

"Where did you get that brooch ?'' repeated Mr. Burns, in a tone of extreme agitation; " where did you purchase it?" "It was a present." "From whom?" Fanny was silent.

"Doubtlessly from Monsieur de Launay? Ah, it is so, is it? Then are my worst fears confirmed." I do not understand you." "Allow me to look at it."

She handed it to him; he examined it carefully, turned it over several times, then touching a spring at the back the setting flew open, and discovered some hair placed inside it.

"I thought I could not be deceived; ani yet his age almost staggers me. Tell me, Miss Morpeth, did Monsieur de Lausay state where he had obtained this trinket?"

"It is a family jewel; his mother left it to him."
"He told you so-you are quite sure?"
"Most perfectly so."

For a few moments the Englishman was plunged in thought; then suddenly recovering himself, he approached the group of talkers, who were still speaking of the dangers which surrounded those who ventured into savage lands. He abruptly chimed in.

"Risk of life is not confined to the distant voyager; I bave experienced this myself in Europe."

"In England, perhaps?" replied De Launay, somewhat dis

"Tell me, then, tell me, I conjure you, how is it that he is pleased at being interrupted. thus mixed up in your wellfare?"

"Nay, I beseech you, inquire not. After to-morrow I pledge myself to clear up this mystery. Suffice it to say at present, he is a relative, a near and dear relative, whose name must remain Concealed for a few days, till the fate of an officer he has wounded be ascertained. Wait but a little, dearest Edward, and there shall be no concealment between us."

The term, "dearest Edward," at once softened the young Frenchman. The half explanation, the assurance that Mr. Burns was a relative, pleased him; and though he thought it dignified to keep up a small degree of apparent rancor about the letter, the contents of which, after all, were not disagreeable, De Launay felt perfectly happy. It is not, therefore, to be

"You are wrong, sir; it was in France, that country so proud of its high state of civilization, I was nearly assassinated twelve years ago."

"Indeed! How did it happen ?"

The chairs of the ladies were drawn close round the narrator. "Mine is a very simple, straightforward tale, though it is one I never can forget, or cease to feel, since it has had an effect both upon my health and fortune. Having disembarked at Brest, where we had put in from stress of weather, I determined on proceeding through Brittany on to Paris by post. I was quite alone, and carried a pocket-boook containing 400,000 france in bank-bills. In the course of our journey we had to cross the sands of St. Michael."