companied alone by the rich swelling tones of This the people saw, and the revengeful glances which had been so liberally showered upon the bedizened courtiers now softened, while the gratefully-uttered whisper of "Maximiliano," which ran from one to the other, assured me of what I had already divined, viz., that this plainly-dressed personage was Maximilian of Austria! Of the train of magnificently-dressed ladies that followed I will speak but of one-the Archduchess-who, habited in a rich court-dress of crimson velvet and white satin, looked as lovely and regal as it is possible to look. Charlotte of Belgium, however, is not what might be termed strictly beautiful, but is, as the French have it, élégant-tout à fait élégant. With rich brown hair and hazel eyes-those sure tokens of amiability-she has yet more the appearance, or rather, I should say, the evidences, of having been educated at a court than any other royal lady that I have ever seen. She is every inch a princess, and her queenly head that day needed no herald to proclaim its royal birth, nor the dazHere intervened a space when a mass of gen- zling crown of precious stones which surmounterals, field-marshals, courtiers, etc., appeared-ed it to give it majesty; for even as it disapall dressed in the rich uniforms of their several peared up the grand stairway, among the sculpranks, and their breasts literally blazing with tured arches of the palace, did it bespeak its jeweled "orders" and "decorations." Among own high origin. them walked the famous Lieutenant Field-Marshal Goritzzuti, the military governor of the city-one whose character is of iron, and who neither gives nor expects mercy. He it was, who, when during the last Italian campaign, the Venetians had sought to gain the upper hand and failed-replied, in his rude and broken Italian, in answer to their prayers that he would not bombard their beautiful city. Venete bon, Io bon; Venete non bon, Io bomb, bomb, bomb.— "If Venice is good, I'll be good; but if Venice is not good, I'll bomb, bomb, bomb." Bad Italian as it was it was understood, and Venice was "good." A tall, light, graceful figure followed the stern marshal-a space being reserved about him so that he walked alone. Slenderly yet compactly built, a frame neither enervated by luxury nor broken by dissipation, he was commanding yet modest. Fresh-complexioned, with a broad and noble forehead-his deep blue eyes somewhat thoughtful but kindly-the only feature which might possibly prevent his being termed eminently fine-looking was his mouth, which partook of the character of the Hapsburgs. But even that, though heavy, was agreeably and sweetly-formed, with an expression of nobility and magnanimity. Dressed in the plain, dark-blue uniform of the Austrian navy, while all about him were covered with the tinsel insignia of rank, he alone was without ornament, while, with one hand thrust carelessly in the half-unbuttoned breast of his uniform, he appeared neither to delight in the mummery which a stupid custom had prescribed, nor to be paying attention to the forms accompanying it, but regarded it rather as a necessity which must be gone through with. So the procession had passed-without one single word of approbation on the part of the populace, except that grateful mutter of "Maximiliano." Alas, how fearful is the hate for Austria, and how blind! What, then, must have been the merits of a prince who, being of the hated race, has yet succeeded in winning their esteem, if not their love? Maximilian of Austria has indeed been a blessing to the Italian people. He has obtained more than one amnesty for them, and bid return to their homes those whom tyrannous subordinates had caused to fly from wives and children dear. In doing this, too, it was not his nature to seek the praise or glorification of the world, but rather to conceal the good he had done. The grateful swell of the returned exile's bosom, as he clasped in his arms the loved ones from whom he had been so long and so cruelly separated-the tearful blessings of the wife, or mother, or sisters, as they clung convulsively to the form of him who was more than life to them these were the tributes that he loved the best, and that he sought alone. One of the prince's pet projects for the improvement of the city of Venice, as the sea-port of his vice-regal dominion, was the cutting of a canal, direct from Malamoco through the different islands of the Lagoon, up to the city proper. This was to have accommodated vessels of the largest class, and was conducted and supported entirely by his private purse. As it was likely to be a tedious task, he had ordered the canals already existing to be cleaned, so as to admit vessels of 2000 tons being moored alongside the quays. This had been accomplished, and great was the joy of the Venetians thereat. He sent to the leader of the band to obtain a copy arranged for the piano. That evening it was left at the palace. The prince, well-satisfied, sent the man a present, but with it a receipt-book, to obtain his acknowledgment of its actual reception-thus obviating the difficulty under which the snuff-boxes, diamond-rings, etc., of the Russian princes sometimes labor. Nine-tenths of them, it is said, never reach their destinations." While this work was going on Maximilian | prince was at a window listening. One of the was every where. Supervising this, overseeing pieces, a little Hungarian air, struck his fancy. that. Making every thing go right, and watching that the work was conducted honestly and economically. His little black gondoline (without ornament or designation of rank) was to be seen every where. One day this light boat came into collision with a large one, bearing a number of working-men. It went crashing through the bow of the larger and apparently stronger boat, consigning its cargo of living freight to the swift tide of the Lagoon. The prince would have plunged instantly to their aid, had he not been restrained by his followers. Nor did his care cease until he had seen them deposited in safety. Kindly guarded with warm garments from the fatal effects of the malaria, for it was in the winter season, and a proper donation, "buona mano, ," with which to drink his health. One little child, who had been in the boat, the prince carried away with him-wrapping it in his own cloak, and not leaving it until it was deposited with numerous gold-pieces in its mother's lap. Indeed, in his business way of doing things Maximilian is any thing but Austrian; and in many respects his feelings and habits are more those of an American, evinced, among other things, by his fondness for fast traveling. He is very fond of our nation, and never does he show to such advantage as when in conversation with one of our countrymen. His admiration for every thing that is noble; for the great principles of self-government; for the strength of mind that dares to think and feel differently from the great mass of ordinary mortals, attracts him, apparently, to our people. I have seen him before now, with some stickler for rank and precedent, quite ill at ease, scarce able to say a word. But the moment his look turned to an American face it assumed a different expression, and he spoke warmly and well-making his conversation so interesting that one would rather hear him talk than to talk one's self, and producing his arguments with an honest conviction that assured his listener even more than his words. In ordinary times the Archduke goes about in citizen's dress. A plain black or dark-blue suit, cut apparently after a manner of his own, neither quite in nor quite out of the fashion. And on this occasion the poor mother never suspected for a moment that the plainly-dressed gentleman, who had so kindly brought her back her child, was "Maximiliano." She therefore treated him throughout as a "Signor Inglese;" and as such proffered him the hospitality of her poor house, which was freely accepted, and it was not until long afterward that she learned One of his particular favorites was a wellthat it was the Viceroy, and brother of her Em-known gentleman of New York, Mr. Gilbert, peror, that she had entertained. The Archduke's gondoline was, whenever its master was in Venice, a conspicuous object. Darting here and there, it seemed always on the go; while every morning, regularly, it was to be seen gliding swiftly in the direction of the Arsenal, where a noble frigate, the Dandolo, was being built. "When," said one of his aids-de-camp to me one day, "his Imperial Highness goes away satisfied, which is very seldom the case, we feel that we need bother ourselves no longer; for you may depend upon it, every bolt is then in its right place." "Is he, then, so very observing ?" I asked, "I have always understood that it was comparatively easy to deceive a prince. That is, if his followers wish to deceive him." who was building a floating dry-dock for the Austrian Government. To this gentleman, who enjoyed frequently and unreservedly his confidence and hospitality, I might appeal, were any corroboration necessary of my correct appreciation of the prince's character. I have dwelt somewhat at length, perhaps, upon traits of character that at first might appear insignificant, from the fact that I hold it all-important that the American people should know correctly and thoroughly one whom Destiny seems about to set down, as it were, by their side. This is the more important since it will remain with them to say whether they will live at peace with their new neighbor or not. One thing is certain, the new Emperor will not be the one to create differences with a people whom he respects and admires. It is not so with Max. His eye takes in every thing. He sees more than any man I Laying aside all questions, then, as to the deever knew; and with his quiet and sarcastic sire of the Mexicans for a monarchy, those who way points it out and waits until it is corrected. know Maximilian may safely avow, that if a forAs for telling him a lie, I don't believe there eign prince is to be imposed upon them, no is a man living who would dare to do so. He more conscientious man, no better neighbor could would detect it in a minute. Another peculiar- have been selected. Let us then hope that we, ity," continued the aid, "which he possesses, is as we assuredly shall, will find a friend in him; to see that all his orders are duly executed. In that the Mexican people may yet find beneath this matter he trusts no one-not even his his mild sway and liberal government those nearest friends. For instance, you remember blessings which long years of anarchy and bloodthe music on the piazza last Sunday? The shed have as yet failed to produce. TRIED AND TRUE. Valenciennes lace. A white verbena, carelessly fastened amidst the superabundant braids of [OONTIDE among the gold and russet her shining light hair, was the only ornament heights Charming the misty mountains that outlined the horizon -noontide among the water-courses, where fallen leaves floated silently by, and tall goldenrods waved their fiery torches along the edge of tangled hollows. Ah! was there ever sunshine so clear and glorious as that which walks the meadow-slopes of the radiant Indian summer, with the trailing drapery of shadow following ever close behind? than she looked, thus attired, it would be rather difficult to imagine. All of a sudden she paused in her quick, impatient walk up and down the shady path-the rosy blood fluttered up to her cheek, and instantly ebbed again, leaving a settled pallor; and she advanced to the wicket-gate as the quick, sharp ring of a horse's feet echoed along the quiet country road. Almost the next minute the horse himself was checked at the gate, and a young man, with dark, sparkling eyes, and hair all blown about in black the reins over an iron ring that depended from one of the sturdy old maples that fringed the road for miles in that direction. "Well, Nelly?" The trembling tide of light was just rippling across the "noon-mark" on the kitchen floor; and a garrulous old clock which stood upright in the corner of the hall beyond, talking to it-wavy curls by hard riding, dismounted, and flung self in muffled monosyllables, all day long, had confirmed the noon-mark's report with twelve short, sharp strokes. You would not have believed how silver-sweet that bell had once been, when the gigantic pine-tree that overshadowed the porch was but a sapling, and people, long since passed into the melodious hearing of Heaven's own cathedral bells, were wakened, in the morning of their lives, by its tocsin. The old clock's day and generation were over; yet there it stood, undisturbed, until such time as it might graciously please to fall in pieces of its own accord. Its dusty dial might almost have brightened up spontaneously, however, as a light footstep crossed the hall, and a quick glance sought the position of the hour and minute hands. "Twelve o'clock, and he is not here yet. He will not come to-day. I am glad of it-no, I'm rather sorry, on the whole. I should like to tell him how I scorn his pusillanimous conduct!" And Ellen Tracey, pacing up and down the flower-edged foot-path that led from the gray stone steps to a white gate, trellised over with dense-growing honey-suckles, bit her scarlet lip and set the small pearly teeth beneath it close together. The two words of greeting were spoken with a bright eagerness that betokened almost a certainty of welcome. But Mistress Nelly did not respond; she merely inclined her pretty head with cool courtesy. Charles Warrener's countenance fell with instantaneous revulsion. "You have heard all, Nelly?" I have heard all, Mr. Warrener." "What have you heard, Nelly?-tell me." "I have heard," said Nelly, speaking so quietly that the white verbena in her golden hair was not even stirred, although there was a whirlwind of contending emotions within her bosom, "that, after offering Paul Carlyle a gross insult, Charles Warrener has not sufficient manliness to take the consequences of his conduct -that he refuses to accept the challenge sent by Mr. Carlyle, and-" "Stop, Nelly," interposed Warrener, pale and resolute. "Hear my version of this village 'nine days' wonder' before you judge and condemn me. Paul Carlyle made assertions which could only be pardoned by the fact that he was at a college dinner-party, and had, perhaps, taken more wine than he was aware of. I denied the truth of those random statements, as every man should have done who lays claim to the title of gentle What is more, I proved their utter lack of foundation. And now, when Carlyle, in a fit of boyish vindictiveness, attempts to revive the obsolete usages of the dueling ground, as a sort of salvo to his wounded dignity, it merely remained to me to decline, utterly and entirely." Now there's no earthly use trying to describe Ellen Tracey, reader ! Did you ever plod through any description, however highlywrought, that gave you the least idea of how a pretty woman really looked in her flesh-and-man. blood loveliness? Of course you never did; and so where would be the advantage of our wasting pen, ink, and paper in telling you of the blue eyes and dazzling blonde hair that set all the susceptible young men, for miles around, wild about Ellen Tracey? Just picture to yourself a lovely village belle of eighteen, fresh as a lily, with dimpled cheeks like the velvet sides of a ripe, crimson peach, and full of bewitching little ways which women-never very accurate judges of their own sex-call "affected" and men fall down and worship, and you will have a pretty clear idea of Judge Tracey's beautiful daughter. Her dress was simple French calico, of a pink color, fastened at the taper waist with rose-colored ribbon, and relieved at the throat and wrists by pearly edgings of "Of course," said Nelly, with ironical emphasis. "But why not put it at once on its true grounds?" "True grounds! I do not understand you." Nelly fixed her blue eyes full on his face and answered, in tones of slow, concentrated scorn: "Why not confess at once that you dare not meet him—that you are a coward ?” "Nelly! Nelly!" he exclaimed, clasping his hand to his heart as if struck by a deadly wound, "you know me better than that. You know that personal courage has nothing to do with the course of conduct I have adopted. How "Yes. I will not apologize to Carlyle; for I can bring proofs that he is wrong and I am right in the matter which has given rise to all this strange bitterness of feeling. Neither will I meet him on the field of unholy and deadly strife. In these two resolutions I am fixed. I shall abide by them at all risks and hazards. But, Ellen, surely you will not misconstrue my motives ?" "It is unfortunate," said Ellen, quietly disengaging her dress from a clinging rose-brier beyond, "that the world in general views this matter in the same light as myself—namely, as an egregious exhibition of cowardice. You shrink, Mr. Warrener: perhaps you find the word unpleasant; but it is the only one which can characterize your conduct. But don't let me detain you any longer in this intense sun. Good-by, Sir!" "Nelly-one word more!" when he rode through the quiet streets of Belknap that evening on his homeward way he was calm and cheerful as ever-at least in so far as outward observation could detect. Surgeons tell us that there are slow, secret poisons that, while they drain one's life away, leave no external traces of their fatal depredations. Is there no analogy between the poisons that sap the foundations of the body and those that work even more mysteriously upon the heart? What Charles Warrener endured during the next few months in petty slights, cutting innuendoes, cold looks, and all the other numberless ways this amiable world has of signifying its scorn and disapproval, none ever knew save himself and God. But he did endure it, and without complaint. The winter snows had melted away from the brown shoulders of those grand everlasting old hills that held the village of Belknap in their midst, as if it had been no more than a baby's toy of painted church-spires and wooden houses; the slender-stemmed anemones were beginning to gleam along the course of woodland brooks, and the wild March sunsets grew warmer in their tints of fire and gold with every lengthenPerhaps she did not hear the appealing sen- ing day. Spring was coming, and the patriottence at all events she went on, not even turn-ic heart of Belknap, beating in unison with the ing her haughty young head. Up the broad stone steps she passed, the sunshine glinting on As Charles Warrener walked hastily down the her golden braids of hair and fluttering roseate village street, in the stormy brightness of one of dress, and disappeared, like a fair vision, from these March evenings, Deacon Jackson hailed the yearning eyes that followed her. And there him from the much- worn wooden steps of a remained only the sighing canopy of the black- thriving store, where collars and crockery, newsgreen pine, and the idle shimmer of the noon-papers and camphene, mouse-traps and molaslight, playing its fantastic freaks on the floor of the solitary lonely hall; for it had never seemed so solitary, so lonely in all the years he had been familiar with it. For one moment Charles Warrener's head drooped upon the arched neck of the faithful steed beside him, who, instinctively mistrusting that something was wrong, laid his nose wistfully on his master's shoulder, with a little halfhuman sound of sympathy. But it was only for a moment that he gave way; and then he mounted his horse and rode slowly down the road, with pale, rigid features, and eyes that saw naught of the world of sunshine and greenery that lay bathed in summer light and glow around him. pulses of the whole aroused North, was all astir. ses, together with other Yankee notions innumerable, were retailed with strict impartiality. The Deacon was standing there, polishing his silver-bowed spectacles with a red silk pockethandkerchief, and staring fixedly toward the wooded hills, now all crimson with maple-blos soms; but it is highly probable that the Deacon never saw the rosy flush of bloom. What cared Deacon Jackson for Nature, except in so far as she helped his corn and potatoes along with her mysterious crucibles of sun and shower? Not a whit. "Wa'al, Mr. Warrener-I s'pose I'd ought to say Cap'n," began the Deacon, with a facetious chuckle-"it's actilly true, then, that you're raisin' a company o' men for the war?" "I believe I may answer for the truth of the report, Deacon," returned Warrener, laughing. "I hope you entertain no doubt of the fact." "Oh-well-I don't know!" said the Deacon, "All over!" he muttered, scarcely conscious that he was speaking half aloud, in a smothered voice, strangely unlike his natural tones; "all -all over! It is fortunate now that we never were formally engaged. Ellen is free, and I-giving a final rub to the spectacles and depositWell, I have but to live on and endure. The ing them with great deliberation on the bridge ald minister of my boyhood used to say that no of his nose. "I kind o' didn't fairly believe it man could ever be utterly, irreclaimably miser- at fust!" able who knew himself to be blameless in the sight of Heaven, and yet-" Warrener tooped his head abruptly: perhaps it was to avoid the low descending boughs of a birch-tree that leaned over the road, perhaps to brush a momentary mist from his vision. But "Why not?" questioned Warrener, turning abruptly round, with a red spot glowing on his cheek. "Wa'al, you see, because"-began the worthy Deacon, tapping desperately at the lid of his snuff-box, as if he expected some hidden magician to issue therefrom, and help him out with the awkward sentence-"folks didn't expect you was just the kind o' man to go into any such dangerous business!" "It is not the first time, then, that 'folks' in this part of the world have been signally mistaken!" returned Warrener, who had by this time quite recovered his composure. "I trust I am not the kind of man' to shrink from duty, even though it lay at the cannon's mouth!" times he had lingered at the wicket-gate, under the watching eyes of those same stars, with Ellen at his side. Ah, it was useless to recur to those old times now; he knew it, and felt it, and yet-we human creatures are curiously constituted-when was there an hour in which he did not recur to them? Recur to them with a sick yearning, like that of the captive for his native land, the desert-bound for a draught of cool water! Charles Warrener, unfortunately for his own peace of mind, was not one of those happy individuals who fall in love and fall out again, as a child takes the measles. It was "once and forever" with the big heart that beat under his army buttons. Hush! there was the sudden metallic "click" of the little wicket-latch borne distinctly to his ears in the clear, cloudless atmosphere of the June evening, and Warrener reined his horse "That's what I always said!" ejaculated the Deacon, flourishing his red-silk handkerchief in the air; "and if I was a young man, 'stead of bein' sixty year old and bent double with rheumatiz, I'd go 'long with you quicker'n smoke. And I tell you what, Cap'n Warrener, your company's fillin' up 'nough sight faster than that feather-headed young Carlyle's. I'm glad of it, too, for I always liked you best, even when ahem!" and the Deacon buried his embarrassment in the convenient folds of the pocket-hand-back into the woodland obscurity of leaves and kerchief, and struck out on a new tack. "And that's what I says to my darter, Mary 'Liza, when she told me t'other day that Carlyle was engaged to Ellen Tracey, the Judge's pretty darter, up on the hill. Says I, Mary 'Liza-" "Pardon me, Deacon Jackson," interposed Warrener, "but it is growing late, and I have a long walk still before me. Good-evening, and many thanks for your good opinion." He bowed laughingly and walked away. The Deacon stared after him with wide-open gray eyes, twin orbs of surprise. ""Tain't so! I told Mary 'Liza there wa'n't a word o' truth in that story 'bout his bein' so all-fired fond of Ellen Tracey!" was the Deacon's internal comment. "If he had cared for her, he never'd ha' took the news so easy!" Excellent reasoning, good Deacon Jackson, but deficient in one slight link. Ellen Tracey's recent betrothal to Paul Carlyle happened to be no news to Captain Warrener. "I hope she will be happy," he said to himself, repressing the sighing sob that welled up from his heart as he walked thoughtfully on. "And yet I am not altogether certain of it. Am I growing jealous of my handsome rival?" he asked, mentally, with a bitter smile. "No —let me judge him fairly, even though he has blighted my whole life's happiness. There are many good and noble traits in his nature, and if he loves and cherishes her, as he can not help doing, they will doubtless be very happy. Oh, Nelly, Nelly! I little thought when we were all in all to each other that my life's jewel should be worn upon Paul Carlyle's breast!" shadows with instinctive rapidity. It was Paul Carlyle, who like himself was to depart on the morrow, saying a last "good-by" to the woman who was one day-God willing-to be his wife. And Warrener sat there, cold and silent as a statue, until Carlyle cantered by, on his highmettled charger, whistling a lively refrain, and disappeared along the curve of the star-lighted road. "Gone!" he murmured, "gone, in all the flush and pride of his great happiness! I must see her once again. I know it is wrong and foolish, but my heart is hungry and athirst for one last look!" With an impulse too strong to be resisted, he set spurs to his horse, and rode to the old familiar spot where Ellen was yet lingering and watching, while the diamond betrothal ring gleamed with white, fitful radiance on the forefinger of the little hand that held the fleecy folds of the blue Shetland shawl around her throat. "Paul! is it you, once more?" she exclaimed, in tones whose joyous welcome cut to his jealous heart like a knife, as he sprang from his horse and came up to the gate. "No, it is I, Nelly, come to bid you farewell before we are off to Dixie," he said, in a voice which he strove to render something like composed. "You will say good-by, won't you?" "Willingly, Captain Warrener!" and she gave him both her hands with a frank, kind smile. He shrank from the touch of Carlyle's betrothal ring. "Think of us sometimes when we are gone, Nelly!" he said, earnestly: "pray for us; such prayers as yours should work us good. Ah, I see in your eyes that they will not be wanting.” It was the night before the ―th regiment marched from Belknap-clear and beautiful, with a soft wind sweet with the breath of honey- "Paul is in the same regiment with you?" suckle and wild roses, and a sky all sown with she asked, hesitatingly, while the color went and innumerable stars. And Charles Warrener, rid-came like crimson shadows on her cheek. ing in the fragrant shadow of the dewy woods, looked up at the red brick chimneys of Judge Tracey's substantial old house, with the sentinel pine towering above, sharply outlined against the violet sky, and thought of the many, many He nodded. "I have heard," she went on, unconsciously turning the sparkling stone round and round on her finger, "that you are a favorite with Colonel Seabrook ?" |