"You are going to surprise us with a picture, then?" said the count, taking her by the hand. "No," replied she with a sudden energy; "a falsehood shall not even once escape the lips of your daughter-I am not painting." "What are you doing, then? I trust you are engaged in no improper intimacy?" "Not improper, I should think," she replied. "Explain," cried the father; "tell me all." Ginevra, thus importuned, explained how she had become acquainted with M. Louis, and the interest which he had excited in her bosom. which his words belied. Two young beings by so unusual a spectacle, eagerly demanded the brought together in a situation so affecting, cause. His question only redoubled her concould scarcely fail to be united by a reciprocal fusion. sentiment. Ginevra, thus called upon to act as the guardian and protectress of a brave soldier, suffering in a cause she had been taught to believe as holy and patriotic, felt all the enthusiastic generosity natural to her sex, arise in favor of the oppressed and wounded hero. He, on the contrary, beheld in her something more than human, when benevolence and commiseration were joined to a grace so bewitching and a beauty in itself so attractive. The scene itself was calculated to impress a tender feeling indelibly upon the mind. The softened light, the romance of the incident, the danger to all con- No declaration could afflict more vehemently cerned every thing conspired to produce those the feelings of the old Corsican. He regarded sensations which, seeming to spring only from his daughter's affections as peculiarly his own, a feeling mind, yet link hearts together. Gine- as due exclusively to himself and her mother. vra, yet unconscious how deeply the emotion The idea of another person participating in her had sunk in her breast, offered her father's purse love, he entertained with abhorrence. Those and influence in aid and protection of the soldier childish caresses which he now bestowed upon M. Servin, more prudent, begged her to pre-her in his doting fondness he must see indulged serve for some short time the secret even from in by another. His daughter seemed to forsake her father, lest he might be in any way compro-him in his old age and in his desolation—to cast mised with the government, assuring her that the fugitive was quite safe in his present hidingplace. The officer himself joined in this request; and as there was something delicious in the reflection, that she alone was thought worthy of being intrusted with the fate of a warrior of Na-happiness was at stake It was in vain-he poleon, she consented to abstain from any attempts to alleviate his present misfortune further than to beguile the tediousness of his confinement by her prolonged presence in the saloon. From that day, Ginevra passed hours in the work-room when all were gone, and he only present who had become to her an object of so intense an interest. She held the brush in her hand, but it seldom touched the easel, while Louis sat by her side, speaking with a fervid eloquence from his eyes. Their conversation was short and broken, for with lovers a monosyllable expresses more than the labored paragraphs of oratory. Sometimes she sung, in a subdued tone, a plaintive air of Italy; and she was delighted to find that Louis was perfect master of the soft dialect which was her own native tongue. From such means, which seem to derive force from their simplicity, is affection most firmly strengthened, until it becomes a passion to which life itself is subordinate. That the conduct of Ginevra in thus submitting to what must strictly be considered a clandestine intimacy, was improper and inexcusable, must certainly be allowed, and the result furnishes the strongest moral which could be drawn from behavior so inconsiderate. him aside as if she loathed him. Such was the selfish conclusion to which the suspicious mind of Piombo led him. He at once forbade Ginevra to think more of her young admirer. She besought and entreated him to consider that her would hear nothing, but declared imperatively she should never marry in his lifetime. So emphatic a denunciation aroused the downcast spirit of his own descendant. "But I will marry," said she with a fierceness equal to his own; "your sentence is inhuman.” The determination of Ginevra thus expressed seemed to awe and confound the old count. He resumed his seat without saying a word. His wife now interposed, and took the part of the daughter. Ginevra cast herself at her father's feet. "I will still love you and live with you, my dear father," she cried; "I will never forsake you!" "Bartholomeo was at last moved. When he learned that the young man was a captain of the Imperial Guard, that he had fought at Waterloo, and, though wounded, had been among the last to leave that fatal field, he consented to interest himself in his behalf, and to receive him into his own house. A high official personage had been indebted to the Count di Piombo during the Imperial rule for an important favor, and through his influence he now procured the pardon of M. Louis. He was even placed on the roll of officers available for service. Ginevra flew with undissemThe lengthened visits of Ginevra to M. Servin's bled rapture to convey this gratifying account to now began to attract the notice of the old count her lover Having laid aside his uniform for a and his wife, who so idolized her that her short-suit of plain clothes, he accompanied her to her est absence was regarded with impatience They therefore expressed their surprise that she should devote so much time to painting when it caused them unhappiness. To such an appeal, Ginevra could reply only with tears. Her father, excited father's house. She led him up the stairs, trembling with anxiety lest the old count should not like him. Piombo was sitting in a window recess in the large saloon, with a grave and forbidding aspect. They advanced toward him, and Ginevra thus presented her lover: "My father,” said she, “I present to you a gentleman whom you will feel pleasure in seeing. This is Monsieur Louis, who fought four paces from the Emperor at Mount St. Jean." The count did not rise nor relax the severity of his features. "You wear no decoration, sir, I observe," said he coldly. "It does not become an officer of Napoleon under present circumstances," answered M. Louis, with some timidity. The reply seemed to gratify the prejudices of the old man, though he said nothing. Madame di Piombo, to break a silence which was at once harsh and uncourteous, hazarded a remark. "What a singular resemblance," exclaimed she, "this young gentleman has to the family of the Portas!" "It is only natural," replied the young man, upon whom the eyes of old Piombo glared with the fury of a demon; "I belong to that family." "A Porta!" shouted the count. "Your name?" Luigi Porta," replied the officer. Piombo arose slowly, under an emotion too strong for utterance. His countenance grew livid with rage. His wife took his arm, and drew him gently toward the door. They left the room together, Bartholomeo directing a gesture of vengeance against the unfortunate youth, and a look of horror at his equally wretched daughter. "What misery in a word!" said Ginevra in a tone of anguish. "Did you not know that our family and yours are hereditary enemies?" "No," answered her lover; "I was carried from Corsica when I was six years old, on account of some misfortune which happened to my father, but I never knew what it was. I was educated at Genoa with my mother's uncle, and when I left him to enter the army, he told me I had a powerful enemy in France, and that I should therefore take the name of Louis only, by which I have been always known. He told me, likewise, our estate was seized; and since that time I have been engaged in active service. "You must quit this house," said Ginevra. "Is, then, this fearful hatred of our fathers between us too?" asked he as he took her hand. "I can not find it so in my heart," she replied; "but do not now stay since your safety may be threatened. I will find means to communicate with you-but be upon your guard, and it is against my own father I warn you." "So saying, she conducted him again to the door, and seeing him safely into the street, bade him adieu with all the warmth of affection she had ever previously exhibited. Ginevra flew to her own room, not for the purpose of dissolving into useless tears, but to enter upon a serious commune with herself as to the course she should pursue. The fearful question she had to solve was, whether she should sacrifice her love, and the happiness of Louis and herself, to gratify the implacable hatred of her father; or to surrender her home, her station, her parents, in favor of a man whom every worldly consideration called upon her to reject? That her father would be immovable in his denunciation, she knew too well. Yet, when did youthful hope despair? She resolved to attempt to argue with him, to reason, to entreat. She could not consent to give up her love for a feud. Besides, she had pledged her faith; and when she thought of Louis, alone and without a friend in the world, a generous sympathy moistened her eyes and nerved her resolution. She determined still to love him and to marry him, even should the paternal malediction fall upon her. The resolute mind of Bartholomeo was inherited by his daughter, and, though she felt for him all the affection and respect natural to their relation, she believed herself not bound to obey what to her seemed a cruel and unjust command. With such sentiments, she descended to the saloon, in which the old count and his wife were sitting in a mournful silence. The conversation between the father and daughter was not long. Piombo expressed at once his irreversible decree. "Who espouses not my quarrel," said he, "is not of my family. While I live, a Porta shall not be my son-in-law. Such is my sentence." Ginevra attempted to show that she had no reason to partake of his enmity; that Louis Porta, who was only six years old when he left Corsica, could have done him no harm; that it was a Christian duty to forgive and not to revenge an injury even when inflicted. Her arguments were in vain. "He is a Porta,” replied the implacable old man, "and that is enough." She then prayed him to regard her happiness, to reflect that, by indulging his hate against an imaginary enemy, he destroyed the peace of mind and the life of his own child. She begged her mother to join in her entreaties; but Bartholomeo was inflexible. "Then, in spite of you," said Ginevra," he shall be my husband!" "I will rather see you dead," rejoined her parent, clenching his bony hand. So saying, he threw her from him. "Begone!" said he, "I have no longer a daughter. I will not give you my curse, but I abandon you; you have now no father!" He now conducted her to the street, and closed the door upon her. Ginevra proceeded to place herself under the protection of Madame Servin, the wife of the painter, who had always expressed great friendship for her, until the day when she should be united to Luigi Porta. But she was destined to experience the insults which are prepared for those who act contrary to the usages of the world. Madame Servin did not approve of her conduct, and begged to be excused from receiving her under her present circumstances. Louis, therefore, obtained for her a small lodging with a respectable matron, near to that he had himself for some time occupied. Here she remained until the marriage could be solemnized. Her mother had traced her retreat, and sent her a variety of things necessary for a young wife, together with a purse of money. A short note accompanied the present, stating that it was sent unknown to the count, and contrary to his injunctions. In her desolation, this mark of maternal kindness drew from Ginevra a flood of tears and a feeling of remorse, which the consolations of Louis alone could efface. reproach to her husband, who was determined no longer to sit in idleness, while his wife worked incessantly. After long consideration, he felt himself equal to no employment save that of copying legal or other documents. He made a tour round the offices of the attorneys and notAt length the day of the marriage arrived. aries of Paris, soliciting papers to copy. He thus Ginevra saw no one around her to hail the event. added to their uncertain income, and, by the exLouis procured two witnesses, who were neces-ercise of industry, they kept poverty at a distance, sary to attest the ceremony. One of them had and beat back the approach of want. At length been in the company he commanded in the Guards, the hour of suffering and mental anguish arrived, and was now keeper of a livery-stable. The other as it will sooner or later to individuals so situwas a butcher, the landlord of the house which ated. was to be their future residence. These good people attended upon the occasion, as if an ordinary affair of business was to be transacted. They were dressed neatly and plainly, though nothing announced that they made part of a nuptial-fête. Ginevra herself was simply habited, conforming to her fortune, and an air of gravity, if not of coldness, seemed to reign around. As the church and the mayor's office were not far distant, Louis gave his arm to the bride, and, followed by the two witnesses, they proceeded on foot to the place of their espousal. After the formalities were gone through, and their names signed, Luigi and Genevra were united. It was with difficulty they got an old priest to celebrate their union, and to give it the Church's benediction, since the ecclesiastics were all eager in their services to more distinguished couples. The priest hastened over the ceremony, and after uniting them before God, as the mayor had united them according to law, he finished the mass, and left them. The marriage being thus celebrated in its two forms, they quitted the church, and Louis conducted his wife to their humble residence. For the space of a year from their union as man and wife, Louis and Ginevra enjoyed as perfect a happiness as could fall to the lot of mortals. Though living far apart from luxury or extravagance, they were too much lovers to regard either as essential to their bliss. The time passed gayly onward, and unheeded by the youthful couple, who could not part even for an hour. If Ginevra ever thought of her parents, it was to regret that they could not view and share her happiness. But with the expiration of the year, came care to corrode their joy. With the buoyant feeling of youth, unacquainted with the horrors of poverty, they laughed at its approach. "I can paint, my Louis," said Ginevra ; we can easily support ourselves." And she prepared to exercise those talents for her subsistence which in other days had tended to her amusement. She executed copies from the old masters, and Louis set out to sell them. But he was ignorant of their value, and of the persons from whom to obtain it. He was content to sell them to an oldfurniture broker at a very low price. Yet Ginevra was pleased to find that her exertions could earn money, and help to maintain her Louis and herself. She redoubled her assiduity, and finished several pieces; she labored with the zeal and ardor of a proselyte. Her exertions conveyed a At a certain season of the year the law offices in Paris are free from business; and for nearly four months Louis Porta was thrown out of employment. His wife had not for some time had the brush in her hand, as she had just given birth to a son. The fees of the medical men had been raised by disposing of part of their furniture. The remainder would have speedily followed, had not the landlord seized it for rent. The wretched husband saw his wife pining for lack of sustenance, and the infant sucking a dry and exhausted breast. He was without the means of procuring a morsel of bread. With the madness of despair he rushed into the street, and wandered in the midst of the brilliant equipages which crowded the city, and of that reckless luxury which seems so insulting to poverty. He passed by the shops of money-changers, where heaps of gold were exposed, one solitary piece from which would have rendered him frantic with joy. But no resource opened itself in his extremity. Any thing seemed just, if he could save the life of Ginevra-to steal, to rob, to murder. To what crime his frenzy might have led him, is doubtful; but fortune saved him from its commission. He had turned his steps unconsciously toward the hotel of the Count di Piombo. When he arrived at it, the gate stood open. He entered, and sprang upstairs. In a moment he stood before Piombo, who was seated near the fire, for the night was cold and wet. "Who are you?" cried the old count, starting up in alarm. "Your daughter's husband," answered Luigi. "And where is my daughter?" he asked, with a trembling accent. "On her death-bed from starvation!" shouted Louis with wildness. "Not yet dead?" "Is there any hope left?" urged the father eagerly. "A piece of gold may save her, if it be speedily applied," replied the husband. "Here is my purse," said Piombo; "tell Ginevra I have pardoned her, and she may come and see me." "She will not come in this world, I fear," answered Luigi, as he took the purse and flew from the room. "Shall we not follow him, and see our daughter-our Ginevra?" said the old man to his wife, who had sat immovable during the preceding dis course, while the first tears he ever shed fell scried to the west, apparently directly in the down his furrowed cheeks. course which we were making; as we proceed"O yes-with all speed!" cried Madame died briskly, however, it fell considerably to the Piombo. She rang the bell. Order a coach to the door instantly," said she to the servant who appeared. south of us, and we perceived that it was a ship on fire. The light increased every moment, and the signal-guns fell upon our ears with distressing rapidity. The captain was at this time pac At midnight the aged parents entered the room of their unfortunate child. Ginevra had just ex-ing the deck, as he had done almost constantly pired; her infant was also dead. Louis hung over the wretched bed upon which they were extended. The physician whom he had procured in his haste had taken up his hat to depart. It was a scene to move the iron heart even of Piombo. "Our feud is at an end," said he to Luigi Porta. "There lie the last of my race. I am a miserable, broken-hearted old man. I suffer punishment from God for not hearkening to her who is now an angel. Yes, Porta, this is a scene on which thy father might have gloated; but with the corpse of my daughter I bury my enmity." Such was the concluding scene in the history of the feud betwixt the families of Piombo and Porta, and which can not be contemplated without producing the moral reflection, that the daughter's imprudence and disobedience was not more severely punished than the unchristian enmity and hard-heartedness of the father. LA STORY OF THE BURNING SHIP. ATE in the autumn of 18-, I happened to be in the southern part of the United States, when some affairs of importance required my speedy appearance in Italy. The delay which would have occurred by coming to New York to embark, and the inconvenience of traveling by land at that season, induced me to engage a passage at once in a vessel which was about to sail from Charleston, laden with cotton for Marseilles. The ship was commanded by Captain S, who was also the owner of the cargo. Without any noteworthy occurrence, we had arrived within a few days' sail of the coast of Spain, when we spoke a ship which had just come from Marseilles; the vessels exchanged the latest papers of their respective countries, and went on again in their several courses. When the French gazettes were opened within our ship, our captain read with unexpected delight, that so small was the supply of cotton in the market, and so strong the demand for it, that the next vessel which arrived with a freight of it might command almost any price which the avarice of the owner should dictate. The wind, which had been for some days setting a little toward the south, was at this time getting round to the east, and promised to bring us without delay directly to the Mediterranean. The captain perceived that, by availing himself to the utmost of this freshening breeze, he might pretty certainly realize a splendid fortune; a consideration which, as he had for years struggled with little success in the pursuit of wealth, filled him with the most enthusiastic joy. Every sail was expanded to the wind, and we advanced with the greatest rapidity. since the intelligence had reached him from the passing vessel, for the restlessness of expectation scarcely allowed him to repose for a moment. His eye was directed resolutely toward the north; and though the light now glared unshunnable, and the frequent shots could not be unheard, and the commotion and exclamations of the passengers could not be unnoticed, his glance never fell upon the object which engrossed all others. After a few moments of intense wonder and excitement among the passengers and crew at the silence of the captain, the steersman called to him, and asked if he should not turn out to the distressed vessel; but the other rudely ordered him to attend to his own concerns. A little while after, at the solicitation of the whole company on board, I went up to the captain, and said to him, that I deemed it my duty to inform him, that the universal desire of his crew was that relief should be given to the burning ship. He replied with agitation, that the vessel could not be saved, and that he should only lose the wind; and immediately went down to the cabin, and locked the door. He was a kindhearted man by nature, and, on ordinary occasions, few would have taken greater trouble to benefit a fellow being. But the prospect of riches was too much for his virtue; the hope of great gain devoured all the better feelings of his nature, and made his heart as hard as stone. If his mother had shrieked from the flames, I do not believe that he would have turned from his course. The crew, in this condition of things, had nothing to do but to lament the master's cruelty, and submit to it. They watched the fiery mass, conscious that a large company of their brethren was perishing within their sight, who, by their efforts, might probably be saved. It was not for several hours that the captain appeared again upon the deck, and from his appearance then, I imagine that the conflict during his solitude must have been severe and trying. I stood near him as he came up. His face had a rigid yet anxious look-the countenance of a man who braved, yet feared some shock. His back was turned to the quarter from which we came, and in that position he addressed to me calmly some indifferent observations. While the conversation went on, he cast frequent and hurried glances to the south and east, till his eyes had swept the whole horizon, and he had satisfied himself that the ship was no longer in view; he then turned fully round, and with an affected gayety, but a real uneasiness which was apparent in the random character of his remarks, drew out his glass, On the following morning, a light was de- and having, by long and scrutinizing examina tion, satisfied his fears, at length recovered his erably composed. But the evening again brought composure. When we reached our destination, I found a ship just preparing to sail for Florence, and I took my passage, leaving the captain to dispose of his cargo at his pleasure. About eight months after this, when I had almost forgotten the occurrence, I was sitting in the private parlor of a London hotel, when a letter was put into my hands from Captain S. It stated that the writer, who was in the city, had heard of my arrival, and would esteem it a very great kindness if I would visit him at my earliest leisure; my coming would be of the utmost importance to himself and others; his servant, it added, waited to show me the way. I immediately set out to comply with the request. Upon entering the room, I was shocked at the change which had taken place in his appearance. He was thin, pale, and haggard, with a wildness of eye that almost indicated that his reason was unsettled. He testified much joy at seeing me, and desiring me to be seated, began his communication. terror; the same vision rushed upon my mind, The unfortunate man paused for a moment, and "I have taken the liberty," said he, "of desiring your company at this time, because you are the only person in London to whom I can venture to make application; and I am going to lay upon you a commission, to which I am sure you will not object. The circumstances of our voyage to Marseilles will occur to your mind without my repeating them. I sold my cargo upon the most advantageous terms, and was rendered at once a rich man. The possession of wealth was new to me, and its enjoyment added, in my case, to its usual gratification, the charm of nov-vive many hours. I am dying of a raging fever, elty. In the capital of Paris I spent many weeks of the highest pleasure, until one day, on entering a café, I took up a gazette, and my eyes fell upon an account of the awful burning of a British man-of-war. The announcement fell upon me like the bolt of heaven. My heart beat and my frame shivered, but I read every word of the article. The vessel which I passed the day before had seen the light from a great distance, and immediately put back to render assistance, but arrived too late to rescue more than two of the crew. They reported that a vessel passed to the north of them within half an hour's sail, but paid no regard to the repeated signals; upon the commander of that ship, the article concluded, must rest the loss of 200 persons. "My peace of mind was gone forever. My ingenuity could devise no sophistry which suggested comfort. Wherever I went that day, I was haunted by remorse. I retired to bed, that I might forget in sleep the tortures of the day; but a terrific dream brought before my mind the whole scene of the conflagration, with the roar of the signal-guns. I awoke with horror. Thrice on the same night did I compose myself to sleep, and thrice was I awakened by the repetition of the dream. For many hours on the succeeding day my spirits were shockingly depressed, but the gay company which I frequented gradually restored me to serenity, and by night I was tolVOL. VI.-No. 36.-3 E but I will have no advice or assistance. The purpose for which I have sent for you is briefly this: the whole sum of money which I gained by my ship's cargo is in the Bank of England. I shall order in my will that every cent of it shall be at your disposal. I wish you to discover the families of those who perished in this vessel; you will learn their names by inquiring at the Admiralty. Distribute to them every cent of this money. You will not deny the last request of a dying man? promise me that you will faithfully perform my wish." I gave him the promise which he desired, and left him. That night Captain S was no more. INHABITANTS OF A DROP OF WATER. SUBM nifying glasses of a microscope, we are at once astonished by the multitude and variety of living creatures presented to our notice. What diversity of size and shape! They can only be compared to funnels and cylinders, fans and flasks, tops, bells and trumpets, globes and stars, fruits and flowers, tadpoles, fish, beetles, serpents, etc. Equally varied are their movements. Some creep and drag their slow length along; others sport and dance, or whirl and dart, with amazing rapidity, through the waters of this tiny ocean; and yet they no more interfere with |