was driven from the door-Crash! what was y plate of iron inside, in consequence of the dis- "What is it?" shrieked a voice of anguish. "Oh, it's nothing, nothing," replied another, a composedly, (it was the voice of Mr. Fixbury.) "it is only a little carved oak bracket fallen; the clock is, fortunately, in safety, inside the vehicle." when thus torn from her home, she went soon to that which is held on a far longer lease, is doubtful. The only thing positive is, that a few months after the removal, when Mr. Fixbury paid a visit of business to his old quarters, I observed there was a crape upon his hat; and yet it must be acknowledged that he looked unusually cheerful. * * * * F Mr. and Mrs. Crossworth, when they took wi possession of the apartment, over whose extent, by eye and ear I hold observant sway, had been, -married too long to have nothing to talk about when sitting together after dinner, and yet not long enough to have found out the unprofitable subjects. They started off in conversation without thinking of the conflicting points, and floated down the tide unconscious of its treachery. Visiting nobody, nobody visited her; a happy, a most essential consequence; for what in the name of all her goods and chattels could she have done with visitors? Company would have crushed her with dire affliction for her furniture. Ordinary folks have fine things about them for others to see; Mrs. Fixbury's pleasure The gentleman was thirty and plain, the lady was to look at them herself. It was her own dear was twenty-three and pretty. He had an auhome, and she was always so fond of it-she did stere, cold look, that but half concealed some enjoy that! At forty years of age she was warmth of feeling underneath; she had a lanknown, where known at all, as The Domestic-guishing and amiable air,-yet that seemed to ated; or, the Woman who never went Out. Yet out she was doomed to go at length, for a removal to a different quarter of the town became indispensable, and Mr. Fixbury was ruthless on the score of furniture and fixtures. give token of a spirit not incapable, upon occasion, of flashing and proving formidable. There was something of melancholy about his mouth, and a careless smile upon hers. 6. "I have been thinking a good deal, Charre-lotte," said Mr. Crossworth, about that poor family in Kent, who applied to you yesterday." Heavens, what a morning was that of the moval! When the van, with a suspicious looking set of springs, drew up at the door, any body would have supposed that it was a hearse come to know if Mrs. Fixbury was ready. A world of sighs escaped her as rude hands lifted her cherished chattels, and horrid fingers smeared her shining goods-handling all things, not as humanity gently touches living objects which it loves, but as surgeons knock about dry bones that have no feeling. Here was a rug tossed upon damask-curtains, there a bit of Dresden peeping out of a coal-skuttle. In her pale, thin face there was a presentiment of evil. She was like a sensitive plant being torn up by the roots. This was not removing; it was being dragged away. As she saw the several objects of her many years of household pride carried one by one down the stairs, the hopes of life vanished with them in quick succession. She followed each favorite with her eyes, and heard it pitched into the large van with the suspicious springs. The presentiment of evil darkened more and more in her visage. As the place was cleared, left lone and naked, and the first load of moveables | "Dear me, Charles," returned Mrs. Crossworth, rather quickly, "what an eminently disagreeable subject to turn your after-dinner thoughts upon!" "It is painful, certainly; the weather threatens to be terribly severe, and before they lose their little cottage-" "Now, I must entreat, Charles, that you will not go one step further upon that ground, or you will bring a whole troop of starved and frozen sufferers, the most horrid picture of want and misery imaginable, directly before my mind's eye. I shall see it all in a moment-infant in arms, and white-haired grandmother included. You know how susceptible I am. Take your wine and be at peace." Melancholy more plainly marked the drawndown corners of Mr. Crossworth's mouth, and at the corners of his eyes, moreover, the faintest of all conceivable reproaches peeped out. "But, Charlotte," he said, gently, "something must be done !” "Very well, Charles, then do it; but do not I pray, under cover of the purest humanity, have |ness, sorrow in its hundred shapes-want, nathe cruelty to distress me by conjuring up so kedness, hunger-the sharp struggle with miseshocking a spectacle. I always observe that ry, and the last horrid writhing under its onvery tender people are apt to be very hard upon ward rolling wheels-these excited not her pity, those they love. Because their own kind hearts not merely her impatience, but her very hate! are bleeding at a tale of sorrow, they must "Of all things I hate sights of woe!" "Do thrust daggers into the kind hearts of their not speak to me about distress, for I detest it!" friends. If you find the subject so very painful, These were phrases familiar to her beautiful how barbarous of you to introduce it when I was lips as smiles themselves. Selfishness never indulging in a thousand happy thoughts. Drink spoke more expressively. It was so easy to de- your wine, Charles, do!" cide beforehand upon the incapacity to relieve; The gay smile with which this was uttered and that done, the wretchedness that sought redid not communicate itself to those lips which, lief was just as easily dismissed. When the nevertheless, obediently sipped the suggested languid, amiable Charlotte had (without the glass, and Mr. Crossworth, gravely and tender- least difficulty) persuaded herself that it was ly, in a voice sometimes tremulous with the perfectly impossible for such a hand as hers benevolent feeling that prompted his words, ever to lessen by one feather's weight the heavy, proceeded to explain that he mentioned the and too often the intolerable burden of mortal melancholy matter to her because to her the ap-misery, she had become quite convinced of her peal had been made-that he mentioned it just exemption from the necessity of keeping it in then, because whatever was done must be re-view, or recognizing by thought, sigh, or word, solved upon that very night. He could not its ever-present existence. think of allowing her to contribute, in however And that such calculating coldness of soul slight a degree; though he owned that charity should be neighbored by such rich and lively in this case was a costlier virtue than he could blood! That such marble hardness should often afford to indulge. But the case was one of hold so soft a seat! That such insensibility roofless famished misery, and he avowed that should be so full of life! That one who cared the tug at his heart-strings had torn his purse-so little for others, should have a form to win strings asunder too - and thus his sympathy homage from all! and his money both flowed out together. Mrs. Crossworth said in reply that the case was far too prodigiously disagreeable to be contemplated. She would rather that Charles should pay much than say even a little. Such distresses were not meant to be talked of-she could not bear to think of them. She always hated these real life tragedies; and would infinitely rather give, if she could spare it, ten times the sum asked for, than listen to a doleful petition. Her system was to keep on the sunny side of things, and never to distress herself but for some good reason. If she could relieve the wretched narrator of his woes-that would be quite another thing. If her sighs were balm, her tears diamonds, the poor man should have them in plenty; but why inflict wounds upon herself when she could not heal his! Why listen, when she could only lament! She detested all gratuitous disagreeables, and her heart was closed against them for ever! Mr. Crossworth when he had shut the door, returned to the table, and having poured out a glass of wine, looked as though some such reflections as the above were passing silently in his mind. But he speedily filled his glass again, and as rapidly emptied it: indeed this ceremony was repeated somewhat eagerly several times; and then, during a pause, his thoughts appeared to be slowly undergoing a revolution. Sadness and severity had vanished from his face, his eye brightened, and his brow was visibly lighter. He seemed to meditate yet more cheerfully, and refilled his glass. "Who knows," he muttered, as he set it down empty; "Charlotte's system may be the right one after all! There is nothing like a second thought. Charity is expensive; and, by the way, the wine-merchants-the unconscionable rogues-are not so easily paid in these times. One must have a check upon one's luxuries in some direction or other-and, by Jove! a man can better do without benevolence than without port." The wine was again raised between his eye and the light. It seemed to warm his brain, as cooled his heart. And then, as though her heart were indeed closed to pity, whose gentle dews had fallen there and found all barren-as though by an effort of the will the spirit could revel in an unfading summer, and all the frosts of life be dis-it sipated by the magic of a smile-she rose from the table, and quitting the room, turned the most laughing, mocking look possible upon the displeased though polite husband, who held the door open for her as she skipped giddily by. "If this costly piece of folly, which would really be sheer ostentation, and rank injustice to myself, is to be done at all, to-night the undertaking must be given by which the cottage is secured to the-how many shall I say?-just Here then was a sorrowful, a sickening spec- half a dozen poor wretches, out of the millions tacle! Youth, loveliness, a lively temper, a who are at this moment not merely beyond help, quick sense of pleasure, charms to fascinate, the but beyond hope! What a farce is this benevocapacity to enjoy-grace, spirit, gaiety, and lence of ours after all! Here am I troubling brightness of the blood-all suddenly obscured, my inmost soul about the fate of six drops of crushed, buried under an insensibility hard as a sorrow, while the great ocean of misery rages rock; a crust of selfishness, like thick-ribbed unappeased and boundless. Dry up those six ice! How hideous she looked with her sweet, drops, and where is the difference? The world happy face. Yes-this was her theory, and her will wear the same look to-morrow; though my practice strictly conformed to it. Suffering, sick-shrunk coffers assuredly will not. No, but a very different one, indeed! Crossworth," he deed, had she branded herself as criminal, had continued, addressing himself with a smile her sins been of a more active nature, inflicting bright as the bumper he eyed admiringly, "you grievous injury where she owed benefits, and are a good fellow, but you must learn to control betraying a headlong and passionate disposition your generous propensities. You cannot afford to work evil to mankind, out of a feeling of jeal these extravagancies of the heart." ousy or revenge-some excuse might have been found for her, some forbearance have been shown. As it was, I would rather the room had been empty; such a pretty, graceful thing, so young, and with the amiability of youth in her looks-and yet so hopelessly selfish, unsympathizing, and frozen in heart! Mr. Crossworth then, closing his soliloquy, sprang up from his solitary revel, and having taken a stride or two across the room, with the manner of one who is satisfied that he has just done a wise thing, and is at least as virtuous amidst all his iniquities as mankind in general, rang for coffee. With the cups, re-entered Mrs. Crossworth. Husband and wife were equally in a happy humor. They sipped, smiled, and chatted. Controversy had fled the scene; all unpleasant topics were avoided; not a word was said about the hungry and the homeless; not a thought of human pain, human fortitude, human selfishness, and tyranny, intruded; they were all in all to each other; and the world was to them a scene which no pauper-dwellings darkened, and in whose ordinary public paths no graves gaped for the destitute and wandering poor. Mr. Crossworth was to go out, Mrs. Crossworth was to amuse herself at home. This was pleasantly settled between them, and tender adieus were interchanged. "Adieu, Charlotte! Then for three whole hours, if I choose to stay so long, I am to desert you, and be forgiven!" "Ah, Charles!" answered his pretty wife, playfully; "reflect upon what you are doing. You are deserting Faith and Hope (united in poor me) for Charity." "No, 'faith!" returned Mr. Crossworth, moving off; "I have declined, at least deferred, that melancholy affair, and am merely going to see a famous pantomime which they have just brought out at the theatre-it is called 'Mother Goose!" Half an hour had elapsed, and she sat reading on in silence, rapidly at times, and in some excitement. I watched the play of her countenance, which I now saw was variously expressive, and indeed almost explained the course of the story as she read! Her excitement increased, and my interest grew with it. At times there was a bright glow upon her face--presently she was sad and pale. Prepared for the fire, I had not expected the softness of her aspect, the tender pity of her eyes. Soon her bosom heaved with its emotions-her little hands trembled as they turned the page-her cheeks brightened, and from her parted lips the breathing came quick and murmuringly; then, by imperceptible degrees, a more tranquil feeling crept over her; her heart still throbbed, but not violently; pity in place of terror and anguish touched her soul; her eyes traced the lines less clearly, and tears fell glitteringly upon the page. The volume dropped upon her lap; she covered her face with her hands and sobbed-fairly sobbed. With many a heart-drawn sigh, she presently resumed her reading; her face flushed to the temples, her long lashes vainly essaying to retain the drops that gathered there. And then she read on more composedly, but with a still gravity, a fervent interest, a passionate enthusiasm, that showed how devotedly her spirit had yielded itself to the spell. If ever there was Mrs. Crossworth, just as he was vanishing, set pure, ardent, unbought sympathy, it was there; up one of the sweetest little laughs ever heard, if ever there was a melting, compassionate na so that her hero made his exit to soft music. ture, it was suffering before me. If she sat The change of intention, and the contrast pre-awhile mutely grieving, she would quickly sented in it-pantomime and philanthropy, cha- brighten into hope, or thrill with fear; in every ity and Mother Goose-amused the lighthearted lady amazingly. change of passion and turn of sentiment, losing self-consciousness and living only in the humani"Well." she cried, "commend me to his ty of which she read. How divine humanity choice. A rather more agreeable way of spend- thus looked-how beautiful was that life in anoing his time and money, I must own. It is quite ther's life! Earth could have nothing more heauseless to attempt to alleviate people's distress-venly to offer to the sight. es; to cry and sob over their calamities is ridi- And were those the same eyes that had wilculous; and besides, one is a little too old now fully shut out, but an hour or two before, a picto make one's self needless griefs and be misera-ture of actual misery and despair! Was it the ble for nothing. But now for my delightful novel. I do think I shall have time for two volumes." same heart that had not a single throb for living, breathing wretchedness, suing to it for the last succors! Was it the same Mrs. Crossworth who never shed needless tears, who shunned distress upon system, who heaved no more sighs than she could help, and detested misery like And Mrs. Crossworth, seizing a book, and settling herself very comfortably with no intention of speedily disturbing herself, began to read; a long silence ensued, broken only every few min-vice. The very same, and a very every-day utes by the rustling of a leaf. Her hard-heartedness had quite chilled me, and the air as it rushed through seemed to my fancy to have been cooled by her very breathing such was the insensibility she had shown. More positive vices might have been pardoned in preference; had she committed some vile person she was. She hated misery and revelled in it—she had actually no heart, and yet broke it once a week over a book. The saddest, deepest afflictions hourly darkening the world around her, moved her not; but the lightest tale of sorrow if untrue, at once turned her into a creature of exquisite sensibility. She hated the re ality, and was in raptures with the representation of it. What was most repulsive in life was most seductive in a novel. People's troubles were detestable bores, but in a romance they were infinitely charming. She was steel, adamant itself, to the proofs of workhouse horrors and prison tragedies; but susceptible as a pitying angel to fictitious woe-when they "did but jest, poison in jest." EARING. From the New Monthly Magazine. Lend me your ears.-SHAKSPEARE. than the auditory nerve. The contradiction is perhaps too common to excite frequent notice in daily life; but such a specimen of it as Mrs. Crossworth presented, was not unfairly matched by her anomalous ma- their own ears when they declared, according Would you have the ancient Germans believe trimonial partner. With a hard, severe look, he to Tacitus, that they could distinctly hear the was sensitive and tender in his nature; with a glad and generous face, she was stubborn and from the west back again to the east; thus sun passing under the sea during the night, unfeeling as a flint. He cooled and corrected beating Fine-ear, in the fairy tale, who, when the warm and kindly tendencies of his disposi- he laid his head to the ground, could hear the tion, with those draughts which inflamed the na- grass grow! Tacitus only repeated what he had tive desires of most men; she heated her ima-heard: but as he could hardly have credited gination with romantic fancies, by way of apo- the assertion, he would surely have shown himlogy for her insensibility to distressing facts. self more worthy of his name had he been siEvery good resolution formed by Mr. Cross-lent. Whatever might have been the practice worth in the morning was sure to be effectually in former times, nobody nowadays thinks of dissipated in the course of his comfortable musings after dinner; and every harsh, unpitying expression of Mrs. Crossworth during the day, was sure to be amply atoned for by torrents of compassionate tears at night. As he, less and less easy, allowed sorrow for the world's wants to flow from his eyes, and sighs for unrelieved misery around his path to rend his bosom, he paid more and more frequently private visits even before dinner, to a small recess at the end of the room, containing medicine for the cure of his grief; and as her nature hardened with years, and her first slender stock of the charities and sympathies dried up and withered for want of exercise, she sat longer and longer over her blotted pages, and made atonement by sobbing more bitterly than ever over the miseries of the Unreal! A WOMAN BEHEADED AT HEIDELBERG-An awful spectacle has been presented-the decapita crediting all that reaches his ears. For my own part, I have a sliding-scale in these matters, which probably gives me as near an approximation to the average truth as can be obtained; I believe half the ill and double the good that I hear of my fellow creatures. In the former instance, some people have accused me of incredulity, and in their particular cases the charge may be true: the latter mistake, so far as they are concerned, I have no opportunity of committing! Men in general are too skeptical, too prone to think that they show cleverness in disbelieving the current rumors of the day, too fond of doubting, as if they belonged to the ancient sect of the Pyrrhonists. ears. What ridicule was thrown upon Bruce for some of his marvellous statements, which have since received indisputable confirmation; and yet, unwarned by our groundless incredulity on the subject of Africa, we are committing the very same ungenerous mistake as to some of the averments made by our transatlantic brethren, merely because they sound strange to European More than one John Bull has even carried his illiberality so far as to doubt the averment in an American paper respecting one Jefferson Twig, surnamed the Stentor, whose voice and ear were both so powerful, that when the wind was favorable, he could hear himself shout at a distance of two miles. Happy am I to say, that I never had the smallest misgiving as to the veracity of this story. Indeed, I believe every thing that comes from the United States, unless it should happen to begin with the words headsman advanced with a broad two-handed sword. The dreadful weapon was raised, and a "I promise to pay." A well-known epigram single blow severed the head from the body. The in Joe Miller, affords the finest instance on rechead was then held up to the gaze of the crowd, ord of the pleasure of hearing. the body sank through a trap-door, and the dismal scene closed.-Examiner. tion of a woman for the murder of her husband. The culprit exhibited no extraordinary emotion, but surveyed the apparatus of death with perfect composure. She ascended the scaffold with a firm step, and took her seat in a chair which was placed in the centre of it. A short prayer was read by the clergyman, after which part of her attire was removed from her neck, and a cap was drawn over her face. There were two executioners, one of whom twisted the sufferer's hair, and held it up at arm's length. When this was done the principal TRACHEOTOMY.-M. Scoutetten has performed tracheotomy successfully in the case of a girl six weeks old in the last stage of croup. The details were communicated to encourage timid practitioners, and to exhibit the extraordinary resources of nature in early age.-Lit. Gaz. "I heard, friend Edward, thou wert dead." "I'm glad to hear it too," quoth Ned. Perhaps the greatest annoyance connected with hearing is the cry of "Hear, hear" in the House of Commons, an ejaculation equally useless and impertinent; for, if the members have not heard what has been said, you cannot assist them by making a noise; and, if they have, you for every ill-natured insinuation. Every direct needn't tell them to hear. We laugh at Swift's calumnious invention is invariably prefaced by Irishman who, having an over-roasted sirloin the words, "they say," or, "I hear," or, "if placed upon his table, told the servant to take it hearsay is to be credited." These are the masks down again and desire the cook to roast it less; worn by malice when it goes forth to stab. but is it not equally ridiculous to invite people to There is not a more arrant jade, scold, liar, and hear what has escaped their ears, or to hear more slanderer, than this same Hearsay, nor one what has already entered them? This absurd that more richly deserves the ducking-stool. interruption was well rebuked during the last Hearsay is not to be believed, either in the pressession of parliament. An impatient senator, ent or the past. Common report, which is the wishing to draw attention to something that hearsay of to-day, is a tissue of spoken falseaccorded with his own notions, turned towards hoods, and History, which is the Hearsay of forone of the silent members and vociferated, mer days, is a volume of written falsehoods. "Hear, hear!" "Sir, I never do any thing else," was the meek reply. What a curious mistake as to his auditory powers is made by Macbeth, when, in answer to the tripple summons of the apparition, he exclaims, "Had I three ears, I'd hear thee." Of course he would, and all the better, in the proportion of three to two. To show how intensely he was listening, he ought to have said, "Had your suit been a chancery suit, it should have obtained an immediate hearing!!" This would | indeed have been attention, and would have been received by the Ghost as a compliment involving something very like a miracle. Fielding used to maintain there was no other difference between the Chronicles and the novels of a nation than this: in the former, nothing is true, save the names and dates; in the latter, nothing is false, save the names and dates. Had he lived to read the researches of Niebuhr and others, he would have learnt that names and dates are in many instances the most fabulous portions of history. Pity that he could not have read the following passage from Vico's "Scienza Nuova.” During two centuries and a half, when Rome was under the government of kings, she subdued more than twenty people, without extending her empire more than twenty miles." A great portion of history-nearly the whole indeed of its "All those magnificent ideas which have been hitherto entertained, as to the beginnings of Rome and all the other capitols of celebrated Various are the cures for deafness. Applying nations, disappear, like mists dispersed by the a trumpet to the drum of the ear certainly does sun, before that precious passage of Varro, quoseem calculated to make a very audible chari-ted by Saint Augustine in his 'City of God.' vari in that region, and ought to be successful, unless where the patient is made deaf with the noise; but to obtain hearing for a lawsuit is a very difficult and tedious operation, and usually induces great exhaustion, with alarming attacks of impecuniosity in the patient. The most suc-early stage, may be defined as an authentic accessful mode of treatment is an application of the client's last guinea to the palm of the solicitor, after which the hearing generally comes on, and leaves the respective parties in the established predicament-the poor patient utterly ruined by getting his hearing, the lawyers enriched by having been deaf to all his remonstrances against delay and expense. When people fall together by the ears, and have recourse to litigation, and find that the effects of the cause have caused their effects to disappear, they are generally ready to exclaim, that they would have given their ears if they had never sought to obtain a hearing. count of incidents that have never occurred. We know where the fabulous ages begin, but it is difficult to say where they end. Coming nearer to our own times gives us no greater assurance of the truth of History. Who has not been familiar from his youth upwards with the story of William Tell shooting the apple from the head of his son? How often has it been represented to us in the form of a melodrama, opera, and pantomime! How we admire the patriotic Tell, and the brave Swiss for his sake; and how we anathematize the tyrannical Herman Gesler! What circumstantiality in the details of the narrative, what picturesqueness in Listeners, we are told, hear no good of them-its accessories! who could dream of doubting selves; and why should they? When a man its accuracy and literal truth? Yet the whole is performing a mean action, purloining opin story is in Saxo Grammaticus, who wrote two ions to which he has no right, which is little centuries before Tell was born, and who assigns better than picking a pocket, how can he ex- the perilous exploit to Tocco, a Danish bowman. pect to be praised for honorable dealing? And Some Swiss historian, having heard probably what a simpleton he is for his pains! Has he of this achievement, and wishing to exalt the never heard-if not he must be deaf indeed-hero of his own country, borrowed Tocco's that where ignorance is bliss 'tis folly to be wise? plumes to decorate Tell's head-and such is The pleasure derived during a whole life History! from hearing what is said in our favor, would Had we no hearing, such falsification, slannot compensate the pain of a single month, if we ders, and mischiefs, could never have occurred; overheard all that is said against us. That but still the world is a gainer after all by our man is no fool who can turn a deaf ear to de-possession of the auditory faculty, for had we traction, and a deafer one to flattery. When he not been gifted with hearing, this paper would is thus hard of hearing let him not call in the have had no title, and the readers of the New aid of any aurist. Not only should we be Monthly would not have been entitled to this much happier, but much better moral charac-paper!! ters, less censorious, less prone to scandal and backbiting, were we all truly and literally deaf| |