ridiculously named village, I am about to communicate an event in which, while it may surprise you as much as it did me, you cannot, notwithstanding all the vividness of your sisterly sympathy, fully enter into my delight. On my arrival, I went to see the gentleman to whom I had been directed for information on my business. I found he had gone to a picnic, a mile or two out of town, and was easily persuaded by one of the young men in the office to accompany him to the scene of gaiety, and there, Julia, can you guess who I met? Perhaps my expressions of delight may aid your imagination. It was indeed my long-lost Emma Benson! my! I dare not say that yet, though I am not without hope. The surprise of seeing one connected with former times might fully account for her emotion at meeting me, but still, I have hope. I heard one of the vulgar girls in the family taunt her for having my card. Why should she have brought that here? But I must not, dare not let my wishes thus influence my hopes. I believe I have not yet told you what she is doing in a place where she has no friends. Would you believe it? This highly educated girl is teaching A.B.C. to a set of untrained colts. You need not take me quite literally either as to the colts or the A.B.C., but the fact is, I have no patience when I see one who might grace a palace, taxed from morning till night to communicate her graces and accomplishments to a set who spring from too vulgar a stock to be otherwise themselves. Now for a plan on which I have set my heart. I heard you say sometime ago that you would, if you could meet a suitable person, transfer your little girls from your own to the care of a governess. Dear Julia, where could you find someone more amiable and better educated than Emma? If you saw the manner in which she supports the trying reverses she has met with, the sweet dignity with which she bears the insolence of Mrs. Olden, who treats her as a servant, and her devotion to the children under her care, you would not hesitate, especially if you felt persuaded as I do, that the purest religious principle guides every thought and action. Do answer me immediately; I shall wait here till you do. I dare not play lover till I hear from you, for fear her shrinking delicacy might cause her to regard that as an objection to going to you, though I think we could be far enough apart to satisfy the most fastidious. If you wish her to come to you, direct a letter to her to my care, and I will use all my eloquence for you; if you do not, I shall use it for myself, but I fear it will be too precipitate. I give you fair warning; if you get the treasure, I shall do my best to win it from you cautiously, but not in a less decisive way. Write soon, I entreat."
In due time, a letter came, full of affectionate sympathy, and one for Emma, in which such delicate consideration was evinced for her feelings and change of fortune that the tears streamed down her checks while reading it.
"You will go, Emma, Miss Benson," stammered Delancey, hardly able to command himself.
"I cannot say no," was her reply. "I shall write a most grateful acceptance."
Delancey dared not trust himself to remain longer but hurried away, leaving her to write her answer and announce her intention to the Oldens. Mrs. Olden's indignation at finding she must give up one through whom she was so cheaply educating her daughters was great, and at first she refused to allow Emma to go under another year, pretending she was engaged to her. This Emma denied, as no term had ever been specified, but somewhat pacified the incensed lady by promising to remain till the quarter was completed and make no charge for it. She concealed Mrs. Western's relationship to Delancey from the Oldens and thus escaped their taunts, but her situation was rendered doubly trying, and she looked forward to the period of her release with pleasure; she would not allow Delancey to wait for her or return to be her escort, as he implored. If Mr. Olden could not procure for her the protection of some country merchant on his way to purchase a fall supply of goods in the city, she would go alone. Delancey found her inflexible and submitted with rather an ill grace, consoling himself with the determination to be at his sisters on her arrival. And there, before the winter's snow had fallen, they did meet, and Mrs. Western soon had the pleasure to see that her brother's hopes were well founded. Before another year had passed, Emma Delancey returned to her native city, not altogether a portionless bride, for a large debt due to her father having been unexpectedly recovered. Some thousands remained over the creditor's claims, and Emma had the pleasure of seeing her dear harp and piano in rooms where they did not seem misplaced, though far below their former retiring place in point of splendor. Good Mrs. Wiley was one of their first and most frequent visitors, and when a little Charles made his appearance, she was easily persuaded to remain altogether with them. Thus, surrounded by admiring friends, a lovely child, and an attached husband, we will leave Emma fully convinced that afflictions are sent in mercy and that often what we consider the greatest trial we could be called upon to endure is made the means of bringing us earthly as well as heavenly happiness. A. M. D.
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GENEVIEVE.
MAID of my love, sweet Genevieve!
In beauty's light, you glide along.
Your eyes are like the stars of Eve.
And sweet your voice, as seraph's song.
Yet not your heavenly beauty gives
This heart with passion, soft to glow:
Within your soul is a voice that lives!
It bids your heart the tale of woe.
When sinking low, the sufferer wants
Behold, no hand outstretch'd to save,
Fair, as the bosom of the swan,
That rises gracefully over the wave,
I've seen your breast with pity.
And therefore, I love you, sweet Genevieve!
COLERIDGE.
