Poor Rosalie.
BY MRS. OPIE.
[Concluded.]

avenge her murdered friend, and clear herself.
But how should she proceed? It was evident
that the man was going away from that spot.
What should she do?—and Madelon was not
at home to advise her. No time was to be
lost; therefore, throwing a veil over her head,
she hastened to the house of the chief of the
municipality, which was on the road to the town
mentioned before. Fearfully did she go, as
she run a risk of meeting the ruffian by the
way, and she thought he might suspect her
errand. But she reached the house unseen
by him, and requested an immediate audience.
It was not till she had sent in her message,
and was told the magistrate would see her in a
few minutes, that she recollected in what a
contemptible light, as the utterer of such weak
self-admiration, she was going to appear; but
she owned it was a humiliation which she had
well deserved, and she must not shrink from
it. When she was summoned into the presence
of the magistrate, she was so overcome that she
could not speak, but burst into tears,

What is the matter, my poor girl,' said he;
and who are you? Come, come, I have no
time to throw away on fine feelings; your
business, your business!'

Rosalie crossed herself devoutly, struggled with her emotion, and then, though with great effort, asked him if he recollected to have heard of the murder of an old lady, in such a village, and at such a time.

6

THE next morning, as Rosalie was working at her needle, and deeply ruminating on the trying duty which awaited her, while, as I noticed before, the heat of fever, now aided by emotion and anxiety, had restored to her much of her former beauty, by flushing her usually pale cheek with the most brilliant crimson, she heard a manly voice, in the next garden, singing a song which reminded her of her native village, and of her mother-for it was one which she used to sing; nor could she help going to the window to look at the singer. She saw it was a carpenter, who was mending some pales; and she was listening to him with melancholy, but pleased attention, when the man looked up, and, seeing her, started, broke off his song immediately, and stood gazing on her with an earnest, and, as she thought, sarcastic expression; which was so disagreeable to her, that she left the window, and the man sung no more. The next day Rosalie saw him come to his work again, but she withdrew immediately, because he looked at her with the same annoying and unaccountable expression as on the preceding day. The following afternoon, when, as she knew, a fair was held in the village, she saw the man appear with his cheek flushed, and his gait unsteady, from evident intoxication. He was dressed in his holiday clothes, had some tools in a bag hanging on his arm, and was gathering up some others which he had left on the grass; and thence Rosalie concluded he was not coming to work there any more. As he had not yet observed her, she continued to observe him; when suddenly he lifted up his head, and, as his eyes met hers, he exclaimed, in a feminine voice, as if mimicking some one, Oh, the pretty arm !—Oh, the pretty arm and then ran out of the garden. At first, Rosalie stood motionless and bewildered; but, the next moment, conviction of a most important truth flashed upon her mind. She well remembered when, elated by vanity, she had uttered these memorable words. It was when she believed herself alone, and on the night of the murder! But they had been overheard! He, therefore, who had just repeated must have overheard them-must have been concealed in the room in which she had spoken them, and must He! what! oh, he is thy accomplice, I consequently have seen her, himself unseen.suppose, and you have quarreled; so thou art Then, no doubt, she had beheld, in the man going to turn informer-is that the case?' who had just quitted the garden, the murderer Indeed, sir, I am innocent.' of her benefactress! Never was there a more clear and logical deduction, and, in Rosalie's mind, it amounted to positive conviction: but was it sufficient to convince others? There was the difficulty; but Rosalie saw it not. And, in a transport of devout thankfulness, she fell on her knees, exclaiming that the hand of the Lord had led her thither, that she might

To be sure I do,' said he and a young girl, who lived with her, was tried for the murder.'

'Yes-and acquitted!'

True; but I thought very wrongfully, for I believe that Rosalie, something or other, was guilty.'

Again the poor Rosalie crossed herself; then raising her meek eyes to his, she said in a firm voice, She was innocent, Sir; I am Rosalie Mirbel.'

Thou! then looks are indeed deceitful,' replied the magistrate, fixing his eyes intently and severely upon her.

Not so, if I look innocent,' she answered. But what can be thy business with me, young woman?'

I am sure I have discovered the real murderer; and I come to require that you take him into custody on my charge.'

6

'I do not know.'

Then how could I take him up ?-and on what ground? On mere suspicion? On what dost thou rest thy charge? But thou art making game of me. Away with thee, girl!'

Then,

Not till you have heard me.' rendered fluent by a feeling akin to despair, she told what even to herself began to seem her improbable tale. Though Rosalie expected to feel considerable mortification while relating her own weakness, the effect on the magistrate was such as to overwhelm her with shame; for, repeating over and over again, Oh, the pretty arm!-Oh, the pretty arm!' he gave way to the most immoderate laughter; but, when he recovered himself, he asked Rosalie, in the sternest voice and manner, how she could dare expect that, on such trumpery evidence as this is, he should take up any man, and on such an awful charge as the one which she presumed to bring; and against a man, too, of whom she knew neither the name nor the abode. Rosalie now for the first time, seeing how slight to any one but herself, the proof of the man's guiit must be, sunk back upon a seat in an agony of unexpected disappointment and despair.

And you do not believe me?—and you will not take him up!' she exclaimed, wringing her hands.

Certainly not. Recollect thyself! What! is a man's telling a young girl she has a pretty arm a proof that he has committed a murder?' But you know that is not all.'

Certainly not; and he saw and heard me, also, that fatal night; and I tell you again he is the murderer!'

But listen, young woman; art thou prepared to assert that on that night, and that night only, thou wast ever betrayed into

'Girl! girl! dost thou expect me to believe praising thy own beauties?' this?-What is he?

'A carpenter,'

'I am-it was the first and only time,'. And thou expectest me to believe this?' 'I do.'

Why, girl, it is most unnatural and improbable!'

But it is true and even then I was only repeating the praises I had overheard.'

Well, then, art thou desirous of making thyself out to be a paragon of perfection and that will not help thy suit at all, I can assure thee. Besides, in this case the poor man might only be expressing his own admiration of thy arm as seen at the window.' Impossible! In the first place, he did not see it, and, if he had, it has lost the little beauty it once possessed. See!' she cried, baring her now meagre arm, Is this an arm to be praised? It tells the tale of my misery, Sir; and, if you refuse to grant me this only || chance of clearing my reputation and avenging the death of my benefactress, that misery will probably destroy me!"

'Young woman,' he replied in a gentler tone, I see thou art unwell and unhappy, and I would oblige thee if I could do so conscientiously; but recollect, the charge is one affecting life!'

So was the charge against me; but, being innocent, I was acquitted; and, if I cannot establish my charge against him, so must he be 'But then a stain will rest on the poor man's character.'

Without difficulty!' said Rosalie, turning on him a meaning, though modest glance; Have I found no difficulty in making these words convict him?"

Well but, young woman,' replied the magistrate smiling; 'perhaps the man confided in the caution and conscientious scruples of a magistrate; but, what is more likely to be the real state of the case, guilty or not guilty, the fellow was intoxicated, and cared not what he said or did; and at all events, I now feel authorized to apprehend him.'

So, so,' said the magistrate thoughtfully up to heaven, swelling with tears of thank(while Rosalie hung upon his words and fulness. looks); A queer man!-does not stay long The proceedings had not been long begun, in a place !—given to drinking! You may go when Caumont begged to be heard. He began now, Francois; but do not be out of the way.' by assuring the court that he came thither The magistrate then examined and cross-resolved to speak the whole truth: and he examined Rosalie for a considerable time in confessed, without further interrogatory, that the strictest manner; and he also dwelt much he, and he alone planned, and he alone comon the improbability that this man, if conscious mitted the murder in question. At these of being the murderer, should have dared to words, a murmur of satisfaction went round repeat to Rosalie words which must, without the court; and every eye was turned on difficulty, lead to his conviction.' Rosalie, who, unable to support herself, threw herself on the neck of the exulting Madelon. Caumont then gave the following detail:-He said that, as he passed through the village, he had heard at a public-house that the old lady was miserly and rich; that, having lost his last penny at a gaming-table, he resolved to rob the house when he heard how ill it was guarded, but had no intention to commit murder unless it was necessary; that he stole in, in the dark hour, when the old lady was gone to bed, and had hidden himself in the light closet in the sitting-room before Rosalie returned; that from the window of that closet he had seen and heard Rosalie; that he was surprised and vexed to find she slept in the room of the old lady, as it would, he feared, oblige him to The officers reached the guinguette, or commit two murders, and kill Rosalie first; public-house, at which Caumont had been but that, when he drew near her bed, she drinking, just as he was waking from a deep looked so pretty and so innocent, and he had sleep, the consequence of intemperance; and heard she was so good, that his heart failed was, happily for Rosalie, experiencing the him; besides, she was in such a sound sleep, depression consequent on exhaustion. The there seemed no necessity for murdering her, moment that he saw them enter he changed nor would he have killed the old lady if she color; and, subdued in spirit, and thrown had not stirred, as if waking, just as he entirely off his guard, he exclaimed in a approached her; that he took Rosalie's apron faltering voice, I know what you come for, to throw over her face in order to stifle her and I have done for myself! But I am weary breath, and then strangled her with her own of life;' then without any resistance, he handkerchief. He then took her pocket-book, accompanied the officers, who, very properly, searched the plate closet, carried away some took down his words. When he was con- pieces of plate, and buried them a few miles fronted with Rosalie, she looked like the guilty, off, and had only dared to sell them one piece and he like the innocent person, so terribly was at a time; that he had never ventured to offer she affected at seeing one who was, she believed, || the draft at the banker's-that he had therefore, the murderer of her friend. gained very little to repay him for the de

Immediately, therefore, he sent his officers So it does on the poor girl's, as I know to seize Caumont, and his servant to identify from fatal experience,' replied Rosalie, in the|| him; while Rosalie, agitated but thankful, voice of broken-heartedness. Oh, Sir! had|| remained at the house of the magistrate. you seen this man, and heard him, as I did, mimicking both the voice and manner of a girl, after having looked at me with an expression so strange, so peculiar, and so sarcastic, you could not have doubted the truth of what I say.'

Where, where?' cried he, running to the window. Instantly Rosalie, doubling her veil over her face, pointed him out, as he staggered along the road to the town.

• What! that man with the scarlet chief tied round his hat?'

Yes; that is he.'

He instantly called in one of his servants, and asked him if he should know that man again, pointing to him as he spoke.

Her testimony, but more especially his own struction of his peace, and for risking his words, were deemed sufficient for his commit-precious soul-and that, unable to stay long handker-ment; and the unhappy man, who now pre-in a place, he had wandered about ever since, served a sullen silence, was carried to prison getting work where he could; but that Provito take his trial the ensuing week. The heir dence had his eye upon him, and had brought of the old lady was then written to, and the him and the young girl, who, had, he knew, usual preparations were made. Caumont was, been tried for his crime, thus strangely and meanwhile, visited in prison by the priest; unexpectedly together at this far distant place, and Rosalie passed the intervening time in a and where he seemed to run no risk of state of agitating suspense. At length the day detection; that then the evil one, intending of trial arrived, and the accuser and the accused to destroy him, had prompted him to utter appeared before their judges. With what dif- those words, which had been the means of his ferent feelings did Rosalie enter a court of arrest, and would be of his punishment. justice now, from those which she experienced on a former occasion! Then she was alone, now she was accompaned by the generous, confiding Madelon; now she was the accuser, not the accused; and her mild eye was raised

Know him again, Sir?-I know him already!' replied the servant. His name is Caumont, and he is the carpenter whom I employed to mend our window-shutters.'

And what sort of a man is he?'

A very queer one, I doubt. He never stays long in a place, I hear-and is much given to drinking; but he is a good workman, and is now on his way to do a job in the town to which I have recommended him.'

But,' said he, addressing Rosalie, it is rather hard that you should be the means of my losing my life, as I spared yours. I might have murdered you, but I had not the heart to do it, and you have brought me to the scaffold!'

⚫ Shame on him for it!' cried Madelon, he Madelon, dear Madelon! is not this a blessed does not deserve thee, darling!' day?'

COMMUNICATIONS.

For the Rural Repository.
Contemplation.

I love contemplation. I love Spring. And vicinity. No mere traveler who comes to this when I am called to lay me down among country will do justice to it, if he does not visit forgotten things, I would drop into nature's Northampton. If a traveler in Britain were to bosom when her glory was on her brow-I stumble upon such a place as this, he would would close my eye amid the fragrance of the not fail to inquire whose great estate, was in fields-I would breathe out my last breath to the neighborhood, and attribute the decorations mingle with the sweets of the passing zephyr, of shrubs, flowers, &c. which adorn even the and go down to the tomb with all the beautiful smallest habitations here, to the taste of a simplicity of nature around me. A. B. C. wealthy neighbor, or to his being obliged to make them to promote electioneering views. Here, every thing is done by the people spontaneously, and if any authority is exerted, it is by officers appointed by themselves.

For the Rural Repository.

A Sketch.

While the pious and grateful girl, never SHE was as beautiful as the rose in summer;
forgetting the mercy which had been vouch-like the bud of Spring, her beauty gradually The population of Northampton amounts to
saled to ber in the day of her distress, was unfolded itself to its full perfection. The between 3000 and 4000 and there is only one
daily repeating those words of the patriarch, lightsome step-the cheerful voice-the smil- great broad street, with a few fine trees, in
that had so often shed peace upon her soul :- ing countenance bespoke unalloyed happiness. which are situated the churches and court-
Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him! The young and gay crowded her father's man- house,-buildings decidedly ornamental, and
sion; her habitation rang with songs of re- of considerable size. But the beauty of the
joicing, the melody of youthful voices was place, apart from the situation, arises from the
there. Years rolled on and Alsander revealed || great width of the street, and the light, clean
to Caroline the hidden secret of his heart. appearance of the white, plain houses, with
From the fountain of human existence gushed their verandas, porticos, and green Venitian
forth the tenderness of their first and early blinds, enclosed with handsome white railings
love. The green cypress witnessed their in large pieces of dressed garden-ground, or-
youthful vows, and the reciprocation of lasting namented with large old trees. Northampton
fidelity was borne upon the breeze of night. consists, in truth, of a number of villages of
Sullen fate decreed that those ties of love various sizes, but very pleasing, though irreg-
should be torn assunder.
ular, architects seeming to vie with each
The bloom on her cheek hath faded-the || other in the taste and elegance of their external
brilliancy of her eye hath fled-the buoyancy decorations. There is primitive white lime-
of her spirit is broken,and despair is poisoning
the fountain of her existence. ROBERTUS.

From Stuart's 'Three years in North America.'
Northampton.

stone in the neighborhood, and much of the
pavement and steps are of white marble. The
trees in the neighborhood of the town are

of considerable age;-the roads are wide, and
the foot-paths are excellent every where.-We
were shown the old elms that shadowed the
house of the celebrated President Edwards.
At the hotel where we lodged, kept by Mr.
Warner, the dinner set down to us alone was
as good and as well dressed as at any London
hotel. A very handsome female waiter at-
tended us and took her seat by us, very much
as our equal,

I LOVE Contemplation. I love the fresh
beauty of the Spring that is so wildly bursting
around us. I could ask, is there a heart which
does not beat with rapture, as the eye wanders
along over the green and the red, the blue and
the white, the lights and the shades that rest
on the broad bosom of Spring. The old hills,
that have stood for ages, stand off like senti-
nels, with their summits bound in green-the
forest stretches away at a distance, flinging
its freshness to the far off skies, and a sweet-
ness, which has escaped from the petals of the TRAVELING SKETCHES. single spreading trees, principally of elms and
surrounding flowers, steals softly along amid
the silence and shade of the valley. The blood
of our very existence seems to bound with a
more elastic motion, as we dwell upon such a THE next place of note where we stopped
scene-and our feelings are as bland and fleet was Northampton, in the western part of the
as the wing of the swallow that dips along the State of Massachusetts, and between fifty and
streams. Rossean said to his attendants, sixty miles from Albany, and which, whether
'let me once more behold the sun set on the taking it alone or in conjunction with the
vine-clad hills of France,' and he was borne neighboring country, is decidedly the most
to his window, and his bosom beat as high beautiful village that I have seen in this coun-
at the grandeur of the scene as when in the try. The only place at all to be compared
full tide of health. Oh! what a soul for nature with it is Canandaigua. The villages of New
had he. If there is any season of the year England are proverbial for their neatness and
calculated especially to rouse our sympathies cleanness. Cooper, the well known American
it is Spring. We then think of those who writer, says truly:-New England may justly
sleep where there is no Spring. We think of glory in her villages,-in space, freshness, and
that dark hall where flowers never bloom and an air of neatness and of comfort, they far
the prattle of the joyful brook never breaks exceed any thing I have ever seen even in the
where the chirrup of the bird, as he skims mother country. I have passed in one day six
through the air, echoes not-the rustle of the or seven of these beautiful hamlets, for not one
tree breathes not-where neither freshness of which I have been able to recollect an equal
of the morning nor the dews of the midnight in all my European traveling.' It is, in fact,
reach the dim and noiseless halls of death!|| hardly possible to figure a handsomer country
It is a sad thought, when we behold all nature town than Northampton, or a more charming
waking around us, that she holds those within country than in its neighbourhood; but the
her bosom which she cannot wake-and a town is not more remarkable for neatness and
sadder one still, that many a flower yet may cleanness, and for handsome and suitable build-
bloom, many a dew-drop fall, many a birdings, and houses and gardens, than for beauty
rejoice above the monument of our sepulchre. of situation and the delightful scenery in its

Northampton is surrounded by rising grounds, on one of which is placed a flourishing academy, from which there is one of the best views of the town; but Mount Holyoke, situated on the opposite side of the Connecticut river and about eight hundred feet high, is the hill which all strangers ascend for the sake of the very extensive and glorious prospect from its summit. There is not much difficulty in getting to the top; and the labor is fully repaid by the splendor of the river Connecticut and its windings, and a very rich and fertile valley. This valley contains the most extensive and beautiful plain in New England, well cultivated and populous. About thirty churches all with spires, are seen from the top of Mount Holyoke, from which too, in a clear day, the hills of New Haven, on Long Island Sound, are distinctly visible.

1

How few appear in those streets which but some few hours ago were crowded! and those ||who appear, now no longer were their daily mask, nor attempt to hide their lewdness or their misery.

The whole of the villages from Northampton || repulsed, returned again, conquered by perse- ||been overturned in his carriage, it is extremely to Worcester, are handsomely laid out and verance, and at last swept the defendants into comfortable places, and every thing about undistinguished destruction.' them so neat and so much in order that it is delightful to see them. If we had not been in Northampton in the first place, we should have been more loud in their praise; but about Northampton, there is so much more appearance of real comfort, and of beautiful village scenery, than I have seen any where else, that it is absolutely necessary to moderate the language employed in eulogizing the other villages of New England through which we passed.

MISCELLANY.

A City Night-Piece.

BY GOLDSMITH.

THE clock has just struck two, the expiring taper rises and sinks in the socket, the watchman forgets the hour in slumber, the laborious and the happy are at rest, and nothing wakes but meditation, guilt, revelry, and despair. The drunkard once more fills the destroying bowl, the robber walks his midnight round, and the suicide lifts his guilty arm against his own sacred person.

Let me no longer waste the night over the page of antiquity, or the sallies of contemporary genius, but pursue the solitary walk, where Vanity, ever changing, but a few hours past walked before me, where she kept up the pageant, and now, like a froward child, seems hushed with her own importunities.

What a gloom hangs all around! The dying lamp feebly emits a yellow gleam; no sound is heard of the chiming clock, or the distant watch-dog. All the bustle of human pride is forgotten; an hour like this may well display the emptiness of human vanity.

Evening.

probable that America, instead of being a free republic at this moment, would have continued a dependent colony of England. This country gentleman happened to be Augustus Washington, Esquire, who was thus accidentally thrown into the company of a lady who afterwards became his wife, who emigrated with But who are those who make the streets their him to America, and in the year seventeen couch, and find a short repose from wretch-hundred and thirty two, at Virginia became the edness at the doors of the opulent? These envied mother of George Washington the great. are strangers, wanderers and orphans, whose circumstances are too hnmble to expect redress, and whose distresses are too great THEIR are two periods in the life of man, in even for pity. Their wretchedness excites which the evening hour is peculiarly interestrather horror than pity. Some are without the ing-in youth, and old age. In youth, we love covering even of rags, and others emaciated it for its mellow moonlight, its million of stars, with disease; the world has disclaimed them: its then rich and soothing shades, its still society turns its back upon their distress, and serenity: amid these we can commune with has given them up to nakedness and hunger.our loves, or twine the wreaths of friendship, The poor shivering females have had once while there is none to bear us witness but the happier days and been flattered into beauty. heavens and the spirits that hold their endless They have been prostituted to the gay luxurious sabbath there-or look into the bosom of villain, and now turned out to meet the severity creation, spread abroad like a canopy above of winter. Perhaps now lying at the doors of us, and look and listen until we can almost their betrayers, they sue to wretches whose see and hear the waving wings and melting hearts are insensible, or debauchees who may songs of other worlds. To youth, evening is curse but will not relieve them. delightful-it accords with the flow of his light spirits, the fever of his fancy, and the softness of his heart. Evening is, also the delight of virtuous age; it affords hours of undisturbed contemplation; it seems an emblem of the calm and tranquil close of busy life-serene, placid, and mild, with the impress of its great Creator stamped upon it; it spreads its quiet wings over the grave, and seems to promise that all shall be peace beyond it.

Why, was I born a man, and yet see the sufferings of wretches I cannot relieve! Poor houseless creatures! the world will give you reproaches but will not give you relief; the most imaginary uneasiness of the rich, is aggravated with all the power of eloquence, and held up to engage our attention and sympathetic sorrow. The poor weep unheeded, persecuted by every subordinate species of tyranny, and every law which gives others security becomes an enemy to them.

Why was this heart of mine formed with so much sensibility? or why was not my fortune tempo-adapted to its impulse? Tenderness, without a capacity of relieving only makes the man who feels it more wretched than the object

There will come a time when this rary solitude may be made continual, and the city itself, like its inhabitants, fade away and leave a desert in its room.

which sues for assistance.

What cities, as great as this, have once triumphed in existence, had their victories as Cause and Effect. great, joy as just and unbounded, and, with In the complicated and marvelous machineshort sighted presumption, promised them-ry of circumstance, it is absolutely impossible selves immortality! Posterity can hardly trace to decide what would have happened, as to the situation of some: the sorrowful traveler wanders over the awful ruins of others; and as he beholds, he learns wisdom, and feels the trancience of every sublunary possession.

The Orphan Boy.

How interesting he appears to every feeling mind! A child robbed of his mother, excites universal commiseration, and affection from every bosom. We look forward with anxiety to every future period of his life; and our prayers and our hopes attend every step of his journey. We mingle our tears with his, on the grave of her, whose maternal heart has ceased to beat; for we feel that he is bereaved of the friend and guide of his youth! His father would, but cannot, supply her loss. In some event, if the slightest disturbance had vain the whole circle of his friendships blend taken place, in the march of those that pre- their efforts to alleviate his sorrows, and to fill ceded them. We may observe a little dirty the place occupied by departed worth: a wheel of brass, spinning around upon its greasy mother must be missed every moment, by a axle, and the result is that in another apart-child who has ever known and rightly valued ment, not many yards distant from it, a beau-one, when she sleeps in the grave. No hand tiful piece of silk issues from a loom, rivaling feels so soft as her's-no voice sounds so in its hues the tints of the rainbow; there are sweet--no smile is so pleasant! Never shall myriads of events in our lives, the distance he find again, in this wild wilderness, such between which was much greater than that between this wheel and the ribin, but where the connexion has been much more close. If a private country gentleman in Cheshire, about the year seventeen hundred and thirty, had not

sympathy, such fondness, such fidelity, such tenderness, as he experienced from his mother! The whole world are moved with compassion for that motherless child, but the whole world cannot supply her place to him!