explained—and I do not ace in it any thing more atrange than that which has happened to myself.””
“What do you mean, Madam ?”"
“It is, really, @ most extraordinary coincidence.”
«Speak—t beseech of you to speak.”
Well, then—as to that Spanish painting, from which you have made your own portrait—”
“Go on.”
“My father brought it from Andalusia, where he had been a Jong time with tho army, and it was pluced in the chamber where I waa born, As I grew up, it attracted my observation ; and it wns before that head, 30 animated as it seema, with a lively faith, that my Parente made me say my prayers every day. Little by litte [ took pleasure in gazing upon it; and at a later Period, in my girlish illusions, I accustomed myself to think that Heaven would send mea husband whose face ‘would be like to that in the picture.”
Well?”
“Alas! I was very much deceived. The man to whom my hand was given hud neither the youth, nor the features of the holy monk, under whose patronuze T had, in some manner, placed myself: My father, finding that his death was approaching, and having but a small patrimony to leave mo, wished, before ho died, to see me married, I was just eighteen when he proposed to unite me to his best friend, who was a man of high rank, and had an annual income of a hundred thousand francs, Ought I—could I refuse? £ obcyed—I necepted the hushund, ag if he were my second father, and soon the only one, For six years we lived together, and his affection to me was paternal. Even in his Inst moments, it did not abandon him, ‘Amelia,’ said he to me, ‘you made a great aacrifico when you espoused a man who was more than twice your age—whose youth bad long departed from him, and whose constitution was broken down by the cures and anxieties inseparable from a political life, By your angelic sweetness, you spread & charm over a most itl-assorted union. Permit me, then, to give you a proof of my gratitude, I leave to you the entire disposition of my fortune, and I also engage you to divide it with a husband worthy of your choice. You are still young—you can atill be happy, and you require a protector, When, then, the time of your mourning is passed, follow my advice—my last advice, and never forget your old friend”
Louval threw himneelf on his knees before the Countess, who told him that was not the precise moment for ful- filling the wishes of her husband.
“Ah?!” be exclaimed, “it is not for a poor artist that ach blise is reaorved.”
“Do not 60 express yourself, Louval,” she replied, “for great talents are on a level with the very highest Position in soeiety.”
Ina few weeks afterward “tho Spanish Monk,” and
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“tho Lalian Madonna” might be scen together in the collection of M. Aguado, where they still remain. As to those who #0 strongly resembled them, they were about the same time married, and never siuce huve they wished to be separated from each other.
I REMEMBER MY Vow. By 3, 8, JRNKING, Trrwesner my row! 'twas plighted to thee At the hone of e’en, when the warn breath of June Was fresh on thy check, and o’er mountain and lea Shone the silvery light of the early moon,
(Of the myrtle’a rich leaf, and violets rare,
With the blushing moss-rose, and the gay hare-bell, I wove thee a garland to wreatlie in the hair,
Down thy fair sunny brow in beauty that fell.
And I told thee in many an earnest tone,
Phat the Howers [ gathered, were emblema to me, OF the virtue and truth I knew were thine own,
And the love which I ever should clicrish for thee.
‘The watch-fires of heaven shone clearly aul bright Through the gath’ring laze, but faint was their gleaming, And feeble their glow. when compared with the light In thine eye, so fondly and tenderly beaming,
‘The low, plaintive notes of the murmuring rill, Rose sofily and sweetly in glen and in date,
And the lay of the breeze from forest-crownedl hill, Floated gently adown our glad native vale.
But the tones of that voice which haunteth me now Foll softer and sweeter upan my rapt ear,
When warmly they uttered that passionate vow. To hold me, for aye, the bicloved one and dear,
T remember the troth I gave to thee there, ‘With my lips to thine own, thy hand clasped in mine: ft is first in my thought, and last in my prayer— T remember my vow !—dost thou think on thine?
SONNET.
How shall T meet thee, Summer, wont to fill My heart with gladness, when thy pleasant tide Firat came, and on each coomb’s romantic vide ‘Was heard the distant euckoo’s hallow hill? Frosh Rowers shall fringo the wild brink of the stream, As with the song of joyance and of bepe, ‘Phe bedge-rows shall ring aloud, and on the slope ‘The poplara sparkle on the transient beam, Phe shrubs and laurels which love to tend. ‘Thinking their May-tide fragrance might delight, With many a peacefill charm, thee, my best friend, Shall put forth their grcen shoot, and cheer the sight ! But { shall mark their hnos with sick'uing eyes, And weep for her who in the cold grave hes!
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