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She vithdrew her mask, and presented to the astonished Doricourt the features of Miss Hardy-of his wife-he staggered back; then, clasping her in his arms, wept on her neck! Old Hardy was delighted; Doricourt was in raptures, the wedding was kept with the utmost joy and festivity-it was indeed a day of rejoicing, the prelude to years of happiness--each passing hour increased Doricourt's admiration of his fascinating wife, whose cultivated mind, numerous accomplishments, and perpetual variety of character, were so many irresistible claims on his love and esteem! and at the end of many years, Doricourt was heard to declare with pride and joy-that his honey-moon was not yet expired!

His happiness was pure, without alloy,
His wife at once, his pride, delight and joy;
And passing years no traces left behind
Of peevish discontent-each tender mind
Strove fondly every moment to improve;
And Hymen's torch was still the torch of love.

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Come on, poor babe!

Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens,
To be thy nurses! wolves, and bears, they say,
Casting their savageness aside, have done

Like offices of pity. ***

As Polidor, a simple clown, the son of an old shep herd of Bohemia, was hastening home to avoid a rising storm, his ears were assailed by the piteous cries of one in distress; when his humanity tempted him to run and offer his assistance, but a sense of danger induced him to act with caution. On advancing towards the place whence the sound issued, a sight of horror struck his view. A gentleman, richly apparelled, was vainly struggling in the gripe of a ravenous bear, who tore him with merciless fury! His cries were dreadful, and on beholding Polidor he implored his help-offered him great rewards, and said his name was Antigonus, a nobleman--but his appeal was quickly ended, for in the midst of his supplications, the savage beast tore out his heart, when he gave one loud and lengthened

groan of agony and then his voice was hushed in endless silence. The poor clown wept; but this was not the only affecting appeal to his humanity. While this horrid scene of carnage was acting, the threatening storm arose to appalling fury; the heavens appeared one sheet of living fire; the peals of thunder seemed to shake the very earth to its foundation the sea roared tremendously, and a fine ship was tossed to and fro upon its raging billows! Now the masts seemed as they would touch the fiery sky, and now again were buried in the foaming waves; the poor wretches on board wrung their hands in agony, and pierced the air with lamentations of indescribable anguish. At length, just at that dreadful moment when the bear tore out the heart of Antigonus, the vessel was dashed upon a rock. Piercing shrieks, for an instant, overtopped the raging of the storm--and in the next, all was lost-no vestige remained of ship or passengers-all swallowed by the boisterous waves.

Polidor stood like one petrified; he strained his eyes to perceive some traces of the vessel; and his ears to listen for a sound from the poor gentleman, but all in vain no voice was heard, no one was seen, and the youth, though not much given to softness, wept as he slowly retraced the path to his father's cottage. He had not proceeded far, when he stumbled upon the old shepherd, seemingly lost in a trance, kneeling on the ground, bare headed, regardless of the storm which had just past, and gazing intently on an infant, which he had taken from a box, well stored with gold and jewels.

"What have you there, father, (inquired Polidor) mercy be good unto us-a babe."

"Yes, yes, troth, and a pretty babe too, Polidor, and money to boot-look here boy."

The old shepherd had been so occupied in contemplations of this fairy gift, as he called it, that he

had never heeded the pelting of the storm, and was dripping wet with the rain; while the innocent child, who had engrossed all his attention, undisturbed by the warfare of the elements, slept soundly. The old

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man hastened home with his prize; but Polidor returned, as he said, to see if the bear had finished his dinner on the gentleman, and if he had, and there were any scraps left, he would turn sexton and bury

them.

Polidor and his father, on his return, counted over the money again and again; and, tempted by the sight of so much wealth, resolved to keep the circumstance secret. The parents of the infant they doubted not had perished in the vessel; little danger of discovery therefore was to be apprehended; they however removed to some distance from their present residence, where the pretty foundling was brought up as the shepherd's daughter, ignorant of ner high birth, but under the name of Perdita, which was written on a label and pinned to her bosom.

This infant was daughter of Leontes, King of Sicilia; and, by the order of her cruel father, had been sent from home for the purpose of being thus

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