called, and compromised with his creditors, reserv- | lovely daughter, and who, in every respect, was ening to himself a pretty little capital of some eighty or titled to wear it, as she would have adorned it, rea hundred thousand dollars, by means of judicious ceiving back the price, with a view to put it in the payments to confidential creditors, his wife and fund he is already collecting to meet the demands of daughter saw all they most prized taken away, and his creditors. It is due to the very respectable firm the town was filled with the magnitude of their sacri- of Bobbinet & Co. to add, that it refunded the money fices, and with the handsome manner in which both with the greatest liberality, at the first demand. We submitted to make them. By this ingenious device, can recommend this house to our readers as one of the insolvent not only preserved his character, by no the most liberal in our city, (by the way the editor means an unusual circumstance in New York, how- who wrote this article did n't own a foot of the town, ever, but he preserved about half of his bonâ fide es- or of any thing else,) and as possessing a very large tate also; his creditors, as was customary, doing the and well selected assortment of the choicest goods." paying. It is unnecessary to dwell on the remainder of this dialogue, my own adventures so soon carrying me into an entirely different sphere. The following morning, however, as soon as he had breakfasted, Mr. Halfacre put me in his pocket, and walked down street, with the port of an afflicted and stricken, but thoroughly honest man. When he reached the shopdoor of Bobbinet & Co., he walked boldly in, and laid me on the counter with a flourish so meek, that even the clerks, a very matter-of-fact caste in general, afterwards commented on it. "Circumstances of an unpleasant nature, on which I presume it is unnecessary to dwell, compel me to offer you this handkerchief, back again, gentlemen," he said, raising his hand to his eyes in a very affecting manner. "As a bargain is a bargain, I feel great reluctance to disturb its sacred obligations, but I cannot suffer a child of mine to retain such a luxury, while a single individual can justly say that I owe him a dollar." "What fine sentiments!" said Silky, who was lounging in a corner of the shop-" wonderful sentiments, and such as becomes a man of honesty." Those around the colonel approved of his opinion, and Mr. Halfacre raised his head like one who was not afraid to look his creditors in the face. "I approve of your motives, Mr. Halfacre," returned Bobbinet, "but you know the character of the times, and the dearness of rents. That article has been seen in private hands, doubtless, and can no longer be considered fresh-we shall be forced to make a considerable abatement, if we consent to comply." "Name your own terms, sir; so they leave me a single dollar for my creditors, I shall be happy." Wonderful sentiments!" repeated the colonel"we must send that man to the national councils!” After a short negotiation, it was settled that Mr. Halfacre was to receive $50, and Bobbinet & Co. were to replace me in their drawer. The next morning an article appeared in a daily paper of preeminent honesty and truth, and talents, in the following words: "Worthy of Imitation.-A distinguished gentleman of this city, H— H—, Esquire, having been compelled to suspend, in consequence of the late robbery of the Bank of the United States by the coldblooded miscreant whose hoary head disgraces the White House, felt himself bound to return an article of dress, purchased as recently as yesterday by his The following words-" we take this occasion to thank Messrs. Bobbinet & Co. for a specimen of most beautiful gloves sent us," had a line run through in the manuscript; a little reflection, telling the learned editor that it might be indiscreet to publish the fact at that precise moment. The American will know how to appreciate the importance of this opinion, in relation to the house in question, when he is told that it was written by one of those inspired moralists, and profound constitutional lawyers, and ingenious political economists, who daily teach their fellow creatures how to give practical illustrations of the mandates of the Bible, how to discriminate in vexed questions arising from the national compact, and how to manage their private affairs in such a way as to escape the quicksands that have wrecked their own. As some of my readers may feel an interest in the fate of poor Eudosia, I will take occasion to say, before I proceed with the account of my own fortunes, that it was not half as bad as might have been supposed. Mr. Halfacre commenced his compromises under favorable auspices. The reputation of the affair of the pocket-handkerchief was of great service, and creditors relented as they thought of the hardship of depriving a pretty girl of so valuable an appliance. Long before the public had ceased to talk about the removal of the deposits, Mr. Halfacre had arranged every thing to his own satisfaction. The lots were particularly useful, one of them paying off a debt that had been contracted for half a dozen. Now and then he met an obstinate fellow who insisted on his money, and who talked of suits in chancery. Such men were paid off in full, litigation being the speculator's aversion. As for the fifty dollars received for me, it answered to go to market with until other funds were found. This diversion of the sum from its destined object, however, was apparent rather than real, since food was indispensable to enable the excellent but unfortunate man to work for the benefit of his creditors. In short, every thing was settled in the most satisfactory manner, Mr. Halfacre paying a hundred cents in the dollar, in lots, however, but in such a manner as balanced his books beautifully. "Now, thank God! I owe no man a sixpence," said Mr. to Mrs. Halfacre, the day all was concluded, "and only one small mistake has been made by me, in going through so many complicated accounts, and for such large sums." "I had hoped all was settled," answered the good woman in alarm. "It is that unreasonable man, John Downright, who gives you this trouble, I dare say.” "He-oh! he is paid in full. I offered him, at first, twenty-five cents in the dollar, but that he would n't hear to. Then I found a small error, and offered forty. It would n't do, and I had to pay the scamp a hundred. I can look that fellow in the face with a perfectly clear conscience." "Who else can it be, then?" "Only your brother, Myers, my dear; somehow or other, we made a mistake in our figures, which made My soul was like the sea Through every rift it foamed in vain Its only voice a vast dumb moan Of utterless anguish speaking, It lay unhopefully alone And lived but in an aimless seeking. So was my soul: but when 't was full Of unrest to o'erloading, A voice of something beautiful Whispered a dim foreboding, For the moon's silver feet, So lay my soul within mine eyes When thou its sovereign moon didst rise. And now, howe'er its waves above May toss and seem uneaseful, One strong, eternal law of love With guidance sure and peaceful, As calm and natural as breath Moves its great deeps through Life and Death. RESIGNATION. HERS was a cheerful faith! The darling child Amid whose fragrance wandered. undefiled, And hopeful still, with spirit meek and calm, THE LOVER'S SIGNAL. BY THE AUTHOR OF "HENRI QUATRE; OR THE DAYS OF THE LEAGUE." arch-looking belle of two and twenty, with eyes in AMONG the villas and chateaux which skirt Gene- | advantage of being six years older-a gay, handsome, va's lake, none ranked higher for picturesque beauty of situation, than the abode of Monsieur St. Aubin. He was of French descent, inheriting the domains of a family which, for several generations, had been established in Switzerland. His ancestors had held, previous to their emigration, posts of honor and emolument at the French court; loyalty, even on republican soil, remained a traditional virtue in the family; it was, therefore, with much grief that St. Aubin heard of the decapitation of Louis and the queenly Marie Antoinette, the dispersion of their brilliant court, the wreck of all memory held so dear-the ancien régime. If the dire event had happened earlier, whilst he was a younger man, he would undoubtedly have taken up arms, and joined the emigrant army; but he had already fallen into "the sere and yellow leaf," had no son to whom he might entrust the family honor and sword-zeal was restricted to generous sympathy for the Bourbons, thorough detestation of the regicidal authorities. He was a widower, with an only daughter, Bertha, lately returned, on account of the troubles, from a long sojourn with relatives at Paris. Fondness for ances-teresting, or afford matter for speculation—by the tral recollections induced privation of his daughter's society; he was anxious she should for a while dwell midst the splendor of a court, of whose earlier history he had a thousand anecdotes to relate, bequeathed by sire and grandsire. During her absence, feeling his state lonely, unsocial, he took under his roof a brother's orphan daughters, Melanie and Euphrasia St. Aubin. It was about six months after the return of Bertha, that the sisters, Melanie and Euphrasia, were one afternoon sitting on the terrace-walk, which commanded a view of the lake. The suite of rooms occupied by the family opened on a smooth, tesselated promenade, shaded at each end by lofty foliage, beneath which stood pavilions of uniform design. Euphrasia, the younger sister, a girl of sixteen summers, with some pretensions to beauty, and undeniable claim to good temper and kindly disposition, was sitting al fresco, in front of the half-opened doors of the saloon, engaged sketching a portion of the varied landscape; whilst Melanie walked to and fro, sometimes pausing to mark her sister's progress, sometimes staying before the door, considering whether she should take pencil in hand, resume the halffinished embroidery, or evoke the latent melody which dwelt in the strings of the suspended guitar. Taller than Euphrasia, she had the advantage or dis "Here comes our good uncle-and I hope with plenty of news!" exclaimed the idle beauty, enthusiastically. His arrival was hailed as a great relief by both ladies-by the one, inasmuch as he brought from Geneva the latest news, which might prove in other, as she could now pursue her pictorial studies freed from the inquietude which the restlessness of one sister failed not to inflict on the other. "Where is Bertha?" asked St. Aubin, looking round, after he had satisfied the many eager inquiries of Melanie. "Nay-I know not, uncle," replied the niece, coldly; "she is too fine a lady to remain with us humbly bred provincials—perhaps we might find her on the shore gathering pebbles, or on the rocks picking up quartz, or maybe in one of the grottoes beneath, carving a sonnet in sandstone." "You are too severe, Melanie," remarked the old gentleman, approaching his younger niece; "Bertha is much changed, I own, since her return-but your behavior does not afford a fair chance for the renewal of the sisterlike friendship which existed when both were younger." As monsieur approached Euphrasia, the latter anticipated his wish by presenting her drawing. He bowed, in receiving it, with the gracefulness of la vieille cour. He stood comparing the sketch with the original-Melanie was at his shoulder. "Monsieur St. Aubin," said the maiden, coaxingly, "is angry-" "No, Melanie," replied the uncle, "I am grieved― sorry." "But you shall no longer have cause," rejoined the, lady; "it shall not be my fault, if Bertha and I be not as sisters again." the arcana of the heart, and was both chilled and vexed in gaining no confidence in return. Bertha she found was no longer the Bertha of childhood and "See! where she comes!" cried Euphrasia, point- maturer youth, but a clever, polished woman of the ing toward the beach. Whilst Bertha alone wound up the rather toilsome ascent from the lake, for age excused even the gallant breeding of St. Aubin, we will endeavor to clear the mystery from the hints and inuendoes thrown out in the above conversation. Up to the period of the departure for Paris, the friendship of Bertha and Melanie was proverbial in the neighborhood; since the return of the heiress of Chateau St. Aubin, after an absence of two years, the intimacy-although the parties now dwelt under the same roof-assumed a cold, estranged and formal character, sadly enlivened by traits of pique and rivalry—the animosity, it must be confessed, chiefly on the side of Melanie. The little world, around that side Geneya's lake, as malevolently disposed as else- | where, took a summary view of the quarrel, and it was accordingly an unchallenged axiom of gossip, that Bertha was enraged to find her own station in her father's house usurped-authority delegated to the niece instead of the daughter; and that Melanie, emboldened by a wild, wilful spirit, was bent on retaining the vantage-ground, having, during Bertha's absence, acquired an ascendancy over her easy, good tempered uncle. But, in truth, neither cousin could have explained satisfactorily the cause of difference; it originated from various motives, some of which worked unconsciously in the mind. Two years spent in the best society of Paris had freed Bertha from every trace of rusticity and provincial manners; the tone of polite society, preceding the revolution, was animated by philosophy, deepened by the enkindling strife of politics, which raged equally in the saloon and the Tiers Etat; ladies caught the infection, gave suppers to slovenly philosophers who supplanted perfumed gallants, now obliged to borrow the language of their new rivals in approaching the morning toilet (hour of conversational rendezvous) or the gaudy evening saloon. Bertha, imbued with the self-sustained composure of a lady of fashion, tinctured with a due smattering of science, could find no neutral ground of intercourse with her cousin, where both might meet on equality; the other felt her own inferiority of manner, acquirements and deportment, yet retained a lively sense of superiority, whether real or supposed, in the native gifts of wit, energy and strong sense. Hence grew estrangement, which gave birth to rivalry and mutual pique-to encounters of angry raillery, half suppressed taunt and sneer. Melanie was the sharper wit, dealt the keenest blows, yet Bertha had the advantage in coolness and well preserved insensibility of manner. It was remarked she seldom commenced the attack, yet she took little pains to conciliate her kinswoman by concealing acquirements which originated jealousy and aversion. Perhaps the strongest incentive to Melanie's pique remains to be told. On Bertha's return, her cousin, as of old, unfolded all her little secrets, confidences, world, disposed to listen to the secrets of friends, averse to disclosing her own, having, as she averred, none to recount; nor could any art or skill which Melanie possessed, draw forth disclosure, or cause even the betrayal of momentary confusion. Euphrasia shared slightly the feelings of her sister, but being much younger, less exposed to rivalry, and more studious, she was rather an ally than confederate of Melanie. With St. Aubin, his daughter, strange to say, had lost much ground since her return from Paris. Formerly the idol of his affections, object of his fond, anticipative hope, she now redeemed her early promise manifold; but alas! for Bertha the degenerate! She spoke too coldly of the deceased king and queen, enshrined in her father's heart-too enthusiastically of the reigning French authorities, who had-regicides as they were-put France in an attitude of defence against the nations disposed to restore the exiled family, in a manner, and with a high-hearted courage, calculated to win the admiration of the world. The quick-witted Melanie saw the weak point, and ever cruelly contrived to turn Bertha's republican admiration to the worst construction in St. Aubin's eyes. But for these unhallowed sentiments of the daughter, which she was too honest or too proud to hide, and which the old loyalist could neither pardon nor forgive, Bertha would have been to him all, nay more, far dearer, than she ever had been, and Melanie lost the chance and the weapons to annoy. When the heiress of Chateau St. Aubin reached the terrace, her republican predilections were forgot ten in the admiration which she never failed to inspire in her father, after absence, however short, from home. About a year older than Melanie, she was her superior in height, with a glowing contour of form which had ravished all hearts in the Parisian saloons, features fit model for the sculptor's ideal, an eye which, whether beaming with delight, or melted to the saddest tenderness, equally inspired rapture-an arm and hand which drew regard even from the staid, reserved, punctilious Louis, of unfortunate memory. "And these fingers, Bertha," said the old man, caressing his daughter, "they are cut and stained! Why where hast been? Scrambling over rocks? And the 'kerchief, what does it contain?" Melanie's embroidery, which lay on the table, was displaced to make room for Bertha's collection, which consisted of mineral specimens gathered from the rocks, quarries and grottoes which skirted the park; these she had sufficient skill to arrange and classify for the cabinet, already richly stored by her industry and zeal. Melanie, with intention to manifest desire of renewing bonds of amity with Bertha, for the first time pretended much interest in mineralogy. Every specimen was successively examined, admired, classified. Conversation turned on scientific subjects, in the course of which St. Aubin lauded the Bourbons for their munificent protection | gone to Geneva, having been deputed by the gentry of science and its devotees. It was characteristic of and influential classes of the district-all partaking the old man, that be the subject of discourse what it aristocratic tendencies-to represent to the authorimight, he was sure, after a while, to associate it ties the secret danger which lurked in the neighborwith the Bourbons, or their cause. It was equally hood. There was every reason to believe that nightly remarkable, though more unaccountable, that on meetings were held by the Swiss democrats, doubtsuch occasions, Bertha seemed to feel it matter of less, assisted by French abettors, and that an outduty to applaud the present French government, or break might be expected to result. Even on the where applause was inconsistent, to apologize. That domain of St. Aubin, lights had been observed at her remarks were offensive, she could not but be night among the rocky dells which opened on the aware, nor could she wish to offend, as in every lake-boats passing and repassing long after hours other respect her conduct was marked by extreme of business or pleasure-torch beacons on neighborgentleness and reverential regard. If St. Aubin had ing heights-and on several occasions, fishermen repossessed more subtlety, he would have felt less sore pairing to the shore after nightfall, to set lines, or on account of his daughter's opposition; he would inspect the state of piscatory lures, had been dishave seen that it was void of animosity to the late turbed, as they described it, by tall figures wrapped court, where, indeed, Bertha had been a favorite, up in military cloaks. The inhabitants were afraid and was restricted to an apologetic tone in favor of to venture out at night, more especially, on or near the powers then existing. But why was Bertha their the lake, although previously it had been much the advocate? Though the father could not see the dis- fashion to glide over the quiet surface of the waters, tinction, and Melanie did not, or would not, yet the during the moonlit hours, enjoying the dulcet notes fact ought to have been more apparent, that the of the guitar, or sweeter voice of woman. Now daughter aimed only at removing the prejudices of these pastimes were hushed, fled. her parent. To this end, indeed, strove Bertha, and with an earnestness which, to a disinterested observer, inferred plainly, that to condemn the French government, or its proceedings, was to put the maiden on her trial. But whence the necessity of justification?-was she, the daughter of the loyal St. Aubin, linked with regicides? "But are you not aware, father," replied she, in answer to St. Aubin's laudation; "indeed, I am glad, that science is not forgotten even now? Money is yearly voted for the pursuit of researches in the East, and in South America-and the Count de Montmorenci-" "Is not that the gentleman who voted the abolition of all titles?" asked Melanie, coolly forgetting her late pledge. "Ah! the regicide-traitor-disgrace to an honored family!" exclaimed St. Aubin, letting fall a crystalization which he had been admiring, "name him not, Bertha. I regret your falling into such bad society in Paris! Even here, we are not safe from these traitorous republicans." Bertha started-betrayed a slight confusion-but perceiving her embarrassment did not pass unnoticed, exclaimed gaily "What new arrivals in Geneva? I have not yet heard the news, father! Has the bad society you speak of been driven to take refuge in Switzerland, and the emigrant army re-entered Paris?" "But we'll soon have our music parties again, ladies," said the gallant St. Aubin, whilst recounting the success of his mission; "Geneva sends a strong mounted force to patrol night and day, throughout the district. The lake shall be free as heretofore." "That will bring no change to Bertha," cried Melanie, looking significantly at her cousin-but remembering her promise, she stopped short. "You are jealous of Bertha's courage, Melanie," observed the old man. The remark was injudicious. "I jealous, uncle?" exclaimed the lady, reddening in anger; "do you call it courage, or madness, to remain by the lake till after dark, as Bertha did yester-even? We poor Genevese maidens own ourselves afraid of revolutionary brigands, whether French or Swiss, but a smart, Paris bred lady has no such fear." "But slight cause was there for fear," said Bertha, mildly, "for I never lost sight of protection. I always kept in view the windows of the saloon." 'There, now!" cried Euphrasia; "as though Monsieur Andelot or his cousin would have been in time for rescue, if a boat's crew had landed and carried you off!" "Were they here last night, Melanie?" asked St. Aubin, looking archly at his niece. "So it seems, uncle," replied the elder niece, smiling, as she picked up the fallen embroidery, and carried it into the saloon. Though Bertha's welltimed allusion to protection disarmed her fair foe, and she escaped further remark, yet her conduct was St. Aubin replied that that good news was yet to come. The party he alluded to was the disaffected of Switzerland, secretly encouraged by propagand-justly chargeable, in the particular referred to, with ists from France. The Helvetic States, forming a federative union, were governed by an aristocratic body, who feared republican principles as much as the French royalists; sympathy with Gallic revolu- | tionary progress had created a strong movement party in Switzerland, causing extreme anxiety to those who, like St. Aubin, abhorred innovation. 'Twas with a view to repress this spirit that he had eccentricity or extravagance. It was observed she was fond of solitary walks, even to the verge of propriety, and was not afraid, or at least showed no signs of fear, in strolling alone by moonlight, or even when that luminary was hidden, by the margin of the lake. It was attributed by the household and neighbors to desire of parading superior courage in contrast to her more timid cousins; nor did the |