sempstress, and ministered to her wants until a proper nurse could be procured. This was she who had listened unseen to the pure precepts of religion and the tender soothings of kindness, from the lips of the fashionable doctor.

Weeks passed away, while Doctor Selwyn, occupied in his usual round of duties, paid his daily visits to the fair widow and to the dying sempstress. The widow grew no better; her "affection of the heart," seemed to threaten a fatal result to somebody, but whether to the patient or the physician remained yet to be decided. In the meantime the young girl gradually declined, until life was but as the glimmer of a wasted lamp; then, and not till then, when the worn and wearied spirit of the suffering invalid rendered her so nervous and irritable, that only the constant presence of her kind benefactress could quiet her restless excitement, did Doctor Selwyn first learn that the patient and devoted nurse of the poor sufferer, was the eccentric, the sarcastic, the haughty Clara Leslie.

66

My dear doctor, why did you not come last night? I really was afraid I should not live to see the light of another day. Did you not receive my note?" said Mrs. Merton, faintly, as Dr. Selwyn entered the room. "What is the matter, madam? has any unfavorable change taken place since yesterday morning?"

"Alas! I fear so. I have been dreadfully excited. Old Mrs. Sowerby came to see me yesterday afternoon, and some of her ill-natured gossip agitated me to such

an excess, that I have scarcely slept. This palpitation of my heart is frightfully increased, and I have not been able to overcome my faintness long enough to dress."

The doctor looked at the lady's lace cap, curled locks, and ruffled morning dress, and silently felt her pulse.

Mrs. Merton continued-" I wish that woman would not come here with her ridiculous stories-will you believe, doctor, she told me you were actually going to be married to that queer old maid, Clara Leslie! It was too preposterous for belief, but the mere surmise excited me to a degree almost fatal to my poor nerves. Do allow me, my dear sir, to contradict the report on your own authority."

"You have my authority, madam, for stating that I do not anticipate any such union," said Doctor Selwyn, quietly.

"I knew it-I knew it!" exclaimed Mrs. Merton, quite forgetting her faintness, as she rose to an upright position. "Oh, doctor, if you only knew how easily I am excited on a subject which-which-lies so near my heart;-if you could but know what I felt when I heard that you were about to waste the rich treasure of your affections upon that cold-hearted creature. Forgive me I know not what I say. Heavens ! you look agitated," (the doctor was trying to repress a smile,) "have I betrayed my long-hidden feelings? Oh, forgive me forget what I have said-alas! I am fearfully bewildered!"

All this was said with the prettiest air of excitement in the world; the upturning of her soft and tearful eye -the clasping of her small hands-the heaving of her

agitated bosom-even the slight dishevelment of her long tresses, all added grace and beauty to the picture, for Mrs. Merton knew just at what point to stop, and never allowed elegant sensibility to run into the excess of vulgar emotion. Tears are apt to make the nose red, and therefore Mrs. Merton's weeping was confined to a gentle suffusion of the large blue eye, while her gentle sighs never degenerated in plebeian sobs. Burying her face in her cambric handkerchief, she appeared quite overcome with her feelings.

66

Do not suffer yourself to be thus agitated, my dear madam," said the doctor gravely, while a mischievous smile lurked on his lips, "be assured I shall not misinterpret the feelings which lead you to be so much interested in my welfare. I came this morning with the intention of making a communication to you on the subject, which will set all idle reports at rest for ever."

Mrs. Merton started and looked timidly in his face. "He is going to offer himself," thought she, as she suffered her hand to fall accidentally upon his arm.

The doctor rose, and taking the lady's unresisting hand, said "You have not only my authority, dear madam, for contradicting the report of my being engaged, but I will also give you a full and sufficient reason for its falsity-I was, last evening, actually mar ried to the lady in question. Miss Leslie is now Mrs. Selwyn, and as the carriage which is now to bear us to Woodlands is now waiting my return, allow me to offer you my adieus."

THE FIRST AND SECOND WIFE;

OR, THE CONFESSIONS OF A DISCONTENTED MAN.

"Few-none find what they love or could have loved,

Though accident, blind contact, and the strong

Necessity of loving, have removed

Antipathies-but to recur, ere long,

Envenomed with irrevocable wrong."

CHILDE HAROLD.

I BELONG to that unfortunate race of mortals, who, not satisfied with the evils which must naturally fall to their lot in the ordinary course of events, seek out new sources of discomfort, and, as it were, manufacture disappointments for themselves. In other words, I am the victim of discontent. There are some temperaments which seem fitted only for unhappiness, and from the fairest flowers of earth, derive a poison with which to feed their morbid fancy: such was mine. Heir to a princely fortune, gifted by nature with a mind capable of availing itself of all the advantages which education could afford, and distinguished by extreme personal beauty, (I may say this without vanity now,) it would seem as if all the materials of happiness were within my reach; but there was wormwood enough in my own spirit, to embitter all these springs of enjoyment. My unhappy temper showed itself very early. Even from my boyhood, I can recollect how invariably I loathed

the fulfilment of my own desires. The costly and longwished for toy, the rare book, the favorite pony, all were alike objects of disgust when once in my possession. Such a disposition can rarely be amended, and yet I think mine might have been controlled, had my kind parents been able to discover the defect in my character; but, blinded by their affection, they fostered by indulgence, the temper which should have been subdued by discipline.

As I grew to man's estate, this unhappy trait in my character became still more painfully predominant. The pleasures from which I turned in disgust, seemed to me invaluable when I witnessed their enjoyment by another, and, as I was compelled to observe some consistency in my dealings with men, I suffered more than could be imagined by one who has never known the miseries of discontent. Conscious of my personal attractions, and, priding myself upon the polished elegance of my manners, I eagerly sought the society of women. But here my familiar demon haunted me. Women who, at first sight, appeared to me objects of idolatry, lost all their attractions as soon as my vanity led me to believe that I was not an object of indifference to them, and thus, while abhorring the assassin-like spirit of the male-coquette, I was in truth acting the same part. But my day of punishment arrived.

My early years were wasted in pursuits which wearied me, because generally successful; and, though my heart longed for an object on which to bestow its affections, I was rapidly approaching my twentieth year without having met with a woman whom I could love, when I became acquainted with Ellen Trevor and