ceived I noticed her; and yet, with a look of glowing admiration, whispered me, while the lids of her glistening eyes drooped, as if she were saying something which she felt to the innermost core of her heart,

"Edward N. ought to be the happiest man in the world."

The next morning I was called in to see him. I absolutely started on beholding his fine countenance, now unlighted by any expression but that of a dim weariness, an apathy, as of one sick of life. I had never yet thus accompanied him behind the scenes, and as I took his dry, feverish hand, and felt his pulse, he read my astonishment in my looks, and said,

"Well, doctor, you think I am sick?"

"You have certainly exposed yourself since last night," said I.

"Oh, a slight shower," he answered.

"But that was not till late; beside, you returned in a carriage."

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Aye, doctor, but I walked out again." "Walked out again!" exclaimed I.

"What! after

two o'clock, and those heated rooms! Walk out again in a shower? You deserve some pain for such carelessness. What was the matter? Any accident?

He raised his languid eyes.

"Doctor, I have often had a mind to confess to you, but, some how or other, a fear, a silly fear, has prevented me."

His face assumed an expression of horror, and a momentary paleness overspread it.

"Doctor, I am a wretch! a blighted, scathed outcast; life is a curse. Since Providence first created man, this puny creature, this reptile, this basest and meanest of all his productions; he never formed one so low, so unfortunate, so-"

"Why, Edward," I said, chilled through with the singular carnestness, and the apparent agony with which he spoke, "what nonsense has mastered you this morning? You are slightly indisposed-with cold, and a touch of the blues; tomorrow you will be as merry as ever."

"Tomorrow!" he echoed bitterly and sarcastically;

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merry-oh, yes. This is a momentary feeling, I suppose. This withering agony, which has rankled in my bosom for years. Oh no, doctor; the flashes of brief cheerfulness, which you have noticed in society, are a species of intoxication; wine, women, the upspringing of the mind from protracted and gloomy depressionthe natural brightness of my nature gleaming out fitfully; but, when the excitement has passed away, heavens! the slimy toad in the dungeon, the hideous lighthating owl, are not more lonely, dark, and miserable than I."

"And for what, pray, Edward?" said I, smiling.

My incredulity appeared to vex him, and to urge him on to be more communicative than he had at first purposed.

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Doctor, I am laboring under a curse-a_hideous, blasting, unshunnable ban from some demon. It follows me like a shadow, everywhere, everywhere, everywhere. It crosses me in all my plans. It falls like a thunderbolt on all my budding hopes. Every thing I undertake fails; every one I love dies or turns traitor. I have knelt down and prayed that the lightning might strike me, that disease might touch me, or that some sudden accident might break this nightmare dream of existence." I at once perceived my friend was sadly afflicted with hypochondriacism.

"And how long have you supposed yourself so unfortunate?"

"Since my boyhood-it has ever been thus. I am permitted to hope, to believe myself happy. The most delicious and tempting prospects are spread out before my eyes, but when I would approach, just as I have, or as I think I have reached the summit of my desires, the demon strikes-wrenches my heart-stabs, stabs with a dagger, which agonizes for ever, but cannot kill."

I endeavored to persuade him of the impossibility of his suspicion. I urged that all human beings were subject to disappointment, and that while he felt his own, those of others were concealed from his examination.

"Go abroad," continued I; "walk forth through the church yard. It is crowded with mossy stones and stately monuments. The names of sweet women and children, of fathers and mothers; all are written therein

melancholy silence. Each one of those has wrenched fond hearts, has left wrecked hopes and affections. Thousands throng the streets of this great city, whose souls yearn for that unbroken repose; beside, in dwelling too intensely upon your miseries, you overlook innumerable blessings. Every body believes you to be happy. You have health, education, personal advantages, accomplishments, youth, and wealth."

He smiled mournfully.

"Alas, alas! What are these when the heart is a void. All these I could despise, if in their stead I possessed affections, occupied and successful. But the curse of my life has been that these should be always disappointed. I am for ever rolling the rock to the summit to behold it again cast down."

I hinted to him, with an attempt to rouse him into some mirth, that bachelorism was his disease.

"You are surrounded," said I, "by young and lovely

women."

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Aye," said he, "but who loves me? I know that if I should dare to fix my outpouring passions upon any one, it would be singling her out for heaven's wrath, from all the crowd about her. Either she would hate me, or I should be the means of leading her into some misery, now unforeseen and inconceivable. Disease would strike her, or some wintry grief would freeze the current of her sparkling joy."

"Ridiculous," said I, for I noticed that he seemed to waver in his anguish, that the turn which the conversation had taken had touched some string in his bosom, whose vibrations stirred within him more agreeable emotions. With difficulty I persuaded him to unbosom himself to me, and I learned, with the most pleasing surprise that he had conceived a determined passion for the lady who, on the previous evening, had betrayed such a decided interest in him. I mentioned the circumstance; it thrilled him with pleasure. We parted -weeks passed away; and, after the customary preliminaries, their mutual partiality was mutually understood, and they were married. I attended the joyful ceremony, on the completion of which the party set out on a little tour, usual on such occasions, and I required no powerful persuasions to accompany them. Edward's

But

spirits were high. He never appeared to so much advantage. I could perceive how the influence of such circumstances would at length have re-established his mind, and restored the elasticity of his broken spirits. I am rather too far advanced in life to fall into raptures about a face, or a form, be it male or female; for the years which sprinkle snow on a man's forehead also chill the heart, and sober down the restless fancy. the unusual loveliness of the happy bride, the grace and propriety of her deportment, and the evidently favorable sway with which she controlled the wayward gloom of my friend, elicited both pleasure and hope. "She beams upon him," I thought, as the spring sun upon the late frozen earth, and his bosom will change from a desert to a garden clothed with luxuriant verdure." Accustomed, as I am, to the dark incidents of life, the dream that this latest and most specious plan of happiness which my friend had ever formed, might also be broken, never entered my mind. Gloomy, indeed, are the ways of the world. I tremble and shudder to look abroad.

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It was proposed by Edward that the party should deviate a day's journey from their route, for the purpose of visiting a romantic cataract, embosomed among towering cliffs, and presenting a scene of uncommon grandeur and beauty.

She stated no

Mary objected. It was strange. reason, but that she had a fear of that precipitous style of scenery.

"You little coward," said Edward. "She wants your assistance, doctor. You have cured me, you know, and now you shall her."

We accordingly started for the falls.

It was one of those glowing, tranquil summer afternoons, when we reached the scene, which casts a subdued splendor over all nature. The red beams of the declining sun streamed through the green forest, as we wandered down the broken rocks to the spot whence the roar of the cataract proceeded.

Mary had forgotten her fears, and was the liveliest of the company. The sound of her sweet laugh yet rings in my ears; her eyes sparkling with the excitement and exercise, her cheeks glowing, and all her looks and

words compelled me to murmur a prayer of gratitude, that two whom I so loved were completely blessed. "Come, Mary," said Edward, "let us walk to yonder rock. Come, doctor."

"We shall get wet with the spray," said Mary. "Who cares," replied Edward, 66 no one with a soul can take cold with such a scene before his

eyes. Come along, you coward! What are you afraid of?"

Our voices were lost in the deafening roar of the heavy body of water which swept beautifully over the precipice, and poured, splendidly flashing, in one unbroken sheet of green, white, and gold. Our path was narrow, and led along the very bank of the river, which, after the leap, lapsed by with a silent swiftness, presenting a broad black current of extraordinary depth and power. We picked our road over the broken ledges. I was foremost, Edward next, and lastly the dear, the beautiful, and beloved companion of our journey; the path being too narrow to admit of any other method of reaching the point proposed. The rest of the company had pursued a different direction.

I looked back once. Edward was stooping to pick up a shell. Mary flung a little pebble at me, and shook her head laughingly. I turned away, and in a moment again looked back. Never shall I forget the shockthe horror that thrilled through my soul, at the sight which then blasted my view. Edward was standing in an attitude of frenzy, his eyes starting from their sockets, his hands clasped convulsively together, his lips quivering, and his face terribly pale. Mary was no where to be seen. Her bonnet and plume floated

on the water.

GLANCES AT THE DRAMA.

MUCH has been said and written respecting the drama. By some it is represented as a dangerous engine in the hands of the unprincipled, used only to inflame and multiply the passions, and excite in youth that inordinate