Indiana American, Volume 5, Number 8, Brookville, Franklin County, 17 February 1837 — Page 1

AMA AMIBIEIKDAM OUR COUNTRY OUR COUNTRY S INTEREST AND OUR COUNTRY'S FRIENDS. IIV C. F. CE.AKKS03T. BKOOKYILLE, FRAiKLIK COUNTY, INDIANA, FRIDAY, FEB. 17, IS 37. VOL,. V. No. 8.

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A TALK. Fran tUe Saturday Courier. A STOKY OF AMERICAN LIFE. CHAPTER I. "All men are dreamers; from the hour When reason first asserts its power, Unmitidful of its bitter 6ting. To sjine deceiving hop we cling That hope's a dream." "Yes, with all wno gaze, confess That thou art full of loveliness. With all who for a moment view. Thy dazzling eyes' unclouded blue." 'And so Beauchamp, vou are the favored liivpr of tliis unrivaled Miss Mansfield, so I dame report tells." 'She, you know, has long ?ustaincd the character of a notorious liar.' "But in this instance, I fancy, has blundtred into the truth' No Samner, she has not: I nm not the favored lover of Miss Mansfield; nor indeed do I love her at nil though I confess, had I met her in some humble cottage, uncourted, unil.ittered, unknown, amid the obscurity of poverty with her rich tallents, her cultivated niiaJ, tier devotion to every thing noble and generous, I should hnve loved her with all mv heart's devotion." So you really like her the worse for possessing:, in addition to all these attractions, half a million of money." -.Miss Mansfield will scorn to think of me a! a suiter but could 1 even woo, and win the priz;, I would not. Were 1 even of her own rank, "I would worship as oon a familiar tar, That is bright to every eye." "And yet I acknowledge she is a glorious creature; every tiling a man ought to love." "And with this glorious ere -iture you spend every hour of leisure in company, scarcely know whether any body else is present, acknowledge she is all a man ought to love, and yet do not love her rather an incomprehensible fellow." Yes perhaps go; but incomprehensible or not, the girl of my choice, whatever may be I iier oiner qualifications, must at any rate, be , poor and unknown; like Gray s nowcret "Born to blush unseen, And waste: its sweetness on the desert air." "Well Beauchamp, a fine sentiment truly. But actually you are the wildest, most unreasonable, irrational fellow " 'Not so unreasonable as at first glance it seems. I am amoitious ambitious of fame glory! and I should blush to owe my respectability in life to the fortune and rank of my wile. You will think this idle, my dear friend; to another than you I should not speak so asperingly; but unaided and alone, 1 will carve out my way to distinction, through poverty, obscurity, and neglect." "I wish you success, my dear fellow. 1 too have had dreams, but they are over' The precceding dialogue occurred between two young law students, while walking, one starry evening, along the principle strcetof a somewhat noted v ilSiagc, near the centre of Massachusetts. Beauchamp, while vet a mere boy. had been left an orphan, poor i.nd friendless. with an only and cherished sister; s delicate timid, and affectionate little girl. He had J thus far struggled manfully, nobly, on his way to d stinction. lie had trod the roughest path of literature; had acquired, unaided by any thing but his own surpassing talents, a thorough and clissic education; and was pursuing, with unequalcJ application, the dry study of tha law. The villiage where he resided, had been accused, and perhaps with justice, of aristicratical manners. But our young hero's prepossessing appearance procured him at once an introduction to its best society, and mado lilm a favorite in its most exclusive circles i of refinement. In those circles, he became acquainted with the voting lady refcred to in conversation between the two students. Julia Mansfield ought not, perhaps, to be called the belle of the villatrc; the word, in its common acceptation, would he derogatory to her character but she was decidedly the most beautiful, the most talked of, the most admired, and c-nvicd, of its lair young (,'irls. She was brilliant, attractive in the fashionable assembly, no one could gaze at her and not admire: but not there did she appear to the best advantage. At the bd ide of the sick and suffering poor, she was indeed a ministering angel. And who could behold her bending over their low ly couch, with clustering ringlets, expressive eyes, find decplr Hashed cheeks, and not love her? The tired and hungry beggar received food from her hand, and prayed God to bless her. The wearied and broken hearted wretch listened to her whispered consolations, and smiled. Her class in the Sabbath school 11 meet her always with a pleased and hap1 py look. The orphan's grcatful look, the widow s hallowed prayer, washers, tonu passionately fond, of literary pursuits, and devoted to all the endearments of domestic life, her own home was heaven to her, and she mixed but little in general society. But when she did attend the fashionable balls

ftnd parties of the day, her appearance was

always like the rising of some great lumin

arv, before which a whole host of lesser lights vanished. Fair reader, we have so far described a creature all perfection. There is still room for faults in the filling" up of the character, and Julia was, indeed, a mere mortal beauty, with many of the passions, faults, varieties, and foibles of common mort; Is. But such as she was, she was ijust the .creature . loris.eu lo captivate tne coldest heart, let she had not many suitors, for there was something in her manners, a mixture of scorn, irony, and indifference, that told the fops, the exquisitics, the wouldbe great men of the day, how much she despised them. The society and conversation of men of talents she was fond of, and could listen with complacency even to their tri fling. In her conduct towards such men, there was a spice of of something which, because no better name occurs must be called coquetry how I hate that word. Indulgent reader, do not suppose Miss Mansfield was that most heartless ol all heartless things, a designing coquette. No, she possessed a heart a heart lull of gushing and warm and true affections. And does this divine creature really love me, thought Ucanchanip, after he was returning home one evening, after a long delightful interview with Julia, (their intercourse hud continued for more than a year, and had ripened into intimacy.) She who has rejected the proudest of our land, will she be mine? It is evident 6he prefers my society to any other she pours into my bosom her deepest thoughts, her wildest dreams, while the deeply suffused cheek tells anv thing but indifference. Yes. she loves me her undisguised and frank nat ire proclaims it, in every word, and look, and action. But why does this conviction come like a pang across my bosom! Do I not love her in return! Yes, heaven knows how deeply, fervently, I love, I idolize her. But something whispers this love will be a curse. It was not my young dream, to be sure, to marry a celebrated beauty, an heiress, a being worshipped by all the world. No, some beautiful girl, whose rich talents and exalted virtues, had been always hidden by poverty A; obscurity was the ideal mistress of my your.g and wild immagination. But that foolish, dream his been long past. l''or months, it has been my object to win the heart of Julia Mansfield. And that pure young priceless heart is mine almost without a doubt. And am I not supremely happy? Yes begone evil geuius, I am, i will be so, in spite of all their whisperings. But her parents, will they consent to our union? Her sensible prudent father her proud inconsistent mothei? Why should 1 doubt it! Judge Mansfield has ever acte i towards me as a warm and steady friend- he speaks contemptuously of that superfluity which is founded on riches; and I have heard him declare, that in the all-important affair of choosing a partner for life, his daughter should not be crossed! Her mother she is an inexplicable character! but then I have always been her favourite. They have both 6een, without discouraging, our intercourse. They must have seen, for neither of them lack penetration, our growing affection. Yet she is allowed to sit alone with me for hours she rides with me, and hour after hour we wander together through the most delightfnl scenery. Jray Mr. Beauchamp, forgive me, for thus exposin rr your private thoughts. The thoughts of any romantic lover, however talented, when reduced to words, and, especially, when read aloud, will appear very, very foolish. All Ceauchamp's apprehension, or premonition, (is there no word that will express my meaning, I can think of none, hut the somet hiiig' which whispers "this love will be a curse," had vanished, and was entirely forgotten the next day, as the lovers s it together in one of their favorite and romantic haunts. Their teat was formed by what had been a monarch of the forest; but nowuprooted by some tornado, ai.d stripped by ruthless time of all itst branches, it laid like other fallen majesties, a proud wreck of its former great ness. Between them, ami the house Irom winch they had wandered, hand in hand, lay, stretched out in true New England glory un extensive or chard, or rather forest, as it seemed, of fruit trees, dressed in unrivalled bloom. The beautiful white mansion was entirely hidden from view, but the top of the willow grove in front of it. was seen waving, arrayed in spring's tender green. A little brook was dancing at our lovers' feet; and from its margin rose abruptly, on the opposite side, craggy and moss-covered rocks; which terminated in a lofty hill, crowned with unchanging, but gloomy evergreens; and glimmering through their branches like gold, was seen the setting sun. That sequestered and narrow valley was full of nature's simple but affecting music. There was music in the iiurirlingr wild brook, rushing on its devious way, like a wayward and wild boy in pursuit of pleasure; there was music in the lonely and plain tive notes of the whippsrwill.- music in the hum of the next village, which came softened in the distance; music in the merry peals of the factory bell, nroclaiminir to the tired operators that the long weary hours ol labour were closed, anu evening, sweet season of rest and amusement, had arrived. It was a fitting hour, n litting scene, for young hearts to enshrine their first fond vows of love and everlasting fidelity, to mingle their wild and hitherto untold dreams. Mutual confessions were made mutual vows though unheard by mortals, were reeistered. were they not! in heaven. Julia never seemed to Beauchamp, much as he had long loved her, half so lovely hs that bewildering moment, when he caught, half breathed from glowj ii ir lips, the frank expression that she loved him. Uwas an hour, a tcene never to be forgotten. It3 meinorv but we w ill not anticipate our story. CH APTER II. "The lover hangs on some bright eye, And dreams of bliss in every sigh: Jut brightest eyes are deep in guile And he w ho trusts their fickle smile. Trusts in a dream." "I've sighed that charms like thine should be Possessed by one so false as thee." An unusually happy group were assembled one evening around a cheerful fire, iu the elegantly furnished parlour of Judge Mansfield. It consisted of himself and wife, their two eldest sons, just returned from a tour through most of the countries of Europe, Julia, her youngest 6ister Margaret, and a rosy cheeked boy of twelve. James Heauchai'13 too was there. The conversation walively and very interesting; but the favored lover, thoiiffh unnsuallf animated, was rather absent minded. You will forgive him, gentle reader,

for only that afternoon had Julia's parents, for the first time, expressed their entire approbation of his union with their peerless daughter and the happy day to consummate his bliss, though not definitely fixed, it was agreed should be sometime

the ensuing spring. A deeper blush than usual j was still bathing the expressive features of Julia,! who, amidst the general vivacity and interest of the scene, sat sileht, her eyes fixed intently on a book; how her thoughts were employed, wo leave the reader to imagine, 7?cauchaiup held a literary paper in his hand, but only looked at it once and a while, lie conversed with the young Alansfields about the wonders, the antiquities, ihe manners, and the governments of Europe; but Margaret, a fair haired girl, who sat by his sid?, with an expression of raillery on her bright face, could not once or twice suppress an audable laugh, at his blunders, hlJshes, and appologies. Ti mo nnfifiPn1 ramJ V nrt' f ho niiiii'orcatinn rr rr 1 1 more and more animated and interesting: hut Julia Vtill obstinately adhered to her book. A visi - ter was announced, and Judge Mansfield introduced the Hon. Mr. Durand, whose acquaintance he had made the preceding winter, at Washington. Durand s personal appearance was striking ,..i ro,,cSPSi.r r,mvrr,i;nn ,;,.. knowledge, talent and taste, was all that could j captivate. Julia's book was thrown i interest and asidc, and she listened to her lather's friend, whose eloquence in debate she had often heard spoken of, (she was a devout worshipper at the shrine of eloquence) with an appaiently absorbing attention; while the expressive glances he directed towards her, showed he was not indifferent to beauty. James felt himself thrown at once into the back grounds He was unusually, painfully, and consciously embarrassed, in the presence of the hauty southerner, and he at last became entirely and gloomily silent, while his conversation seemed not at all missed by the happy and loquacious party. During the evening, Durand received and accepted an invitation to spend several weeks in the family of Mansfield. At this, James could hardly repress a frown. Did he doubt Julia's constancy? Even to his own heart he would not have acknowledged it. But then he was perfectly conscious that the proud young stranger possessed infinitely the advantage of him, in person and manners, in ehquence, rank, riches, and popularity, and he could not bear to be outshone in the-presence of his mistress. With the wild uthusiasin of a lover, he imagined no one could behold her without adoration. Durand was not unknown, by reputation, to any of the present party; for he was not only a statesman and an orator, but a poet. Of his poetry, Julia Mansfield had always been a most immoderate admirer. No wonder then, that in the present juncture of affairs, her lover felt rather uncomfortable. The honored guest pleaded fatigue and retired early. The rest of the party, except James and Julia, soon followed his example. The lovers were left alone; and each, from some cause or other, which it is not necessary to ascertain, felt more awkwardly than they had been wont to feel on similar occasions. Ueauchamp walked to the win dow, gazed some time at the stars, I suppose, (for he seemed to be gazing at something.) made some trifling and unanswered remarks on t he brilliancy of the evening, and then carelessly (lie must, it should appear so,) crossed over to the opposite side of the room, where Julia was seated on a velvet cushioned 6ofa, and placed himstlf by her side. She put bacU the crimson curtains, and they were bathed in a rich flood of moonlight. The coals were glowing on the hearth, ch.tirs stood in the places where they had lately bee:; occupied, bocks lay -in confusion on the table, and several newspapers were scattered about the carpet. Silence seemed to reign as the presiding deity of the room. Julia took up t book. Her lover gazed at the decaving fire. "Pray," said beauchamp, alter there had been an awful pause, "pray, .Miss Mansfield, what is this book you are so deeply interested ili!" "Oli! the poems of Durand." "And are you as partial to thoir author as to his works?" " "More 60, Beauchamp. How do you like him!" 'Oh verv well indeed. He is a man of first rate talents and noble looking, certainly; but 1 really wonder how he could write such foolish poems!" . Julia laughed. She and James had enjoyed many an animated dispute about these poeias. '1 will be candid, though, Julia," said Beauchamp, after a short pause, "I told you I liked this haughty South Carolinian, but I realiy do not. There is something about him 1 absolutely hate." Julia laughed again, then looked a little displeased, but made no reply. And after another long pause, and a little conversation on indifferent tubjects, the lovers parted, neither of them so happy as they were at sunset. Three days after, Durand wrote the following letii-r: To Well mv dear fellow, I have been travelling the middle of March, for amusement, in the inhosnlfnhle climate oi u.ew ungianu. i no England. Tha roads quite frightful mud and snow a foot deep. But 1 m now safe from the horrors of the road and climate, and what is still more conso mg trom polit.cal storms, enjoying a -f , arau.se ... u. hoitable mansion ot . I uuge Jiansiieid, wnose ac- ' 1 I 1 f..... ...... . mm int'llire VOU O.JU l . uau luc ruuu luuuuu iw quauiia..v.o i ... i . i make last wiuier at uaumgiuu. x uecuicjuu consider myself the mobt fortunate fellow in the world, in getting acquainted w.i . w.is graie oiu New Englander; otherwise I imght, perhaps, nevnave uu tm ... i i 1 .1 innsT np.niTitiil il7i.r in Iii .Pi,i 1 mean mv Irienu 8 tiaujriiter. All my wildest dreams of beauty, the bright visions 01 hich have been for years almost forgotteti. are fully realized in this northern deity. And then she is not the cold hearted, dull, lifeless thing that northern beauties at Washington have always appeared to me. 1 nere is a warnitn, an exuberance of feeling about her. JlansheJd ought to have taken her to V ashmgton. 1 am glad, ller'S heeJ wintT aMrs! Du!' 'SS has a lover, a young law ytude.it. a good fellow enough, but not worthy of Julia. She shall never 1,0 1, ; W I an. resolved. He was here, quite one of the family circle, the evening 1 arrived. 1

guessed (you see J am getting quite 1 ai.Keeneu,; murmuring stream. 1 pressed her nt. inre he was the lover of that glorio us creature 1 & r who had "t fir-t sig1.t almost be wTidered me, audi hand to my heart, and-but you can guess treated him accordingly. I was determined he what I said. I was never more eloquent. should not shine in conversation, and I succeeded ut then she withdrew her hand, which actuin making him appear insignificant, at least he aj vibrated with agitation, and said she wnathed in total silence, and ko one suspected ust not p,itcn to such h.nguage she was enT VV7 : Underflnn nfiSte t': gaged to James Beauchampf A damperHe has called once since, and, to my inlinite eai f,"o t "faction, went away with a clouded brow. It is but I was not discouraged. I pleaded my a good deal galling to the youth's feelings, that livii cause more earnestly than a lawyer ever can speud my whole time with Julia, while he peajcj for his. client; and she did listen, only sees her occasionally. (I ought to have told! lllolL.h ,aj saiJ slie 1IU,st not. But it ou that 1 have acceptec I an invitation tc i spcuc o j hen we wcre several weeks in my mend's family.) 1 saw uns on i!,P inn nf Wachussci invitation gave the poor baffled fellow a good deal again lelt together on the top ot Wacliussci

of uneasiness. W rite me directlv but do not

trouble me with . political affairs. Be sure to say anything about the question. Ycurs, Eoblut Dur AND. "Mr. W ." CHAPTER HI. "Tisover! I have flung thee, off. With cureless heart and bitter scoff Thou! w ho didst dare fool that thou Wert, To trifle with a bursting heart?" Nearly three months have passed after the date of our last chapter. Beauchamp still continued his visits at Mansfield's though they were no longer the blissful meetings they had been. Julia, upon one pretence or another, had insisted upon deferring their marriage, a,,d lie no longer treated him with that uni1 form respect she used to do; indeed he j though t she had often wantonly triflled w ill j ft,t l;ng. Often, when he called, she was dou sorne ext.lr,ion of pleasure with I T. fr . . , . , . . i Durand and her brothers. Once they had gone to Boston ; another time they had rode out with the intention of ascending Wachusset. He wi.s never asked to be of their party. Still Julia would occasionally express undiminished regard for him in looks and action, if not in words; and he would not believe her false. He called one Sunday evening to walk with her. "Oh, she has walked cut with jour rival," said the laughing Margaret, in reply to inquiries for Julia. "And who do ou call my rival, Margaret? pray be defininite." "O vou know as well as I do tha all-conquering Mr. Durand. to be sure, orator statesman, and poet. Do you know, Jamen, that Julia often wishes you could write poetry? Now, if you would try, lam sure you could write better poetry than this overbearing southerner." 1 shall not try, Margaret," he said with a bitter smile, and immediately left the house. He wandered along through the orchard towards the valley already mentioned, till he was arrested by .the sound of Julia's voice, singi ig with its most enchanting softnes one of his favorite songs, one she had a thousand times sung to him. He saw her sitting on the very spot where one year before they had. for the first time, exchanged vows of love and truth. Durand was by her side her hand was pressed to his lips. With a maddened soul Beauchamp turned abruptly away. The same evening he met Julia. She - G7 smiled, and seemed in usual spirits; but e few unpleasant remarks from him soon altered her capricious gaiety. They sat together by the window of a little back parlour, their favorite room Beauchamp and his affianced bride. There had been a long, long, painful silence. A cloud was on Beaucharnp's brow, and, Julia's face was fitfully shaded b contending emotions. The lovely scenery, thath.y in delicious and calm beauty before them, was not quite unheeded, nor was it the engrossing subject of their thoughts. The tall willows, beneath whose drooping branches had been their oiu e-accustomcd seat the luxuriant and full-blooming rose bush, which they together had thought to shade the window, and from whiih a" sweet perfume was now stealing through the room in the distance, Wachuset rearing its blue summit to the azure sky, all these, and many other familiar objects, recalled memories not in unison with their present feelings. Beauchamp had plutked a full-blooming rose, and sat unconsciously scattering its beautiful leaves upon the floor. "What has that poor rose done," said Julia trying to laugh, "that you thus wantonly destroy it?.' lie looked up for an inslaut, w ith a voluminous expression in his dark, brilliant eyes, which made Julia bend her gaze again upon the floor, dispelled her borrowed 6tnile, and blanched her check; but he replied not in words. Durand, at this time, was in his own chamoe,.? writing the following letter: ki , r thrre months have Dassed . dnte ofmv ,a5t kUe, and J am stili ".,.Va . v nni f he i - ; .. ttmo w.nninr lull linvi m51lf erlrnnuic iimii-, uu.'vt vi, ... - . ... ,, trivT T?l 1 T.. gtonsili an pans ui rcv xuimtu. m cumo L, tnesc l l,ave been accompanied by Julia. T brothcrsand sister, I ought injustice to , ' t;jL arpJmPre rv. si),-'- - -j ...: 7, ,1. r pliers 111 mv isum.muii. i n3 , t,Cse delightful excursions that 1 first dared ,rplheto Julia, love's impassioned lanh ' k '-We stood on the green borders of James nver the Origin young leaves 01 spring Were dancing in the moonshine the soft air delicious in the fragrance of surrounding orchard,: a gentle breeze was showering around us the fallen blossoms o( the apple, Her hand was in mine: the party had strayed ff some distance; we were silent all was sije,Unroun(J, except the whippoorwill, and

that she told me, with all the fond, confiding frankness of her nature, that she loved me that her love for Beauchamp had never been more than a dream. Ecstatic, divine moment! It was not moon'ight; the bright rays of a glorious sun show ed to advantage the deepening red cf her velvet cheek, and allowed me to drink the rich expression of those unrivalled eves. f Beauchamp could then have seen and heard us, I would not have answered for the consequerccss. He is

a spirited and fiery youth, though raised beneath the cold skies of New England. "Julia has promised to explain her senti ments to Beauchamp. They are now togeth er. I am growing'impalient; out it is their last lcte-a-ice, and its immoderate length must be submitted tc "Beauchamp has just left the house; there is an awlul cloud upon his brow. I hasten to the angel girl; so good-bye. Egbert Duraxd. "Mr. IV. ." We return, gentle reader, to the elegant little apartment where we left our exemplary lovers absorbed iu silent, but not very pleasant reflection. "This trifling this finished ccquetry," said Beauchamp,,, at last, "is no longer to be submitted to. Your conduct towards this Durand, this proud slave-Holdcr, has been, yoa are aware, very inconsistent with your engagements to me. I have a right to rescent it. But, Julia, I still love you love you deeply though I could despise my own weakness. Yet 1 am no willing slave to a blind and hopeless passion. If you will be my wile, He paused; and Julia exclaimed in a tremcling voice "This is a painful subject, James; I would end it at once. I can never be 3 our wife. I know my hand is pledged I know all the foolish things 1 have said; but James, vou will not, cannot receive this hand, though offere d, when 1 tell you my heart is another's!" 'It is enough! I understand you enjoy your triumph. But rememder, the heart and hand ofacoquctte are alike valueless to me!" And with a cold good night, a haughty step, and a burning cheek, he left the honse. There was indeed a cloud on his brow; and a long and enduring blight on his deep affections. He loitered to his boarding-house, entered his chamber, locked the door, threw open the window, sat down, and, leaning his head upon his hand, remained thus motionless for hours. We need not trace the currentof his thoughts, but they were sufikientlv bitter. The hour of midnight had cooled the fever of his brain, ere he pennt"! a letter to his sister, a loved and lovely girl, who was nowtraining her soul to patience in the ardous employment of teaching a public school. BEAUCIIAII? TO HIS SISTER. "Dear Lucy: I thank you much for jour long, kind and interesting letter. A long time has elapsed since I received it. I have no good excuse lo plead in extenuation of this neglect, and can only ask ycu to forgive me. I have indeed lately been a negligent correspondent, but 1 will not be so in future. I am now fully alive to your tenderness; I fullv realize the value of that priceless gem, a sister's love. I have just been reading over your letter; and, deadened as the feelings of youth are by intercourse with a heartless world, I have wept long and violently over the memoories it recalled. The allusions you make to the home of our childhood our first, nnd indeed our only home, have touched a chord in my bosom which will never cease to vibrate. Do you remember, Lucy, how we used to sit on the slepi of our cottage door, and watch the clouds pass over the moon? How vivid the scene is in my reccoliection? The old ehn-f.ree before us, with its bending branches to the left that green meadow, where we used to gather wild strawberries, and the blue stream, with its capacious wanderings how lovely it looked by moonlight and a thousand other familiar objects: I need not describe them and our parents scaled within the cottage. Lucy, we are orphans now! Oh how does this cold truth strike homts upon the heart! There is no paternal home for us to visit. How often, in the course of the last ten years, my heart has bled, when I have heard my companions, my fellow studenlg, talk of "going home." Home! Oh what a world of delightful associations is comprised in that one word land they are lost to us! "Well, we will not despair, though we do know'somethingof the visitudes of life, the humiliations of poverty, the coldness the injustice of mankind; though we feel In its bitterness the orphan's lonely doom. We have blessings, many blessings, youth, health, unsullied reputation, and sincere s ffeclion for each other; and with these materials for happiness it is foolish to repine. ' "I am still pursuing my studies. They have of late, met with some interruption, but I shall now return to them with redoubled ardour. I will yet, Luc) stand among the proudest of our land. 1 will occupy a station to which those who now look down with scorn ou me, shall not dare aspire. "One part of your letter I have not yet noticed ; under existing circumstances, 1 ought, perhaps, to do so. You asked me to present jour love to Miss Mansfield; this I have complied with. You say that you anticipate the pleasure of soon calling her sister Julia. I am candid w hen 1 tell ycu she will never be my