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she could undertake to do, for it was as easy to make the statue speak as move.

Paulina then commanded that music should sound -when instantly the solemn peal of the organ reverberated through the arched roof, while all present stood in breathless anxiety to know where this awful ceremony would end! Presently the statue began to move from its recumbent posture, and the eye before fixed on vacancy rested on Leontes. With a slow and majestic step she descended from the lofty pedestal, and presented her hand to Leontes; he grasped it eagerly it was warm, and glowing! He embraced the beauteous form-it returned the pressure !—and Leontes started back in terror and amazement !

"Speak, dearest lady-(said the faithful Paulina) -convince them that you live! and you, sweet maid, kneel and pray your mother's blessing!-Look, dear madam! best Hermione, look; behold our Perdita is found."

Perdita rushed to her mother's feet, and grasping her hand, devoured it with kisses. Hermione gazed on her with delight, and folding her to her enraptured heart, entreated to know how she had been preserved -where lived-and how restored to her father's court; but Paulina checked her eager inquiries, lest she should agitate her mind too powerfully for so much joy after so much sorrow was a trial of strength both mental and bodily. Again the full swelling organ sounded; but now it sounded notes of joy and triumph, accompanied by the loud peal of human voices which were raised to heaven in gratitude for this miraculous preservation.

Hermione, between her husband and daughter, was conducted to the court amid the acclamations of the multitudes who, having heard the joyful tidings, were flocking from every quarter of the city to greet their new found Queen and Princess.

When Paulina had announced to Leontes the death of Hermione, she had no idea that she was asserting

a falsehood. The semblance of death was so strong that all who saw gave credence to it. Paulina never left her mistress night or day, and it was during her midnight watch that a faint sigh met her ear. She was alarmed, but stifling her terrors, she exerted her utmost resolution, supposing the sainted spirit of her departed mistress was hovering near, to give some dear commission to her charge. She advanced near the coffin; another and a deeper sigh was issued; she put her hand upon the cheek, and on the lips, where some faint touch of warmth was apparent. Paulina, without calling any one to her assistance, summoned all her energy and presence of mind and, by various medicinal applications, succeeded in bringing back the vital warmth of existence.

When Hermione was sufficiently recovered to enter into conversation, it was agreed between them that till the oracle was fulfilled, and her lost child restored, she should be considered as dead. By the contrivance of Paulina, a fictitious funeral took place, while, in the dead of night, she conveyed the Queen to her own house, where in secret she had ever since resided, till this blissful hour, which had restored her at once to her husband and her child-her friends, her subjects, and her throne.

Sweet hope had lured her on from day to day,
Religious hope, and confidence in heaven.
Rewarded now with blessings numberless-
Returning spring on golden autumn grafted!
Her future years were all made up of peace;
And death came not to chill the joyous scene,
Till length of days had seasoned his approach
With heedful expectations ;-not repelled
With lamentations loud and impious,
But as a messenger of heaven received,
Bearing the mandate of Omnipotence:
Like a full ear of corn she fell, beneath
The stroke of fate,-replete in excellence,
Leaving behind the mem'ry of her worth,
To be recorded in the living tomb

Of faithful hearts :-Peace to thee, virtuous Queen.

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-Ah! who can judge the full extent

Of woman's power? Her beauty's power is much;
Her virtue's power much more; but oh! her power
Of art!! exceeds all bounds descriptive.

THE family of the worthy Mr. Thorowgood, a wealthy merchant, residing in the city of London, were thrown into anxiety and confusion, by the unexpected absence of George Barnwell, (at that time one of its inmates; an interesting youth, sincerely beloved by every branch of this respected family,) who had left home the evening before, without giving any intimation where he was going; and the night had passed without his return. Whether this innovation upon the rules of the establishment proceeded from accident or design, it was impossible to tell; but as the propriety of his conduct, the purity of his morals, and his strict conformity to every regulation of his master's house, had been hitherto undisputed, apprehensions were entertained for his safety. One circumstance, however, excited painful ideas: Barnwell had never before left home without informing his friend, Walter Trueman, of his business; and mostly indeed they went out together.

These two young men were what strictly might be termed true friends. They were nearly of the same age; and not only was there a similarity in their pursuits, but a strong resemblance in disposition and principles. Their sentiments and intentions had hitherto been mutually imparted; and Trueman trembled, he knew not why, at this first instance of his friend's want of confidence. Mr. Thorowgood questioned him as to the cause of Barnwell's absence, when he was painfully compelled to plead ignorance; yet without hinting even a cause of suspicion.

The midnight hour had struck ere Mr. Thorowgood, and some of his elder servants retired to rest; but his anxious daughter, the gentle Maria, Trueman, and the younger servants, sat up all night. Every moment offered hopes of his arrival, but their hopes and anxieties were vain: Barnwell returned not till late the following morning! Trueman was the first who saw him; and eagerly advancing towards him, he seized his hand: "Ah! my dear Barnwell (he exclaimed)-how I rejoice at your return. What unhappy mischance has kept you from us? Oh! what a night of anxiety we have passed, trembling lest any accident had occurred-you cannot conceive how tenderly you are beloved-but why do you turn from me, Barnwell? What ails you? Speak, tell me what has happened ?"

"Do not question me, Trueman, I am unhappy! but you cannot aid, you cannot serve me! !"

66 Why cannot I serve you, Barnwell? What can have happened in the course of a few hours to make you desperate, or to render friendship ineffectual : Speak to me, tell me, do you doubt my faith? Look on me; what have I done, that you should turn away from me; or rather what have you done, that you cannot look upon your friend ?"

Barnwell shuddered! "Leave me, Trueman— (said he angrily)-Leave me! what right have you

to pry into my sorrows? You presume upon our friendship."

"Presume! Barnwell, presume! Could I have expected to hear such an expression from you? Well, well, I have done !—and yet"

Barnwell's heart smote him for his cruelty to his friend; he turned towards him and offered his hand. Trueman started at observing him more closely; his pallid cheek, where the traces of tears were apparent -his sunken eye-his quivering lip-his dishevelled hair, and the disordered expression of his countenance, all-all implied some heavy calamity. Trueman besought his confidence, and conjured him by all their past friendship to impart the ill which had occurred; but Barnwell repulsed him with anger, accusing him, with asperity, of impertinent interference and curiosity, until Trueman's patience being exhausted, he was on the point of retiring; but pity and affection led him back, convinced this was no light affliction, but that something dreadful had happened, ere so total a revolution could have taken place. He felt it was the duty of friendship to bear with the infirmity of an unhappy youth bending beneath some heavy sorrow: to all Barnwell's impetuosity, therefore, he replied with patient forbearance; but could not lure him on to any degree of confidence in regard to the event which had caused such an alteration in a man who had been accustomed to consider confidential friendship as the very climax of human felicity. He clung round him-"Forgive me, dear Barnwell; I cannot leave you till you impart to me the cause of your sorrow. Gracious heaven, what a change!" Here Trueman paused, and then adding "Do you remember these lines? it is but three days ago since you wrote them! Is the blessing of friendship at an end! are its fruits decayed? is Trueman or is Barnwell altered ?"-he presented a paper which Barnwell tremblingly re

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