FOR THE AMERICAN MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

EDWARD BROWN.

"Maidens, like mo'hs, are ever caught by glare,

"And Mammon wins his way, where seraphs might despair."

BYROS. BRIGHT and beautiful shone the "fair round moon" on the pleasant green banks of the quiet Schuylkill, where EDWARD BROWN and RUTH CUMMING sat in their youthful loveliness. It was not the first time they had sat there together, nor was it now for the first time that the fair face of that loving boy had been clouded with grief and sorrow. Ruth Cumming was the daughter of an opulent farmer of Pennsylvania, who possessed a considerable estate on the borders of this romantic river, where he had for many years resided. The girl was naturally amiable, and had a disposition that might have rendered any man happy; but there was unfortunately in her constitution a touch of that pride of ancestry, which was her father's master failing, and which induced both him and her to fook with jealous eyes into the rank and station of every young adventurer that presumed to approach their domains. Edward Brown had however been an exception to the general rule. He had lived in the neighbourhood from his infancy, had been the playmate of Ruth in her childish days, and had been on terms of intimacy in the family ever since. It was a mind of no common character which brightened in the delicate youth; and he had a face and a heart, that gained him admiration and love wherever they were seen and known. But it was Edward Brown's misfortune to be poor, and poverty was the deadly fiend that undermined the foundation on which he had built his happiness, and finally overthrew the fair and beautiful superstructure.

Many years had seen the boy and the girl linked together like brother and sister, in harmony and peace. They were now both on the verge of maturity, and Edward began to question in his own mind, whether the fair Ruth was not something more to him, than any other being in the wide, wide world. He felt that it was so; and he failed not, ere long, in the innocence and simplicity of his heart, to tell to the young creature how fondly and deeply he loved. Ruth answered nothing, but there was a new and indefinite idea passed across her mind, connected with the contrasted images of a lordly mansion and a mud cottage. Love, even though it be silent, cannot long lie concealed, and it began soon to be suspected that there was something in Edward Brown's present attention to her beyond the affection which

had united them in childhood. Now commenced the work of interested calculation, and it was soon decided in the mind of the aristocratical Gilbert Cumming, that the poor boy could never support his daughter in that style of splendour, which, in his view was indispensible to her happiness. Besides, could he submit to an alliance with the humble family of the Browns? Oh! no, he could not; it would be a lasting, an eternal disgrace to his noble line of ancestry! So it was determined to discourage the honorable youth's pretensions, and to shut him out, as much as possible, from an intercourse with the household. These views were made known to Ruth, and met her approbation, though she did not acknowledge the necessity of breaking off all intercourse, and in her own mind resolved not to abide by it, so that, although Edward thenceforth visited no more at the hermitage, as the seat of the Cummings was called, yet she took no pains to avoid him, and they often met, the unrelenting girl and her desponding lover; in the dark woods and verdant fields, in the morning, at mid-day, or by the evening twilight.

It was in this way that they had encountered each other at the time of which we speak, and there they sat, the one with a countenance that spoke deep and heart felt anguish, and the other with a look of cold and stern indifference. Yet sweetly was the face of Nature smiling on them both. All was silent solemnity around, undisturbed by aught save the occasional screech of an owl in the far off wood, or the wild voice of the broad winged night-hawk, that sailed slowly and majestically over the tops of the forest trees. The river, pent in by its locks and dams, spread itself out into a silver lake, which unruffled by a single breeze, reflected back all the beauties of earth and sky.

The inverted shadows of the trees and bushes along its bank were almost as clear as the upright reality and deep down in its limpid bed the beholder was presented with a second azure heaven, all studded with its tiny twinkling stars. It was an hour of peace, and every thing around seemed to be sleeping in the quiet moonlight. But Edward Brown had no room for such thoughts as these; and he sat on the green bank, beneath the shade of an old elm tree, pouring out anew his vows and protestations to that cold and cruel, but yet lovely girl. But she turned away from his affectionate entreaties, and only answered, "Edward, I have told you before I cannot listen to your suit." "Then," said he "it is all in vain. I know how it is; I know very well how it is, but answer me, Ruth, now in the openness of thy heart, can Walter Wray ;-nay, start not, for I know the name,can Walter Wray, with all his wealth and splendour, love thee with an affection passing mine, can he render thee more happy than thou wouldst have been in the bosom

of thy poor broken-hearted Edward? Yes! Yes! I know where the secret lies. I know the sordid motive that would induce thy wretched father to sacrifice his daughter's bliss at the shrine of grandeur, and would make thee the victim of a cold, calculating, criminal avarice. Yes! I know it all, and I have lived through it all, and through all the contumely that it has brought upon me; but I love thee yet, Ruth, dearly do I love thee, notwithstanding all the cruel things thou hast said and done to me; and if I see theewedded to another I shall die, Ruth, because the hope that I have cherished will then be lost. Let me press thy fair hand, and kiss thy cheek for the last time, and when thy poor Edward Brown is broken-hearted and lies cold in the sod, forgotten by his fellows, then mayst thou be happy, yea, even in the palaces of Walter Wray; and may no thought of the poor peasant boy ever come across thy mind to mar the enjoyment of thy social or solitary hours. Forget him and be happy. Farewell, Ruth, farewell, we can meet no more!" And as he spoke, the distracted youth tore himself away, rushed into the wood, and was soon lost in the deeper shades.

It was not without reason that Edward Brown had spoken disrespectfully of Walter Wray. He was a man of the most unprincipled character and most dissolute manners, alike destitute of the generous feelings of nature and the amiable qualities of the heart. His capacity was too mean to excite to ambition, and his habits too indolent to rouse to enterprise; and he was exactly one of those beings, who in any other situation than that which he held, would have met with the merited contempt of his fellow creatures. But Walter Wray was possessed of that redeeming talisman, which even more certainly than charity itself, suffices in these degenerate days, to cover a multitude of sins. He was rich, and that was a sufficient passport to the honour and respect of the world at large, to the esteem of the mercenary Gilbert Cumming, and, shall I say it? to the love of his fair and only daughter! Strange indeed it may appear, but so it was, and Edward Brown had now nothing to do, but to look on and be-hold the fulfilment of that contract, which promised to dissever the last string that now remained unbroken in his heart.

The day appointed for the nuptials of Walter Wray and RuthCumming at length arrived, and the evening shades brought near the hour that was to unite them in the solemn bands of matrimony. A large company was gathered together, and all was now mirth and revelry; every face beamed with smiles and every heart leaped for joy. One alone was excepted from the general rejoicing, and that was one who at this season should have been the gayest of the gay, it was the heart of Ruth Cumming that now sunk heavy within her, and though every one attributed her agitation to something foreign from the true cause,

she herself knew why she was sad, and vainly wished that the cause of that sadness could be removed, But it was now too late, and she mingled with the company, and endeavoured to appear easy and cheerful.

At length the clergyman arrived, and the company rose and gathered into a circle. In the midst was placed the priest in his band and surplice; and Walter Wray and Ruth Cumming, with their attendants, standing before him, he commenced the ceremony. Just at this period the door opened, and a tall, pale figure, with long black hair and mustachios, wrapped in a cloak of tartan plaid, and covered with a slouched hat, quietly glided into the room, and took his station at the outside of the circle. Singular as it was, no particular notice was taken of his appearance, and the ceremony proceeded, while with a feeble voice and palpitating bosom, the agitated girl answered the interrogatories which were necessary to be put ere she could become a wife. The service was at last concluded, and glad was the fair bride when her maidens led her to a chair; and she felt reliev ed that the dreaded ordeal was over. The company now became seated and refreshments were given out; all sat and all partook, save the uninvited guest, and he stood lowering in one corner, almost unobserved amid the general merriment that prevailed around. Now the congratulating friends came about the fair bride to pay their salutations; and many a loving kiss did that soft cheek receive, as it was upheld in modest backwardness to every kindly greeting; one by one they came, particularly the elder of her kindred, each having some wish of benevolence to offer; and sometimes a group of young maidens would cluster around her in harmonious contest for the first pressure of her lips, and almost smother her with their voluptuous embraces. When nearly all had thus passed, the dark stranger approached and stooped to offer his salutation;-it was given, and as he raised his head, he turned his eyes fiercely upon her, whispered tauntingly in her ear "I am Edward Brown!" and precipitately left the room. One scream from the bride sufficed to show that she had fainted, and Walter Wray, ignorant of the real cause, immediately sprang forward to arrest the mysterious stranger. But he was gone, and the irritated bridegroom, forgetting his situation in the impetuosity of his anger, pursued him into the wood. After a while he discovered him tracing his way through the darkness towards the river shore. He had just reached the bank, when he beheld him standing on the summit of a neighbouring rock. He gazed a moment upon the sky-dropped his tartan behind him, and in an instant plunged into the stream below. The agitated waters closed above him, and the fair face of Edward Brown was no more beheld in the land of the living!

0.

"If we do not hurry, gossip, we shall be well drenched”

Old comedy not at present extant!

IF the trite observation be true concerning the good fellowship which subsists betwen the occupants of the same stage-coach, how very familiar must the reader suppose we had now become, shut out, by our situation, from all intercourse with civilized man; and by the enmity of the elements, from all communion with the inhabitants of the village, such as they were. In this latter respect however, I rather imagine that we were not great losers, for from the few glimpses I got of such as dared to venture forth in the rain, they appeared by no means superior to any other videttes of civilization in any village northwest of the Ohio river; being such a set of men as might be expected in a country so thinly settled and so impoverished as this appeared to be.

Our indoor amusements gave place for a few hours this morning to a short excursion by which all seemed greatly refreshed, and our spirits which, when in our prison, had greatly flagged, were now so invigorated that all reserve was by common consent banished. Then for the first time did Heltzenspacker's learning shine forth with becoming splendour, and St. Foix, and the Lowlander poured forth such (doubtless) fine torrents of bonmot and anecdote together, that not one word could be made out, so that my readers must have cause to mourn until the day of their deaths for the excellent ideas thereby lost to posterity and themselves.

But, alas! how transitory are all human enjoyments? That treacherous quartetto, Boreas and Brothers, had no sooner seen King Eolus safely laid under the table by the influence of t'other bottle, than snatching the master key from his waistcoat pocket, they deserted their care. In other words (kindly added for the benefit of all who have not dipped into Tooke) the best and only