wonder not, that, when I saw myself an outcast from the maternal bosom, I sought to win an angel for my distempered soul. There hovered at this moment a doom over me, on which depended more than mere life and death; the consequence must be reconciliation, or the eternal perdition of my soul. There lay a thunder-cloud on my heart and brain; I neither saw nor felt clearly. It was then that I tempted thee, Serena; thou withstcodest me, and I believed that I loved thee less; but I deceived myself; thou hadst sunk only deeper into my spirit, and wert become one with its good genius. But this I did not then feel; my mind was dark. bler? It is like the alms of the robber-it is a "A moment of wild desperation passed over, and I became reconciled to my mother. I rested my head on her bosom! I heard her bless me ! Almighty God! rich in mercy, wouldst thou weigh out to me against this moment a hundred years of suffering, yet could I lift my hands to thee, as now, and thank thee for this moment! Words cannot express its value; it has saved me both "What shall I say farther to thee, Serena? Although reconciled with my mother, and loving her more intensely than ever, I felt, after the first moments of heavenly blessedness, no rest in my heart. Thee, thee, must I win. Thou must be come my wife, if I must enjoy peace on earth. "Once more I tore myself from my effeminate I sought to win thee in the way which thou thyand dissolute career. I sought to employ my life, self hadst pointed out to me-I was rejected. It which oppressed me, in a widely extended and was not wounded pride, Serena, which induced systematic activity. I launched into speculations me for a long time to absent myself from your of commerce; they prospered, and I became rich. house; no, but I descended into myself, and enBut, ah! my heart still remained poor; and, in deavoured to renounce thee. It was in vain! a the midst of my superfluity, my soul hungered. nameless, irresistible Power drew me back to It was at this period that my affairs conducted thee; there was a bond between us, which seemed me to England. I heard Canning address the to me to be twined by God himself. Thou wert representatives of a great people for the abolition mine! Oh, moment of transport! of godlike blessof the slave-trade, for liberty, and the good of edness! Thou wert mine-and life was renovamankind. I saw on his brow the glory of an im- ted, the past was forgotten, all was atoned for and mortal beauty; and, for the first time, I compre- purified. Oh, it was but for a moment! the Fubended the moral worth and the true nobility of ries speedily raised themselves again in my heart, man, and the baseness of my former life. Oh, the chastening goddess of Memory; and thy acSerena! then did I bewail the days and the vig-quiescence, thy pure glance, became to me pierour which I had wasted! But I was still young; yet could I begin-what? An outcast, a son with the maternal imprecation on his head, what good can he commence? what blessing can he receive from above? I was cursed! That was the brand which was stamped on my forehead; the stone which lay upon my life, and doomed it to eternal darkness. What angel could roll the stone away? Oh, long did my soul wrestle in benumbing despair! for my mother is the only being whom I ever feared. Often since my childhood had our spirits contended; but she had always triumphed, had always cast mine down. Bitterness grew in my heart; but long years passed away, and love came back into it, and grew and overspread all the bitterness. The thoughts of reconciliation with her were the only thoughts in my soul. This reconciliation was the condition of a new, of a better life; without it, the whole world was nothing to me. I had no hope; but, if I would live, I must dare. So powerfully had this feeling laid hold on my being, that I was physically enfeebled by it; at the very word 'Mother' I could weep like a child. "I came back; I saw my paternal home again; I saw also thee, Serena! the paradise of my childhood, my revelation of heaven, the object of my desire, the reformation of my life and being-I saw all this in thee. Wonder not that my arms extended themselves longingly to secure thee; cing reproaches. I was not worthy of thee: every day made me more sensible of it; and doubly unworthy I felt myself, that I would draw thee down into a life of whose darkness thou wert ignorant; for in vain would I delude myself-never can I be at rest; never can the blessedness of a pure heart dwell in my bosom. What has been done cannot be undone; there are circumstances in my life which never can be forgotten; remembrances which will pursue me to the grave! Oh, Serena! thy innocent hand should not be laid in one stained with so many crimes; thou, the pure, the blessed, shouldst not stand in connexion with him on whom secretly lies the ban of expulsion from civil society; at least, thou oughtest not to. surrender thy youth, thy beauty, thy womanly virtue, to a deceiver. This has of late become perfectly clear to me. It has become clear that, if I abused thy confidence, and made thee unhappy-and happy never can the partner of my days and nights be-then, indeed, must I become an eternal reprobate. These thoughts have long agitated me. Hagar's crimes and thy virtues, thy conquest over me and her, have brought them to maturity. I love thee now, Serena, as highly and sacredly as I before loved thee wildly and egotistically, and, therefore, I have unveiled my soul before thee, as before its eternal Creator. The altar has not yet united us; thou canst yet separate thyself from me, canst yet withdraw thyself. Thou art at this moment free; and, if thou re- | Bear to Ramm, there to look well about hin, and, jectest me, yet shall no complaint, no reproach, in the first place, to take his own pleasure, and pass my lips. If thou, also, turnest thyself away then to confer on me that of hearing how affairs from me, I will yet love and honour thee, and will stand after the wedding. I do not find myself go on my solitary and dreary path as well as I very well. I am heavy and dull; look towards may. Ramm, and long for Bear. Evening draws on; "Thou hast spoken of friendship, of brother he must certainly soon appear. I have not been and sister; pardon me, if I rend away this illu- well since Serena's wedding-day; I was too much sion of an angelically pure heart. It cannot be excited. Bruno's disquiet on this day, his nearly so between us. God created our souls of far dif- wild questions to Serena, "Wilt thou become ferent natures; in mine burn flames of which mine in joy and sorrow, in time and in eternity?" thou knowest nothing; I must possess thee, or what do they portend? "I will answer thee this fly thee; but, if I fly thee, Serena, I shall yet car- evening," said Serena, in her sweet, sincere manry thy image in my bosom, and it will make me ner. That pacified him; and at evening, as they a better man. I am not alone-I have a mother. were affianced, and the blessing was pronounced I will live for her, should it even be without pleas- over them, he became changed. A great thoughture or enjoyment. Yet let me add but one word. fulness appeared to exalt and to calm his spirit. I have hoped, Serena, thou, whom I alone have Ah! wherefore this disquietude, wherefore this ever truly loved-to be able to begin, on thy bo- pain in the bosom of happiness itself, if his consom, on thy angel's heart, a new and better life. science had peace? I believed that the better germes in my soul would unfold themselves under thy protection-and who can say what the heart augurs? and who measures the strength of love? Who sets bounds to the mercy of the Almighty? With thee appeared the way to atonement and a better life-without thee-but I have said enough. Now thou knowest all, Serena-pronounce the judgment over me. I stoop my head before thee, and will kiss thy beloved hand, let it dispense me what it will life or death." But am I not wrong to feel such uneasiness and anxiety, when I have witnessed in Bruno so much and genuine love; and in Serena, a tenderness, a truth, and a strength, which can ennoble and embellish everything? In the marriage hour there was something in her which seemed to elevate her union above all the power of misfortune and mutability. There lay a heavenly serenity on her pure brow. She pronounced the words "To love thee in joy and trouble" with such a beautiful and lofty certainty, that I invol leaned on his shoulder, and stood there supported by his faithful arm. How the occurrences of this day still hover before my mind! They seized powerfully, too powerfully, upon me! How long Bear stays! The shadows of the trees are already large, and the birds begin their even-song. God grant that no misfortune has happened at Ramm! the old black house there looks like a place of ill luck. Why must Serena go there? Thank God! here comes Bear. I will go down towards the bridge to meet him. As the Seraph Eloa, says the poet of the Mes-untarily pronounced them again to Bear, as I siah,* * descended at the side of the Saviour into hell, and saw there the darkness and misery, its clear glance became quenched in gloom. A feeling, like that of Eloa, had, during Bruno's confession, oppressed Serena; and an indescribable weight lay upon her heart, and impeded its action; but it was rolled away, and vanished. As the fresh wind blows away the fog; as the clear stars come forth in the dark night; as the glow of morning ascends, and illumines and fills all creation with splendour-so rose in Serena's heart the eternal love, strong, abundant, sweet, and triumphant. In her soul all became lighter, freer, more assured than ever-there was no more fear, no more disquiet there; and, as Bruno ceased to speak, she stooped towards him, with silent tears of affection in her eyes, and said, "I go with thee, Bruno. Oh! my friend, my husband, it cannot be otherwise. Together let us wander on the earth, together one day kneel before the throne of the All-merciful!" Speechless, Bruno clasped her to his bosom. Light broke in. A song arose, beautiful and peaceful, and embraced the united ones in its melodious waves. It was the Easter Hymn, sounding from the church for the celebration of the First-born of the Resurrection. These scenes are at an end; and, with them, my task. With hearty good-will I surrender again the pen to the hand of Madame Werner; but just at this time, namely, after Hagar's death, occurs a material gap in her correspondence; the positive cause of which it is not in my power to state, and which I am not enabled to fill up. Thou must, therefore, worthy reader, content thyself with proceeding to the next chapter. CHAPTER XXV. Rosenvik, May 23d. HERE again! I sit alone, and have despatched * Klopstock. 24th. FRAGMENT OF A CONVERSATION OF YESTERDAY. "Well, Bear, it was beautiful, what thou saidst of Serena: that she looked so amiable, and the patriarchs so satisfied. Tell me, now, how was Ma chère mère?" "Superb, but not lively." "Did she make no speech ?" "No she was unusually still, but appeared satisfied, and internally thankful." "And how behaved Bruno towards her ?" "Like the tenderest of sons." "And towards Serena? What did he call her? Did he look much at her? How much did he look at her? Was he much about her? Did he talk much with her? Did he show much attention to her, much solicitude about her?" "My dear child, it would be quite as well if thou hadst a less flux de bouche, then one might answer regularly. Now let us see, what was the question? Whether Bruno behaved to his wife as became a husband." "Ah! thou art unbearable! Did he lie at her feet?" "Not exactly. That would not have been quite appropriate in so great a company; but there seemed, on the whole, to exist a good understanding between them." "A good understanding! Thou talkest quite pitifully. Perhaps thou wilt think that I ought to thank God that they don't quarrel!" "That thou canst not do, for they do quarrel!' "Good gracious. And about what?" "Heaven knows what was the occasion; but he said, 'My sweet Serena, my wife, it shall be as thou wilt!' and she answered, 'No, Bruno, it shall be as thou hast said; it is best so.'" "Well, thank God! How thou canst frighten one! And how did Bruno look as he said, 'My wife?" "How!-like a husband." "Who adored his wife?" "Why, yes; and who feels that he possesses, in her, life's greatest good." "See! now thou speakest beautifully, my Bear! And then the dinner, Bear? Tell me now a little about the dinner. Describe me all the dishes, in succession. Thou dost not remember them? Oh! it is wretched of thee! Yes, certainly thou rememberest some. Let us see, the first course, for instance, which always relishes the best, what did that consist of?" 66 I believe-of chickens." "Chickens! impossible. Serena cannot have chickens for the first course; she must then have ham to the roast-meat." Bear laughed at my zeal, and, after some other unfortunate attempts to come at a notion of the dinner, I was compelled to give it up, and to tell Bear that he was an unworthy guest, and that I would tell Serena of it. In order to divert my attention and propitiate me, he conjured up, I know not how, a bottle of Bishop, and a basket of splendid preserved fruits, which he had brought from Ramm; compelled, as he said, against his will, by Serena. I was quite enchanted with this little entertainment, fetched glasses, and we sat down to drink healths. We drank the health of the young couple, the health of Ma chère mère, our own, and that of the little unknown. We got quite into a zealous mood with our healthdrinking. We then seated ourselves at the window; it was a lovely evening, and the heaven lay clear over Ramm. A gleam from the setting sun illuminated the dark wood; and I recollected that I had once before seen this, and had thought on Serena. I saw the shore, before so dusky, now brightly lit up. I looked at Bear, who did not turn his full-moon face away from me; a warmth glanced about my heart, tears came into my eyes, and I said, pointing towards Ramm, “It is more clear there, Bear; now there are happy hearts there." "No happier than here," said Bear, as he drew me tenderly to him, and held me fast on his knee. The sunshine slowly died away; the shore was again shrouded in gloom; and, with a sigh, I added, “Ah! who knows how long they will continue happy there? God knows whether Bruno, this unquiet spirit, can be at peace!" A melodious tremour passed through the air, and appeared to answer to my sigh. I was startled, and we listened at the open window. The organ at Ramm was pealing, but not as formerly; tones like those of Handel's Messiah issued from it. I leaned my head against Bear's, and thus we sat in the warm May evening, and listened, And till late in the evening the organ sounded even more beautifully, more peacefully, as it seemed to me; and I called to mind the last words of the Legend of the Neck: "Then the Neck wept no more, but took his harp, and played and sung sweetly till deep in the night, for he now knew that he should be saved." Ma lighted me. Ma chère mère grows ever more quiet and gentle, goes often to church, and her proverbs become ever more biblical. Her heart seems now, more than formerly, to desire to make men happy. She gives much to the poor; among the rest, old linen; and through that prepares, according to the lively expression of a young and amiable lady, "her heavenly purple." Jane Maria related a scene between Elsa and Ma chère mère, which gave me pleasure. chère mere had to-day knocked down and broken a couple of china cups which stood on a table. She was put out of humour by it. She will sometimes, in little matters, act too much the person who can see; and in the heat of the moment lets fall, "The Hangman !" and similar expressions of anger on Elsa, for having put them in the wrong place. Ma chère mère was wrong; but Elsa, who formerly always protested with strong words against any injustice of the kind, now let it pass very quietly for her own fault. A moment afterward, as Ma chère mère sat binding her net, and let her needle fall under the sofa, Elsa-who is always at hand when she can be of service-went down on her knees to pick it up, and gave it to her again. Ma chère mère, on this, laid her arm gently round her faithful servant, and said, with emotion, "My dear Elsa, what should I do if I had not thee!" Elsa embraced the knees of her mistress, pressed her forehead against them, and a tear of tenderness and joy quietly rolled down her bony cheek. Jean Jacques regulates and commands freely at Carlsfors; abolishes all abuses; and makes many useful arrangements. He is an active and highly-informed man; and talks less, since he has done more. He and Jane Maria extend their influence continually at Carlsfors, while Mu chère mère seems more and more to withdraw herself from the affairs of the world. Music gives her more pleasure than ever; and she has once said that she could wish to die amid the sound of Bruno's organ. The next week she is going to give the new-married pair a great dinner. Miss Hellevi Hausgiebel will also give, in honour of them, a select soirée. It is said that Nature and Art propose to make a union in the persons of young Robert Stälmark and Adèle Von P. They have made the discovery of each other's excellences at Miss Hausgiebel's soirées, in the course of the winter; have fallen, consequently, in love, and are become thereby much more amiable. Lagman Hök has, during the spring, suffered much from his liver complaint; has been obliged to confine himself long to his room, where he has been diligently visited by his neighbours and friends. Ma chère mère has been twice a week. to see him; and I, too, have now and then passed an hour with the still and interesting old man. Yesterday, Jane Maria informed me he had been again, for the first time, to Carlsfors. Ma chère mere and he walked their trall together, she holding by a line which was stretched across the room. We hear that Cousin Stellan will travel this summer into Italy, on account of his health; in truth, in order to dissipate his ennui; but I fear that this will go along with him. Peter and Ebba are expected in the autumn. It will be a pleasure to see them again, and I shall be anxious to observe how the sisters-in25.-Jane Maria was here yesterday; she law will now agree. Jane Maria expects visits was gay and joyous. I learned various matters from some Stockholm acquaintances, and promfrom her; and, among them, some which de-ises herself a gay summer. Ah! my daughters! . . . Fourteen days later. What is become of my daughters? They have turned themselves into a son; and the young gentleman was uncourteous enough to interrupt the letter to his sisters. There he lies, in the new wicker-cradle, under the green taffety canopy, well grown, round, and fat; and the great Bear is on his knees beside his little Bear. I have a great mind to join him in his idolatry; but Bear, the father, considers it more fitting that the son wait on his mother. I am proud of my little boy, but so it is; I had so certainly calculated on a little maiden that I almost miss it. But, as Ma chère mère comforted me, "Deferring prevents no recurring." But, while all around me rejoice themselves- always extended a helping hand. Lay hold on love, dance, and prepare entertainments-I go, this. perhaps with hasty strides, towards my last home; but I think no longer of it with uneasiness; I have arranged all my little affairs, and hold myself in readiness for what may come. I have written a letter for Bear, which, if I die, shall tell him how dear he is to me, and how happy he has made me during our short union. My poor, good Bear! He is now so uneasy, so anxious about me, that it internally troubles me. I see that he will never do for my doctor; I must now have courage for us both. I will follow the example of a young friend who found herself in a similar situation to mine, and, what was worse, in a solitary house in the country, and hemmed in by snow-drifts; but, that she might keep herself in spirits, she translated some of the finest scenes of Shakspeare. I have no Shakspeare at hand, but I will set on and write an epistle to those who are more the subject of my thoughts. TO MY DAUGHTERS. "What shall I do with my letter, Bear? It is not adapted to the honourable gentleman there." "I will take care of it for our girls; write another for the youngster." Happy, my Maria, is the wife who can, like me, give to her son, from heart and soul, this exhortation: "Resemble thy father!" "No, Bear, thou mayest not see what I have written. Thou mayest not take my paper away, tyrant! I promise to conclude very soon, but I must yet add a word or two." Above all things, my dear daughters, bear in mind that you are human beings. Be good, be true; the rest will follow. As much as possible, be kind to every one, tender to every animal. Be without sentimentality and affectation. Affectation is a miserable art, my daughters; de- These good people and neighbours, from all spise it, as truly as you would acquire moral sides, they have sent me flowers, and jellies, and worth. Do not regard yourselves as very im- all sorts of good things. Serena has nursed me portant, let you have as many talents and en- the whole time, like a sister. She is quiet, kind, dowments as you may; consider nature and life, sympathizing-in one word, like herself; and and be humble. Should you be treated by nature seems to entertain a love for Bruno which is too like a hard stepmother, and be infirm, ordinary, inward to express itself in words. My Maria, 1 or the like, do not be discouraged; you may invite you to stand godmother to my little Bear. draw near to the Most High. Require not much He is to be called Lars Peter, and Ma chère mère from other people, especially from one another. will herself convey him to the font. The art to sink in the esteem of yourselves and here the day after his birth, and laid a beautiful others is, to make great demands and give little. present on his cradle. She spoke with me about If you are straitened in this world, look up to my fears and troubles on this head, and said, Heaven; but not as turkey-cocks, but as believ-"Well, it is in these things as in life, 'All is ing children. Should one of you fall, let her well that ends well."" immediately determine to arise again; to the failing, as well as to the unfortunate, there is She was "No, Bear! my paper-my pen-oh, thou abominable Bear !" THE END. ADAPTED TO TEACHING!-PRICE FIFTY CENTS! MORSE'S SCHOOL GEOGRAPHY, ILLUSTRATED WITH CEROGRAPHIC AMONG its prominent characteristics are the following: MAP S. 1. The Arrangement is such that the Map, Questions on the Map, and description of each country, are on the same page, or on pages directly opposite, enabling the pupil to refer readily from one to the other, without the inconvenience of two books, or even the necessity of turning the leaf. 2 The Maps are more numerous, and generally on a larger scale, than in any other School Geography. 3. The Exercises on the Map are so framed as to present a connected view of the great features of each country. 4. The Descriptions are in a series of short paragraphs, written in concise style, and confined to the most interesting and characteristic matter. 5. The correct Pronunciation of difficult names is indicated by dividing into syllables, accenting, &c. 6. The General and Comparative views at the end of the volume are on the plan first introduced by the author in 1820, and since adopted in many other School Geographies. They are regarded as well fitted to exercise and strengthen the judgment. 7. The new art of Cerography is applied for the first time to the illustration of a work of this kind, and enables the publishers to sell it at a very low price. The whole work is the result of long and careful study, and is intended to impress upon the mind of the student such outlines of geography as will form the best foundation for farther and extensive acquisitions. 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