usages of the world. Madame Servin did not approve of her conduct, and begged to be excused from receiving her under her present circumstances. Louis, therefore, obtained for her a small lodging with a respectable matron, near to that he had himself for some time occupied. Here she remained until the marriage could be solemnised. Her mother had traced her retreat, and sent her a variety of things necessary for a young wife, together with a purse of money. A short note accompanied the present, stating that it was sent unknown to the count, and contrary to his injunctions. In her desolation, this mark of maternal kindness drew from Ginevra a flood of tears and a feeling of remorse, which the consolations of Louis alone could efface.

At length the day of the marriage arrived. Ginevra saw no one around her to hail the event. Louis procured two witnesses, who were necessary to attest the ceremony. One of them had been in the company he commanded in the Guards, and was now keeper of a livery-stable. The other was a butcher, the landlord of the house which was to be their future residence. These good people attended upon the occasion, as if an ordinary affair of business was to be transacted. They were dressed neatly and plainly, though nothing announced that they made part of a nuptial-fête. Ginevra herself was simply habited, conforming to her fortune, and an air of gravity, if not of coldness, seemed to reign around.

As the church and the mayor's office were not far distant, Louis gave his arm to the bride, and, followed by the two witnesses, they proceeded on foot to the place of their espousal. After the formalities were gone through, and their names signed, Luigi and Ginevra were united. It was with difficulty they got an old priest to celebrate their union, and to give it the Church's benediction, since the ecclesiastics were all eager in their services to more distinguished couples. The priest hastened over the ceremony, and after uniting them before God, as the mayor had united them according to law, he finished the mass, and left them. The marriage

being thus celebrated in its two forms, they quitted the church, and Louis conducted his wife to their humble residence.

For the space of a year from their union as man and wife, Louis and Ginevra enjoyed as perfect a happiness as could fall to the lot of mortals. Though living far apart from luxury or extravagance, they were too much lovers to regard either as essential to their bliss. The time passed gaily onwards, and unheeded by the youthful couple, who could not part even for an hour. If Ginevra ever thought of her parents, it was to regret that they could not view and share her happiness. But with the expiration of the year, came care to corrode their joy. With the buoyant feeling of youth, unacquainted with the horrors of poverty, they laughed at its approach. 'I can paint, my Louis,' said Ginevra ; 'we can easily support ourselves.' And she prepared to exercise those talents for her subsistence which in other days had tended to her amusement. She executed copies from the old masters, and Louis set out to sell them. But he was ignorant of their value, and of the persons from whom to obtain it. He was content to sell them to an old-furniture broker at a very low price. Yet Ginevra was pleased to find that her exertions could earn money, and help to maintain her Louis and herself. She redoubled her assiduity, and finished several pieces; she laboured with the zeal and ardour of a proselyte. Her exertions conveyed a reproach to her husband, who was determined no longer to sit in idleness, whilst his wife worked incessantly. After long consideration, he felt himself equal to no employment save that of copying legal or other documents. He made a tour round the offices of the attorneys and notaries of Paris, soliciting papers to copy. He thus added to their uncertain income, and, by the exercise of industry, they kept poverty at a distance, and beat back the approach of want. At length the hour of suffering and mental anguish arrived, as it will sooner or later to individuals so situated.

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At a certain season of the year, the law-offices in Paris are free from business; and for nearly four months, Louis Porta was thrown out of employment. His wife had not for some time had the brush in her hand, as she had just given birth to a son. The fees of the medical men had been raised by disposing of part of their furniture. The remainder would have speedily followed, had not the landlord seized it for rent. The wretched husband saw his wife pining for lack of sustenance, and the He was infant sucking a dry and exhausted breast. without the means of procuring a morsel of bread. With the madness of despair, he rushed into the street, and wandered in the midst of the brilliant equipages which crowded the city, and of that reckless luxury which seems so insulting to poverty. He passed by the shops of money-changers, where heaps of gold were exposed, one solitary piece from which would have rendered him frantic with joy. But no resource opened itself in his extremity. Anything seemed just, if he could save the life of Ginevra-to steal, to rob, to murder. To what crime his frenzy might have led him, is doubtful; but fortune saved him from its commission. He had turned his steps unconsciously towards the hotel of the When he arrived at it, the gate Count di Piombo. stood open. He entered, and sprang up stairs. In a moment, he stood before Piombo, who was seated near the fire, for the night was cold and wet.

Who are you?' cried the old count, starting up in alarm.

'Your daughter's husband,' answered Luigi.

And where is my daughter?' he asked with a trembling accent.

'On her death-bed from starvation!' shouted Louis with wildness.

'Not yet dead?'

'Is there any hope left?' urged the father eagerly.
A piece of gold may save her, if it be speedily applied,'
plied the husband.

Here is my purse,' said Piombo; tell Ginevra I have pardoned her, and she may come and see me.'

She will not come in this world, I fear,' answered Luigi, as he took the purse and flew from the room.

'Shall we not follow him, and see our daughter-our Ginevra?' said the old man to his wife, who had sat immovable during the preceding discourse, whilst the first tears he ever shed fell down his furrowed cheeks.

"O yes-with all speed,' cried Madame di Piombo. She rang the bell. Order a coach to the door instantly,' said she to the servant who appeared.

At midnight, the aged parents entered the room of their unfortunate child. Ginevra had just expired; her infant was also dead. Louis hung over the wretched bed upon which they were extended. The physician whom he had procured in his haste had taken up his hat to depart. It was a scene to move the iron heart even of Piombo. Our feud is at an end,' said he to Luigi Porta. There lie the last of my race. I am a miserable, broken-hearted old man. I suffer punishment from God for not hearkening to her who is now an angel. Yes, Porta, this is a scene on which thy father might have gloated; but with the corpse of my daughter, I bury my enmity.'

Such was the concluding scene in the history of the feud betwixt the families of Piombo and Porta, and which cannot be contemplated without producing the moral reflection, that the daughter's imprudence and disobedience was not more severely punished, than the unchristian enmity and hard-heartedness of the father.

MANY SLIPS BETWEEN THE CUP AND THE LIP.

WE have an amusing instance of the truth of this proverb in the following story, which we quote from an old London newspaper :-A gentleman residing at Hearne Bay-a sea-bathing place on the coast of Kent, and a favourite resort of the Londoners-left the Tower-stairs by one of the Margate steam-packets, one fine Saturday morning in the month of September, having previously written home to his family at Hearne Bay, to say he should certainly be with them by dinner-time that same afternoon. Precisely at four o'clock that afternoon, the steamer was off Hearne Bay; and if the Hearne Bay boatmen would but have put off in the teeth of a stiff nor'-easter, and have pulled only three miles and a half over a bit of a heavyish swell, the gentleman might have been safely delivered at home just in pudding-timeprovided he did not get swamped by the way. But the boatmen would not put off at all, which certainly was very stupid on their parts-for the steamer would not have had to wait much more than an hour for them; and in the meantime, to prevent the said stiff nor'-easter from driving her bump ashore, she could have easily let go her anchor, and have remained where she was quite comfortable-provided the anchor would hold. However, the gentleman had only to go on with her to Margate; and as there would still be time enough for him to get back to Hearne Bay, by coach, before the pudding was cold, he did not much care. Well, they were very soon off Margate; and no doubt the Hearne Bay gentleman, together with all the other passengers, would have been punctually landed there, only the steamer happened to come there just in the tail of the ebb tide, so that there was not water enough for her in the harbour; and the waves, under the influence of the nor'-easter aforesaid, were kicking up their heels so furiously upon the jetty,