to keep up appearances for a short time, we should all have the advantage of getting well married, and then she could reside with one of us alternately. And with this prospect before us, we endeavoured to bear our hardships.

good a husband as you, though it would have of us, and my mouer argued, natif we could only contrive been hard to lose him as soon as you did." "Did Jane really say so? She was partly right. But, my dear Serena, judge for yourself of my happiness, when I tell you that my husband is still living. Nay, do not look so surprised. It is true, I have always spoken of him to you in the past tense, and it is equally true, that he is to me the same as if dead; for more than fifteen years have passed

"Day after day, seated in our garret-room, (that we might be sure to be free from all prying eyes,) did we toil with needle-work, which we got secretly through the instru

EVERY NUMBER EMBELLISHED WITH A STEEL ENGRAVING.

THREE DOLLARS A YEAR.

VOLUME III.

G. P. MORRIS AND N. P. WILLIS, EDITORS.

NEW YORK, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 1844.

RAIL-ROAD BRIDGE OVER THE PATAPSCo.

THE engraving for this week is very fine-from one of Bartlett's clever drawings, representing the rail-road bridge over the Patapsco.

THE following touching and most truthful story is by a lady of extraordinary natural talent for narrative. We recommend to her to cultivate it, and take a little more pains with what is but secondary, her style. The view of life here given is original and new, and comes from the glance of genius.

INTRODUCTION.

PLEASE accompany me, dear reader, to a handsomely furnished drawing-room, wherein are seated two ladies one in the first flush of youth and beauty, the other far

their wane.

PAYABLE IN ADVANCE.

NUMBER 24.

since we parted; yet I heard, six months ago, that he was

well, and as likely to remain so as myself. My destiny has been a strange one, and shows how much sorrow may spring, through an erring judgment, without any just cause. I seldom dare let my thoughts roam over the past; but for your sake, I will relate the strange and eventful history that has made me even more unhappy than a widow, and of which none living has ever before heard me speak."

THE AUNT'S STORY.

"Although you have seen me surrounded with wealth and its appliances, there has been a time when I have even wanted a meal. My father was a wealthy merchant, doing prominent place among the aristocracy of city life. Our a large business; and, for years, our family occupied a most house was large and sumptuously furnished, and we exerincised the most generous hospitality. Such a style of living, and it can hardly be wondered, that when he was suddenly of course, swallowed up my father's income to the utmost, taken from us, it was found that but little provision had been made for his family. The vortex of expense into which he had irresistingly been drawn, by my mother, and his cwn desire to overtop his neighbours, depended entirely upon the large profits daily accruing from his business; and when sufficient was left to pay every debt he owed; but still, a his affairs came minutely to be examined, it was found that small annuity only remained for his family.

Mrs. Gordon and her niece, Serena, were well known and estimated by a large circle of acquaintances. The society in which they moved was considered the first in the place where they resided, and their wealthily-endowed ||

establishment added much to their popularity and in

fluence.

It was Serena's first winter "out," and already had a fair share of homage been laid at her feet, but, apparently, without much effect upon her heart. She seemed affectionately attached to her widowed aunt, who, in her turn, seemed to make her neice's happiness her first and principle aim. But they are earnestly conversing just now. We will pause

and listen.

"But you say you have no preference, Serena ?"

"None, whatever, my dear aunt, at present; but, perhaps, in time I might fancy Mr. Wentworth sufficiently well to become his wife—that is, if you should anxiously

desire it."

This would have been sufficent for the necessaries of

life, and many of its comforts also, had it been managed properly, and could my mother have consented to come

down to her change of fortune; but this she would not do. Her style of living had become as necessary to her existence as the food she ate; and the utmost she would consent to, house, where, if she was not at the head of the circle she was to remove to a smaller, but still fashionably situated moved in, she still could hold a place in it, though it must be confessed it was but a slippery one.

“Me? oh no, my dear child! Not for the world, would I seek to influence your choice, and I am happy that your The rent of our new abode almost swallowed up cur affections are as yet free. But what do you think of Mr. income, and of course it became necessary to devise some Heardman? He is, to be sure, several years your senior; but, then, he is highly respectable, and very wealthy, and, Imother seemed to forget that food and raiment were as ncmeans of getting the common necessaries of life, for our

cessary to existence as a fine house and furniture. Of course, all our efforts must be made without the knowledge of our friends and fashionable acquaintances.

"Oh! the drudgery of keeping up appearances! The professed slave, toiling as hard as he may in the fields of his owner, with the lash over his head, knows nothing of the bitterness, the mortifications, the constant and untiring labour, borne by those who, having been at the top of the fashionable ladder, know not how to descend, and still keep striving to balance themselves upon a single straw!

"And such was our position! There were four daughters of us, and my mother argued, that if we could only contrive to keep up appearances for a short time, we should all have the advantage of getting well married, and then she could reside with one of us alternately. And with this prospect before us, we endeavoured to bear our hardships.

"Day after day, seated in our garret-room, (that we might be sure to be free from all prying eyes,) did we toil with needle-work, which we got secretly through the instru