Imatges de pàgina
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The count Gheranzi assisted at the last obsequies of the marquis, with great apparent grief for his friend and sympathy in the feelings of his successor; and from his lips, after the mournful ceremonies were concluded, Vincentio received the only consolation which his heart could then admit-an assurance, that after such reasonable delay as reverence for the departed claimed from affection and duty, the nuptials should be solemnized.

"I tremble at delay!" said the mourner. "You need not," replied the count: "I swear to you, by the soul of your lamented sire, that Agatha shall be yours." A few days only had, however, elapsed when a marked change was seen in the deportment of the count, who now seemed to shun the young marquis as sedulously as he had before sought him. Dark whispers were abroad, that the late marquis, from extravagance and a propensity to gaming, indulged in secret at Venice and other places, was a ruined man; and each succeeding day served but to strengthen affirmations which none ventured to deny. Vincentio awaking from a dream of grief, found himself suddenly abandoned by those whom he had deemed his friends; while a host of creditors were loudly clamouring for the discharge of obligations, the existence of which he had believed impossible. Alas! the dying agonies of his father were now explained. He knew too well the ruinous consequences of his infatuated career not to reflect on the approaching misery of a beloved son with the bitterest remorse. He felt too late how fatal had been a rivalry, never acknowledged but always existing, between the houses of Petroni and Gheranzi; and how unavailing had been his endeavours to rear the tottering fabric of his fortunes by the desperate expedient of gaming, till, drawn into a vortex from which he vainly endeavoured to escape, he at last owed his ruin to the very means by which he had hoped to avert it. These unwelcome truths were but too soon revealed to the heart-stricken Vincentio. Far, however, from brooding over evils that were irremediable, he roused at once the latent energies of his nature to grapple with the calamity, and extract from the bitter draught presented to him a salutary balsam, if such might be, to aid and strengthen him in the hour of trial. The amount of claims he found would leave him in possession of a fortune too limited to uphold the dignity of his house, yet still sufficing in some distant spot to yield all that love could desire. Would the count under such circumstances hold his promise sacred? Alas! his conduct seemed but too evident of his purpose.

Would Agatha herself accept a portionless yet not degraded noble? The question almost unmanned him.-" To lose her!-but no, I cannot, will not resign her! From her own lips will I learn my fate-and if she reject meThe thought was too painful. With a desperation of purpose, in which the impetuosity of his temperament was but too apparent, he sought the villa Gheranzi.

The sun was just setting as he entered by a private gate, that led to the gardens; and sunset in that delicious climate is a scene of splendid beauty. The richlyblending hues of leaf and flower were now bathed in a flood of light, as resplendent as fleeting. Tint after tint, gradually receding in brilliancy, yet not less beautiful in the softer glow reflected from that crimsoned west which the sun had now forsaken, faded into shadow, unbroken save by the vivid fire-fly, that seemed to triumph in the swift falling gloom which veils the repose of nature: and oh, how lovely is that repose!-Agitated as was the soul of Vincentio, the voice of passion yielded insensibly to the silent yet not less powerful influence of that sweet hour of stillness and serenity.

"Alas!" he exclaimed, "what is the splendour of courts or palaces to the flowery enamelling of nature-the blue o'er-arching canopy of heaven!-In a spot like this-" A light step interrupted his meditations ;-it was Agatha herself. "Vincentio here?" she exclaimed.

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Aye!" cried he, seizing her hand with a melancholy earnestness-"I am Vincentio still-art thou still Agatha ?" "I am," replied the maiden firmly.

He sank on his knee, and pressed her hand to his lips. "Forgive me, Agatha, if I doubted thee for a moment. I am a wretched bewildered outcast. Alas! it may be that you are yet a stranger to my utter destitution and misery!"

The tears of Agatha fell fast on his burning cheek. "That misery, Vincentio, could alone excuse this unmanly burst of passion.-I know much-perhaps not all; tell me the worst.'

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"I am ruined, Agatha! and by whom? my fond, misguided father! I might indeed"-and his eyes flashed fire as he spoke-" I might yet whistle off these gasping creditors, and laugh their claims to scorn: they cannot compel-Away, away, unworthy thought!-shall I outrage the memory of my departed sire, and, to uphold my own name, abandon his to scorn and contumely? No, Agatha! not even for thee, all angel as thou art, could I blast the honour of my dead father."

"Vincentio! my own, noble Vincentio! dearer to me in this lone hour than

in thy zenith of fame and fortune! whatever be thy fate, Agatha is still thine !— By yon blue heaven I swear never to wed another?"

66 My angelic Agatha !"

"Nay, nay, my friend, I but renew a Now yielded under happier auspices. My faith was given to thee alone;-art thou not still Vincentio!-Let all things change but woman's love!-be mine like yon glorious star, that shines more brightly as the light of day recedes!"

"Is this well done, young man ?" said the count breaking hastily on their conference;" is it well done to intrude on the privacy of my daughter?-have the doors of my house been closed against you, that you thus seek entrance by unaccustomed paths?"

"Your pardon, count!" replied Vincentio somewhat proudly : "if to avoid the casual encounter of menials, who might look with scorn on my altered fortunes, need grace or pardon. I knew not that I should be so blest as to meet my Agatha here."

"Well, well!” cried the count abruptly, "be your motives as they might, it is now time we should understand each other."

Vincentio shuddered, but spoke not. The count continued, with some embarrassment: "You must be quite aware that our projected alliance is now at

an end."

"My father;" cried Agatha faintly. "At an end?" repeated Vincentio. "The count does but jest with you," exclaimed the countess, coming forward. "My lady countess, we looked not for your presence," cried the count peevishly; "and for jesting, it were ill-timed on this occasion. I speak with strong regret, but from a sense of duty which must not be controlled. When I promised my daughter to you in marriage, marquis, I pledged her to one of nobility illustrious as my own, and of wealth equal, if not superior. Prove to me that you are still the same, and Agatha is yours.'

"This is but mockery," cried Vincentio; you know too well, count, the ruin that impends over the house of Petroni: yet promises, my lord, are, or should be, sacred."

"The honour of our house demands it," interrupted the countess.

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The count seemed confused, but the swift-spreading shadow aided him as he proceeded: "I am not to learn that there are claims on the Petroni property which would absorb perhaps the whole; nor am I to be informed that it is at your option to admit or reject them. Shake off these incumbrances."

"And shall I do so, count?" exclaimed Vincentio, his eyes lightening with indig. nation and scorn; "and would you take to your arms a son who had renounced the duty, the reverence, the affection of a child; one whom the finger of scorn would pursue as a renegade from all that man holds sacred or woman glorious?— Would you give your daughter, and such a daughter, to one whose wealth was purchased by infamy, whom the never-dying voice of an outraged parent would haunt in his halls of pride, aye, even in the arms of love?-Oh Agatha! why am I compelled to this?"`

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"It is enough," said the count; our contract is dissolved."

"Dissolved?" repeated Vincentio, in a voice of thunder;" then is there no faith in man!"

"Remember!" exclaimed Agatha

faintly.

"I do remember," continued her lover, "that unhallowed night, when, over the grave of him whose memory is dishonoured even by this parley, you, count, swore to give me your daughter-Nay, nay, hear me out I was then rich-It matters not for words-I was esteemed so -I was the honoured, the illustrious, the almost deified marquis Petroni. What am I now? a suppliant-an outcast!" "You are too warm."

"It may be so; yet have I not cause? -What reservation was there?-noneby yon bright heaven I swear it!-To me, rich, or poor, was Agatha affianced, and at your hands, in the face of heaven, I now claim her."

A dead pause succeeded, which the countess was the first to break.

"Is this true, Gheranzi?" "I have been absolved from my oath," the count slowly murmured; "the holy father'

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"Name it not!" cried the countess passionately: "there is no power, save His in whose presence we now stand, that could absolve a free-will vow: and, oh Gheranzi!" continued his noble partner, more calmly, but with not less fervour "can you desire it? If calamity bath overwhelmed the fortunes of Petroni Petroni himself is still unsullied, and th house of Gheranzi, by adopting him its own, will gain a treasure far greate than he has lost: -our wealth is ample."

"And shall I bestow it on a beggar?" "Oh shame, shame!" exclaimed the countess:" hear not, Vincentio, our degradation; hear not the wretched man, who for the vile dross of earth would barter even heaven.-Agatha, listen to a mother-"

66 Say rather to a father," interrupted the count," since a mother so far forgets her duty.-Agatha, my curse, a father's deadly curse, be on you-no knees to

me

"Forbear, Gheranzi!" cried the countess wildly," for the love of heaven, forbear! Behold me, thy wife, the daughter of a princely house; behold thy weeping child, and him whom thy unhallowed words have stricken to the Soul; behold us at thy feet, and breathe thy horrid imprecations if thou canst!"

"If I can!" cried the infuriated count. "May, then, the curse of heaven-"

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'No, no, Gheranzi! it will but recoil on your own head.-Oh, for the sake of her whom thy passion will destroy"-for Agatha now lay fainting at his feet-" for his sake whose noble forbearance in this hour of trial might shame thy unholy wrath-how? speak you not?-are all my adjurations vain?-Nay, go not, Gheranzi!-if we part thus, we part for ever."

"Then be it so!" exclaimed the count. The countess looked wildly at him for a moment, pressed her hands on her forehead, and fell to the earth insensible. They hastened to raise her-alas! in vain. In the violence of her emotion, the very strings of life had loosened; a vessel had burst on the brain, and the noble, the generous countess was a corpse.

The events of some succeeding weeks must be passed lightly over. The count was for a time inconsolable, and the emotions of Agatha were such as to endanger her life; during this period, the agony of Vincentio was almost beyond endurance. The remains of the countess were borne to the family tomb with princely pomp and magnificence, which seemed intended as a feeble atonement to the dead for injustice to the living. Vain as is that last subterfuge of intruding conscience it contributed to lull the remorse of the count, whose ruling avarice once more arose, as the better feelings of his nature grew less vivid, and rendered him as averse as before from the fulfilment of his engagements. The fading cheek, the dim eye, and the pleading looks of Agatha, had less power over his will than the reviving desire of an alliance with the prince of Castel Monti, whom the knowledge of the altered fortunes of Petroni had emboldened to renew his pretensions.

Vincentio, on the recovery of his mistress, had suddenly quitted Mantua, and was not yet returned. The count, re-assured by his absence, had urged the addresses of Castel-Monti on Agatha with an earnestness, which, in her enfeebled, state of mind and body, the memory of her oath could alone have enabled her to resist.

"These continued refusals," said he, one day when the prince, again repulsed, had left the palace with some indication of resentment; "these repeated refusals, my child, are unkind and undutiful. Petroni, it is clear, has wisely and justly abandoned his pretensions, and you are now therefore free." A faint shriek from Agatha interrupted his counsels-Vincentio stood before them..

For some time no one found utterance for feelings which were bitter enough in all.

"I stand before you, count," at length Vincentio said, "poor, but stainless. I durst not risk temptation, even for Agatha. My father's manes are appeased-his debts are no more!"

"And the wealth of Petroni is also no more?"

"It is nearly so, count." "You know my determination-ask me not to repeat it."

"Will nothing then change it? has the past spoken in vain ?"

"We thought you had relinquished this fruitless passion," cried the count, evading the question; "and the prince of Castel-Monti-"

"How, Agatha! have you too, forgotten your vow?"

"A vow, Agatha-what folly is this?" exclaimed the count.

"Vincentio!" cried the maiden, "I have sworn to you-I swear to you again, in the presence of my only parent, never to wed another. Oh, my father! you must, you will forgive your poor Agatha, for her sake who is now no more, and in whose blessed name I also vow never to wed even my own, my best-beloved Vincentio, till your consent shall hallow our union!"\

"You have been unwise in this," cried the count.

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Agatha !" exclaimed Vincentio, though by this vow you have perhaps blighted my hopes for ever, I honour, I revere, the feeling from which it springs; and oh, if it be possible, I love thee more dearly than ever! Say not, count, that we must part. Can I, ought I, to relinquish that hope which, come weal or woe, shall shine my beacon, my guiding-star through all!"

"I will not be urged," replied the count, in great embarrassment; "let me

know the present state of your fortunes. if there be any chance of a retrieval, I may yet be prevailed on to comply; but the honour of my house forbids me to bestow my child on one, whose title is his only possession. In a week we will talk of this again."

At the expiration of a week, Vincentio again appeared, but with a gloomy earnestness in his manner, wholly different from his usual frank and unreserved deportment.

"I find," said he, speaking with great agitation," that there are certain sums owing to my late father, which time and perseverance may yet recover."

"It is well," said the count; "you talk now like a just and honourable man."

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From the Honble. Frederick De Roos's Travels in the United States and Canada, we gather the following account of his visit to these stupendous falls :

-Vincentio started." I will not deal THE FALLS OF THE NIAGARA. harshly with you," continued the count: 66 you are both young; much is due to the memory of our late regretted countess; and a year's delay will not be too much. If, therefore, on the festival of St. Michael in the ensuing year you prove to me that you are in possession of funds sufficient to uphold your dignity, Agatha shall be yours. If, on the contrary, your efforts are unsuccessful, you shall on that day renounce your pretensions, and, mark me! release her from the further observance of her rash and foolish vow."

"Your conditions are hard, I had almost said unjust," exclaimed Vincentio. "They are at least unchangeable," replied the count drily: " you know the oath that Agatha has sworn to me, and you know also the only terms on which my consent shall ever be yielded to your union."

"You leave me, then, no choice," cried Vincentio mournfully: "but may I not see Agatha ere I depart?"

"For what purpose?"

"Alas, I know not!-Oh, count, you little know what you have this day counselled-Heaven grant that the issue may never recoil upon you." He sighed and departed.

(To be Continued.)

LINES WRITTEN ON
A FINE DAY IN WINTER.
For the Olio,

How doubly splendid is a sun-gilt day,

Never shall I forget the intense anxiety with which I expected the sight of Niagara, and still less the awful moment, when, I first beheld the mighty Cataract expanded before me.

To enjoy this moment I had made great sacrifices and encountered some difficulties; I had not only protracted my` absence from home, towards which I was free to return, but had increased my separation from it by a distance of more than twelve hundred miles.

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Ample, however, was my reward. I had in the course of my life beheld some of the most celebrated sights of nature; Etna and Vesuvius;-The Andes, almost at their greatest elevation-Cape Horn, rugged and bleak, buffeted by the southern tempest; and, though last not least, the long swell of the Pacific; but nothing I had ever seen or imagined, could compare in grandeur with the falls of Niagara.

My first sensation was that of exquisite delight at having before me the greatest wonder, in my opinion, of the world. Strange as it may appear, this feeling was immediately succeeded by an irresistible melancholy. Had this not continued, it might perhaps have been attributed to the satiety incident to the complete gratification of "hope long deferred;" but so far from diminishing, the more I gazed the stronger and deeper the feeling became. Yet this scene of sadness was

'Mid the dark gloom of winter! when the strangely mingled with a kind of intoxi

elements

Seem lost to Nature's smile; and discontent
Frowns in displeasure from his drear abode,
And frights each joy from life.-Then, the
light,

Breaking her prison walls of fog and mist,
Cheers up the dull creation; then, rude mirth,
And romping gaiety, go hand in hand,

cating fascination. Whether the phenomenon is peculiar to Niagara, I know not, but certainly it has been generally observed, that the spirits are affected and depressed in a singular manner by the magic iufluence of this stupendous Fall.

About five miles above the Cataract, the river expands to the dimensions of a lake, after which it gradually narrows. The Rapids commence at the upper extremity of Goat Island, which is half a mile in length, and divides the river at the point of precipitation into two unequal parts; the larger is distinguished by the several names of the Horseshoe, Crescent, and British Fall, from its semicircular form and contiguity to the Canadian shore. The smaller is named the American Fall. A portion of this Fall is divided by a rock from Goat Island, and though here insignificant in appearance, would rank high among European cascades.

I came to the cottage of the guide, near which is a circular kind of corkscrew ladder, constructed round a mast, to enable travellers to descend to a path which winds along the upper part of the debris, formed by the occasional crumbling of the precipice. By means of this path you gain the lower part of the Cataract, and have a fine view upwards.

The falls when viewed from above, may be compared to a volume of steam rising from some monstrous cauldron.

In the evening I again visited the Cataract, to behold it by moonlight, taking my seat on a projecting rock, at a little distance from the brink of the Fall, I gazed till my senses were almost absorbed in contemplation.

Although the shades of night increased the sublimity of the prospect, and

"Deepened the murmur of the falling flood,"

The height of the British Fall is one hundred and seventy-five feet, and its breadth in one unbroken cascade, is seven hundred yards. The extremity of Goat Island, which separates the Cataracts, is three hundred and twenty yards in the moon in placid beauty shed her soft breadth; the American Fall extends be- influence upon the mind, and mitigated yond that, three hundred and seventy the horrors of the scene. The thunders yards broad and one hundred and sixty which bellowed from the abyss, and the feet in height, making a total breadth of loveliness of the falling element, which nearly fourteen hundred yards. I must not omit to mention, that though the bed glittered like molten silver in the moonof the river sinks to so great a depth, the light, seemed to complete in absolute level of the circumjacent land continues perfection the rare union of the beautiful the same below as above the Falls.

On the Canadian side, are situated two inns, and some few cottages are scattered at intervals over the country, which, in point of cultivation, resembles a garden. On the American shore, a liitle above the Fall, is built the manufacturing village of Manchester. Here are to be found excellent hotels, one of which is kept by a General of Militia, who served with distinction in the last war.

The quantity of water which passes the Cataract is thus computed by an American traveller. The river at the ferry, below the Falls, is seven furlongs wide, and, on an average, twenty-five feet deep. The current runs about six miles an hour; but supposing it to be only five miles, the quantity which passes the Falls in an hour, is more than eighty-five millions of tuns avoirdupois: if we suppose it to be six, it will be more than 102 millions; and in a day would exceed 2400 millions of tuns.

My object being to approach as close to the Cataract as possible; I descended a bank by a steep winding path to the narrow marshy slip which forms the immediate margin of the river; along this I advanced about one hundred yards, till I arrived at the very verge of precipitation. A person may at this point, place himself within an inch of the Cataract, and dip his hand into the water. Proceeding a little farther in the direction of the stream,

with the sublime.

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As an old horse that starts when sounds
The horn along the field;
He startles at the drum-beat's rounds
And marks time with his heels.

He holds a rimless hat before,

Which takes his daily pay,
Sometimes he scarce can count it o'er,
It is so small each day.

His wife conducts his footsteps right,
With infant in her arms;
He feels its beauty by the light,

And glories in its charms;

That infant strokes his hind hair white,
And fondles on his face;
Unconscious that the parent sight,
Is absent from its place.

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