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Vou. L—No. LL.
BUsSTON, SATURDAY,
MARCI -17,. 1860.
Paice Hour Cents.
Written for the Literary Companion.
SPRING IS COMING.
BY JOSEPH W. NYE.
Gontle Spring again is coming,
Soon in beauty she'll appear,
Birds with singing, bees with humming,
* Soon will please the list’ning ear.
O’er the hills the south wind blowing,
Whispers the advance of Spring;
‘Winter soon will cease his snowing,
And his homeward flight will wing,
To the frozen arctic regions,
Where eternally he reigns,
Where he marshals his legions,
On those barren, icy plains!
Spring is coming with a blessing
For us all, let us rejoice!
Welcome her with fond caressing,
Give her praise with heart and yoice!
Spring is coming, pleasures bringing
For the younfy and for the old,
O’er the brown, bare pastures flinging
Gems of red and white and gold
Then we'll welcome her with gladness,
When stern Winter's reign is o'er,
And inay sorrow, grief and sadness
. Never fill our bosoms more!
Written for the Literary Companion.
ROBIN HOOD ;*_
OR, THE
OUTLAW OF SHERWOOD FOREST!
BY MRS. C. F. GERRY.
[conrinvep.]
CHAPTER XV.
In the bower-room of her luxurious city-home
sat Lady Una. . It was fitted up with the same
un’qic splendor which had marked her costume
on the previous evening, and seomed a fit abode
for those maidens, who—according to the clas-
sic mythe—guarded the vestal fires. The walls
were draped ‘with tapestry, representing forest-
scenes, and overhead some skilful artisan had
arranged a lily, sculptured of purest marble, and
with leaves of verd antique, while the stamens of
gold supported tiny golden lamps. The floor
was covered with a foot-cloth, “ soft and green
as wood-moss,” and starred with flowers. . The
cushions were of emeraid velvet, embroidered
with white lilies, and clouds of lace floated from
the lily cornice-work above the windows. The
vases were lily-shaped, the mirrors set in a frame
of silver lilies, and here and there a graceful
statue stood like a spell-bound wood-nymph, or
some naiad, that had risen like Cytherea, from
the spray of a tiny fonatain in the centre of. the
room. Beside this fountain reclined Una on the
morning after the festival; her negliyee of India
maslin was as becoming as her gala-dress, and
as Edward Sidney entered, he thought be had
never seen anything fairer or purer than she
scemed. She sprang to meet him, and talked to
him with the abandon of a child; and while
they were recalling the scenes of the olden time,
the earl and countess were scheming to bring
about a marriage between them. - At length a
door softly opened, and Marion came in, ar-
rayed for an equestrian excursion.
“Why, Uua,” she exclaimed ; “you are so
overjoyed at secing Edward, that you have for-
gotten our usual ride in the park. The horses
are waiting, and perhaps Edward will join us.”
“ “eo yes, with pleasure,” said Sidney.
“Entered arcorting to Act of Congress, in the
180, by F. Gusasox, in the Clerk's Oilice of the District
Court of Massac
Una ran away to change her costume, and
soon afterward the party were dashing off.
An hour later, as they were riding slowly along
a broad avenue of St. James Park, they met
Lady Anne, attended by Hubert and the Duke
of Buckingham. Very beautiful looked Una,
mounted on the snow-white palfcey, which she
used to ride in merry Sherwood, and arrayed in
valli,
Marchioness of Rochford. Her eye glittered,
her cheek flushed, a3 she marked Anne’s pale
face, and reining in her spirited palfrey with the
skill of a Di Vernon, she said:
“Are you ill, Lady Anne!”
“Why do you ask?” said Anne.
“ Because you are so pale, and your eyes are
so heavy !””
JAVANESE COUNTRY PEOPLE.—See Page 153.
askirt and habit of bluo velvet, profusely trim-
med with ermine, and with a jaunty cap, from
which flaunted a single heron’s plume.
Anne felt a pang like those that had tortured
her the night before, when she saw that Edward
Sidney’s head was inclined toward her, and he
too much absorbed in his fair companion to no-
tice her, till Una said quickly—
“There—there is Lady Anne!” --
Then he started, and casting a keen glance at
Anne, replied wit apparent carelessness :
“O, yes, and ILubert, too, and his graco, the
Duke of Buckingham!” and bowing to the
three, they passed on.
“What did I tell you, Hubert?” said Anno
to her cousin, speaking with that quick, sharp
articulation which betokens suppressed anguish.
“T said that Edward Sidney had usurped your
place in Una’s heart. Why, she scarcely nod-
ded to you!”
“T know it,” replied the young man, “but
her color deepened, her eyes kindled ; they spoke
to me more than the most eloquent words 1” .
Anne’s lip curled with a scor: ful smile, but
in her secret heart she thought she would have
given worlds if she could exchange her harrow-
ing doubts for the sweet confidence of her girl-
kood—or Hubert’s frith in Una.
They had proceeded but a short distance, when
a rich and mellow. voice exclaimed, “Good
morning!” and looking up, they saw Violante,
“No, no; last night’s dissipation brought on
the headache, that is all.”
There was a moment's silence, and then Vio-
lante continued :
“We have just met the Earl and Countess of
Huntingdon, Lady Una and Lord Edward Sid-
ney.”
“And so have we,” was the laconic answer.
“ow lover-like he seemed!” resumed the
marchioness ; “but out upon him! that yourg
girl is not a fitting bride forhim! Prithee, Lady
Anne, why do you not enter the lists against
her?
What terrible torture these words inflicted on
poor Anne! Her color came and went, her
brain whirled, and strive as she would, she could
not summon strength to speak.
“Lady Anne is otherwise provided for,” said
the duke, bending to his sadJle-bow and clasp-
ing the gauntleted hand with which Anne had
grasped it, to prevent herself from falling.
Violante laughed, and went on:
“Well, then there will be so much more
chance for me, for I have resolved to set a snare
for the brave crusader!” and bowing and smil-
ing, she rode away,
Weeks passed, and Lady Anne and Lord Ed-
ward often met, but met in coldness, in missp-
prehension, in distrust. The pride of both had
been aroused, and both resolved to conceal their
disappointment, their sorrow. Lester’s wife had
promised to try and ascertain the cause of Anne’s
conduct, but though frank in other respects, she
would reveal nothing satisfactory on this topic.
“She is not the tender, confiding Anne, whom
I loved,” said Sidney, as he watched her one
night at a court-ball; “she is beautiful—superb-
ly beautiful—but she has grown cold as an ice-
berg. I must dethrone the idol I have wor-
shipped.”
Then he thought of Una, with her purity, her
trust, her ethereal loveliness, but felt no love for
her, save the brotherly affection with which he
had always regarded her, and then, then there
rose before him the image of a magnificent crea-
ture, with a coronet of midnight hair encircling
her graceful head, a pair of large, dark, melting
eyes, a cheek blooming like a Tuscan rose, and
lips bright and dewy as wet coral—Violante—
the dazzling marcbioness, at whose feet half the
cavaliers in the realm were sighing. Iedanced
with her; be rode at her bridie-rein; he rowed
her over the Thames in a barge fit for Cleopatra ;
but his heart never thrilled to her voice as it had
to Anne’s; her glance, her smile never made
his pulse found as Anne Montfort’s had—as
they did now sometimes, in spite of his struggle
to forget. Ilis uncle began to grow alarmed at
his attentions to the marchioness, and one day
he ca'led him into his own room, and said
gravely : H
“My hoy, are you going to marry Vis iotanto,
the enchantress of the court ?”
“Marry her! Nay, nay, unclo mine! I ad-
mire her; I havea friendly regard for her, but
nothing more, I do assure you.”
“I am glad of it,” replied the earl; “but
have you not given her reason to hope ?”
“No; on the contrary, I have told her all my
love for Lady Anne, my gricf at her ficklencss,
and she has tried to soothe and cheer me as a
sister might.”
“A sister!” aneercd his uncle. “ Ah, Ed-
ward, she once had something more than a sis-
te-ly interest in you!” and he proceeded to tell
his nephew how madly the girl had loved him in
the forest—how Will S athclock had shot at him
in a fit of jealousy, and with what tenderness
Violante had watched over him in his subse-
quent illness, in the hope of winning him.
Sidney listened in the utmost astonishment,
and declared he should henceforth be more
guarded in his attentions to her; and then the
earl went on to divulge his plan with regard to
a union between his nephew and his dauzhter.
“Una!” exclaimed the young man, springing
to his feet. “She is beautiful as a dream.
reverence her character; I love her as well as if
she hai been my own sister, but her fresh young
heart should not be mated with my desolate one.
Uncle, she Joves anocher—a person every way
worthy of her—a person who has already lav-
ished on her the first passion of his soul. - Let
me plead for them !”
“Silence!” ejaculated the earl, “silence!
No child of mine shall mate with a Wihmcer.
I have sworn eternal hatred to the whole race!’
While these events were transpiring within,
Una stood in the dense shadow, cast over the
narrow lawn by a cluster of white thorn-trecs,
Suddenly a step, a light step, sounded on the
pavement; then a voice murmured;
“Una, are you there?”
“She moved forward a few paces, and a young
man, garbed with extreme richness, after the
fashion of the times, bounded to her side,
“Una, my wood-nymph,” he began, in alow
and tremulous tone, “in the note Imanaged to
convey to you last evening, I bade you come
here to-night, if you loved me. You do love