Page:New Peterson magazine 1845.pdf/10

 2 the marble figure bent toward her with a benign smile on its beautiful features.

But a hand at that moment was laid upon his shoulder, and the beautiful voice of his host was heard, exclaiming—‘asleep, Rudolph! What are you dreaming about? Why don’t you follow the ladies to supper?” He rubbed bis eyes—was it indeed a dream. The mirror was still there; but ho did not dare to look in it as he passed.

“Come, Rudolph,” said his host, as he approached the table, “take this seat between my niece and me, and let mo introduce you to each other—Miss Lucy Courtland, Mr. Werner.”

If our hero and his interesting neighbor bad not exactly ‘the feast of reason,” they shared at least ‘the flow of soul;” for they were friends in ten minutes, and before the fourth course was removed, had confided to each other all their pet plans and most profound secrets. Some writer has said, “it is the peculiar charm of frankness thet it calls mind in contact with mind, and does the work of years.” And Rudolph and Julia, (as their mamas and elder sisters called them,) were both as artless and candid as children; for neither of therm bad been long enough in what is ealled tho gay world to fearn that early lesson of its votaries, how to hide with a dezzling smile the involuntary tear, and to veil with light and careless words the deep emotions of the heart.

“Fair as a being of heavenly birth, But loving and loved as a child of the earth.” If Lucy Courtland did not shine the “star of stars” ot the festival, she was the ‘flower of flowers” at home; and as Rudolph became more acquainted with her, he caught many a glimpse of the beautiful vision which had been once reflected in the soul mirror.

Lucy had a fidgety father—a manoeuvring mother—a selfish sister, and a bear of a brother. Yet she moved above the discord like a halcyon on the deep, and calmed the troubled waves and smoothed "the raven down of darkness till it smiled.”

“Lucy,” said bor father, ‘don’t be eternally reading that confounded poetry '-Can’t you find something sensible, child?”

Lucy Inid down her book and took up the newspaper. ‘Shall I resd you the deaths and marriages, father?” she asked, with an arch emile dimpling her delicate cheek, and playing stealthily through her long, drooped lashes.

there’s a good girl.”
 * Yes, and the marine intelligence too, Lucy—

And Lucy read her father to sleep.

“Lu!” said her sister Helen, “why can’t you let me wear that bird to-night? You have so much hair you don’t need any ornament in it.”

And Lucy cheerfully took the golden humming bird, with diamond crest and emerald wings, from the rich, dark braids in which it nestled, and with which it contrasted so beautifully, like “a star in the midnight heaven,” and placed it with her own, gentle hands in the scanty, red locks of her sister.

“Lulu,” said Mrs. Courtland in her blandest tone, “if that young Werner presumes to ask you, to dance tonight, yon will certainly refuse—will you not, my love?”

The tears trembled in Lulu’s dark blue eyes as she murmured,

“Yes, mamma.”

“Luce!” said the bear, “do leave off squalling that stupid love-song, and sing something worth hearing—can’t you? Sing the ‘Rover's Barcarole,”

And Luce stopped short in the very first line of “Teach, ob! Teach me to Forget!” and sang in her best bravo style.

“THE ROVER'S BARCAROLLE.” How gaily o'er the waters stole The Rover's ringing barcarolle, ‘While every wave that sparkled round Seemed dancing to the joyous sound!

Give her sail to the breeze and her prow to the wave! ‘Though she toss like a toy, still the tempest we'll brave, And the wilder the wind is the greater our glee; For danger is dear to the “Rover at nea!”

Yes! sofily o'er the waters stole The Rover's ringing barcarolle, While every wave that eparkled round Seemed dancing to the joyous sound!

Oh! well have we named her the Cygnet, my boy! For she breasts the wild waves like bird in her joy, With her white wings unfurled, fail of grace and of glee, She glides in her glory—a queen on the sea!

Still faintly o'er the waters stole The Rover's ringing barcarolle, While every sunlit wave around Seemed dancing to the joyous sound!

Look look! ‘tis a sail! 'tis a foe! and in chase! Hurra! let them come! all their fury we'll face. Let our flag wave defiance!—the flag of the free! For our swift-winged “Cygnet” is queen of the sea!

“Luce, you're a real, good gitt—if you'll look on your dressing-table, you'll find some wild flowers, which I picked for you this afternoon.” The bear was a lamb to Lucy! CHAPTER III. Oh! gaily fled the langhing hours, For Love, with fettered wings, in play, ‘Was pelting them with fragrant flowers, And singing, “Still delay!” "You are looking at the magic mirror, Rudeli,”" �