perhaps, her alliance contemned by his father, she firmly resolved, to struggle with her feelings, and accept the independence offered to her.
"I am a stranger in London," she said, " but Mrs. Johnstone, who is the daughter of my nurse can satisfy your inquiries, or if her testimony is deemed insufficient, I can furnish you with the address of the agent of my late father." Gertrude hastily left the room, and sending in Margaret, hurried to her own chamber to compose her agitated spirits. When again summoned to the parlor, the kind-hearted woman-for her visitor was really such -took her hand, saying, " Poor thing, poor thing ; you shall come to us, and we will do every thing in our power to make up to you for the home you have lost." On the following Monday, Gertrude Montgomery became an inmate in the villa of Alderman - , at Streatham. Her pupils were unformed, but docile girls of ten and twelve years of age ; and had received the rudiments of their education at a day-school in the vicinity.
The house was in sight of the public road, according to the approved plan of the London citizens ; but the grounds behind were retired, and might be even termed extensive for the near vicinity of the metropolis.
Three years' residence beneath the roof of the worthy citizen had blunted the first keen feelings of the orphan ; but she still cherished deep within her bosom the image of her recreant lover.
At this period the death of the Fourth George, and the accession of William gave occasion to many festivals and rejoicings ; and on the night of the coronation the family at the villa proceeded in their barouche to view the illuminations. After driving to the bank, mansionhouse, and other public buildings in the city, they proceeded to the west-end of the town. Opposite to the Admiralty, so great was the crowd, that for more than half an hour, the carriage could not move amidst the joyous multitude. The lone orphan had flown in imagination to another hemisphere, and far different scenes, when a question from one of her pupils recalled her back to present realities, and she raised her eyes to see what had excited the attention of the lovely girl. At this moment an exclamation of surprise from a party of pedestrians attracted her notice ; but the next they were lost amidst the crowd, and the barouche at the same time moving forward, she could not obtain another glimpse of the strangers. What to her could be the exclamation of a stranger ? yet Gertrude felt a feverish and restless anxiety on the subject during the rest of the evening, and throughout the night. Next morning, at an early hour she was summoned to the parlor, and, on entering, was clasped in the arms of Hector St. John. All was explained- letters had miscarried, and the most persevering enquiries failed to
throw light on the retreat ofthe orphan. It was, indee ', unknown to every one, but her aged nurse, who before St. John's arrival in Britain, had become the inmate of Margaret's dwelling. Hector had never, for an instant, entertained a doubt of Gertrude ; he imputed her retreat to its true cause—a desire to avoid the ostentatious sympathy of " giddy fashion and low-minded pride," in her altered fortunes. But having found her, he protested that never should they part again. Their early engagement was communicated to her protectors, and one month after their accidental meeting the lovers were united in the presence of the worthy couple, who had acted like kind parents to the bereaved orphan. It was not long before Colonel St. John arrived from the East. He purchased a handsome estate, on which he insisted that the young pair should reside, reserving only a suite of apartments for himself. Years of unalloyed felicity have flown over the heads of Gertrude and her husband, who still live surrounded by a family of X. beauteous sons and daughters.
SERENADE . BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
FROM the close-shut window gleams no spark, The night is chilly, the night is dark, The poplars shiver, the pine-trees moan, My hair by the autumn breeze is blown, Under thy window I sing alone, Alone, alone, ah woe ! alone ! The darkness is pressing coldly around, The windows shake with a lonely sound, The stars are hid and the night is drear, The heart of silence throbs in thine ear, In thy chamber thou sittest alone, Alone, alone, ah woe ! alone! The world is happy, the world is wide, Kind hearts are beating on every side ; Ah, why should we lie so curled Alone in the shell of this great world ? Why should we any more be alone ? Alone, alone, ah woe ! alone ! O! ' tis a bitter and dreary word, The saddest by man's ear ever heard ; We each are young, we each have a heart, Why stand we ever coldly apart ? Must we for ever, then, be alone? Alone, alone, ab woe ! alone !
Nothing sets so wide a mark between the vulgar and the noble soul as the respect and reverential love of womanhood. A man who is always sneering at woman, is, generally, a coarse profligate, or a bigot-no matter which.
