"Ough! ay, ay!" exclaimed Mrs. Browne, "God forgive me, I am a poor sinful thing; quite full of sin; I must give up the prayers for to-night, I can't steady my heart to them, good nor bad; there! finish your work and we'll go to bed, jewel...it is, as you say, a beautiful night, thanks be to God for his mercies! and I ought to have more faith." Long did they both remain awake during that calm moonlight; the fisherman's wife muttering prayers and lears, and raising her eyes to the little window which opened at the foot of her bed, and from which, as she lay, she could catch a view of the distant sea...at last she tell off into a deep, deep sleep. But Statia, though free from all anxiety as to the fate of the absent, could not close her eyes---poor girl! her young imagination had passed a gult of years, and she was thinking, that perhaps she might be to the young fisher what Kate was to the old; and she thought how good he was and how handsome; and how happy she should be to mend his nets, and watch the return of his boat from the highest cliff that "toppled o'er the deep." The grey morning was stealing on the night, yet still Kate slept and still Statia Byrne continued with her eyes fixed on the window, creating---not castles but---nets, and boats, and cottages in the air; when, suddenly, before the window stood Benjamin Browne...she had not seen his shadow pass---she had heard no step---no voice--no sound; nor did she see a figure, but there was his face almost pressed to the glass---his long uncurled hair hung down either cheek...and his eyes were fixed on her with a cold, unmoving, rayless gaze -she endeavoured to sit up---she felt suddenly paralyzed-she could not move...she tried to speak, to call Mrs. Browne who still slept heavily, heavier than before--she could make no sound---still her lover gazed -gazed on. And what occurred to her (tor she afterwards declared, she never for a moment, was deprived of consciousness) as most strange was, that though the room within was dark, and his head obscured the window, still she could see his features (to use her own expressive phrase) "Clear like wax;" while as he gazed, their beautiful form assumed the long, pale hue of death---by a sudden effort she closed her eyes, but only for a brief, brief moment. When she re-opened them, he was gone...and she only looked upon the grey mingling of sea and sky; trembling and terroraricken she at last succeeded in awakening her companion. Mrs. Browne heard her story with apparent calmness, and putting her lips close to the ear of the minting girl, whispered..." HE IS DEAD!" It was long, long before Statia recovered from her woon, for when she did the morning sun was shining on her face...and she was alone, quite alone in the fisherman's cottage; at first, she thought she had fearFully dreamed but the realities around her recalled her to herself; she flew to the same cliff where, the evening before, unconscious of the strong affection which bound her almost childish heart to her young lover, she had watched his departure; and looking down on the beach, her painful vision was truly realized... Der. mot Browne was leading his wife from a group of persons who were bearing the corpse of the young fisherman to the shore; in the distance could be seen the keel of the doomed boat floating upwards, while crowds of sea-birds overhead, screamed the youth's funeral dirge! It might be about two months after this occurrence -which plunged the warm-hearted people of the neighbouring villages into deep sorrow...that Kate Browne visited the cottage of Statia Browne; it was the first time the bereaved mother had entered any cottage, save her own, since "her trouble." As soon as Statia saw her, she flung herself upon her neck and sobbed as if her heart would break; the fisherman's wite held her trom her, and parting her hair from off her brow, said, "Sorrow has worked with you, and left his mark upon your face, avourneen; and though my darlint, you did not drame of him that's gone last Holy-eye, you've dreamed of him often since." The poor girl wept still more bitterly. "You must have been very dear, very dear entirely to him," continued Kate Browne, "for his blessed spirit found it harder quitting you than his own mother, who nursed him a baby at her breast; but whisht, darlint, don't I love you better for that now? Sure every thing-let alone every one that he regardedthat his regard only rested on, is more to me than silver or goold, or the wealth of the whole world! Didn't the bright eyes of his spirit look from the heavens on you my jewel? And what I'm come here for Mistress Byrne, ma'am, is, that as you have so many childre, (and God keep them to you!) maybe you'd spare Statia to bind my heart from breaking, and let her bide entirely with us---we have prosperity enough, for when the Lord takes one thing away, why he gives another.. blessed be his holy name! And sure, since the boy's gone, nothing can equal Dermot's industry and carefulness, stopping every hole in every fisher. man's boat-when he's ashore the hammer and nails is never out of his hand. Let her be to me as my own child, Mistress Byrne, and you'll have a consolation that will never lave you, no! not on your death-bed. Sure you'll see herevery day the sun rises---let her bide with me, for I am very desolate !" The mother, as she looked around upon seven rosy, healthy children, felt, that indeed her neighbour was desola'e, and in a voice hoarse with emotion, she said, "Statia may go, and take our blessing with her if she likes!" Many little voices wept aloud in that cottage, al. though they knew they should see their sister daily; but the maiden was firm in her resolve, and that night greeted, as a father, the father of him whom her young heart had loved with an entireness of affection which the heart can know but once. Statia is now long past the age of girlhood, and it is pleasant to see how perfectly her simple life is an illus. tration of the pathetic exclamation of the Jewish dam. sel "Thy people, shall be my people, and thy God my God!" She manages admirably between her "two mo. thers," as she calls them, so that the one may not be jealous of the other: but though she has had many suitors for her hand, she has never forgotten-the drowned fisherman! The Barrel-Organ Nuisance. We overheard the following conversation a few days ago between two professors of the barrel organ: "I say, Bill, ow is it as you always gets so much more nor me, ven your organ isn't worth so much as mine by five shillin' and you plays nothing but old Robin Gray, and the Duke of York's March, and God save the King, and the Undred-and-FourthPsalm, and sich like, vile I flares up with the Unters'. Chorus, and Ome sweet Ome, and Bonnets o'Blue, and lots o' good 'uns?" "Vy, I'll tell you 'ow' it be; you see ven I goes to ire a horgan, 1 gets von as bad out o' chune as I can, vile you does nothing but luk hout for a good un. So nobody takes no notice on you; but ven I begins to flare up with mine, the gemmen hopens the vindy, and chucks me sixpence to go away. PROVERBS IN POLITE ENGLISH. To that which the retina does not receive, the pericardium remains insensible. There are occasions on whichr it is difficult to get through a sentence, either, in writing or conversation, ngo but ut by by the aid of that old-fashioned vulgarity, a proverb. The most profound thinker will be sometimes at a loss for an expression exactly adapted for the convey. ance of an obstinate idea; the most accomplished and elegant writer will occasionally find the finest and choicest phraseology unsuited to his purpose. Let them paint an inch thick, to a plain bare proverb they must come. We can even imagine Coleridge coming to a pause in his full, deep, conversational chaunted in a diurnal revolution of the globe. suddenly down-wheeling, like a falcon, from the realm of imagination wherein he had traced the infinite forms of loveliness, and embodied in discourse all that is most exquisite in ideal beauty-and, descending plump upon a commonplace maxim, and by acknow. ledging that "beauty" after all is but 'skin deep.' We can imagine Mr. Bulwer, whose pen is as a Pros. pero's wand, which Pucks and Ariels are proud to obey, discovering in a masterly essay upon human character and the influence of education and example, the inaptitude of loftier language than that in which his closing admission might be expressed that 'what is bred in the bone will never come out of the flesh.' 'Why should the smaller domestic utensils accuse the larger of nigritude. A greater volume of aqueous fluid passes the machine for pulverizing wheat than its proprietor is aware of. Do not adopt a vehicular conveyance till you can afford anti-attrition. 'The taciturn temale of the porcine genus imbibes the richest nutriment. 'The capital of the Papal states was not constract 'Experienced warblers are rarely made prisoners by the husks of grain. An abrupt inclination of the head is equivalent to a sudden closing of the eye, to a racer laboring under a cataract. 'One proper deviation from the straight line merits a similar event. 'By the same process that you heat kneaded dotıglı, you amalgamate malt and hops. 'By the same method in which you formed your couch, so you may recline on it. 'A vacant tenement is superior to a vicious inhabitant. 'It is a sage infant who is intimately acquainted with his own paternal relative. The Internal Being is not so sable as limners have Inferior falcons will not extract the visual organs of their kind. 'He who treats the misfortunes of others as themes for risibility, may have that cachinnation transferred to the opposite side of his facial muscles. But it must be owned that the homeliness and bad taste of many of these venerable conveniences preclude them very often from polite use. They are rough diamonds, and require polishing before they can be set represented him. with effect in a shining composition. We have just No ablution will convert an African into an Albi. accidentally discovered, that this very desirable polish no. has been communicated to many of the choicest of our proverbs, by the fair hand of the author of 'Brother Tragedians.' Miss Isabel Hill is the lapidary of our proverbial literature. In a stray number of a departed periodical, we recently met with a string of proverbs translated into polite language, and they are so admirably rendered, with so much originality and humour, that we eagerly extract some specimens of them, in the conviction that they are still 'as good as new': for they cannot have been seen by many eyes in the obscurity of their original publication. Miss Hill says; -'I differ from the million as to vulgarity of using old sayings: some of them are truly expressive and significant; it is only to the homeliness of their style that I object. My refined friend Leonine has indifferently reformed this.' The following are among the specimens of Leonine's success in transmuting lead into gold. 'Coined metal impels the feminine horse. departed individuals. Do not exclaim vociferously till you have passed beyond the forest. No longer perform on the flageolet, no longer gal. lopade. Loveliness lies not beneath the superficies of the exterior cuticle. 'Let every man pursue the bent of his own genius, as the elderly matron observed while saluting her vaccine favorite. An equestrian mendicant will journey towards the realms of his Satanic Majesty. 'Too great a number of culinary assistants inay impair the flavour of the consumтее. 'An obese affliction is preferable to an emaciated Elongated articles of table equipage are required by those who take petit soupers with the author of evil. In the absence of the miniature tiger, the muscupular race will become festive. 'Do not calculate the number of your juvenile poul. try before the process of incubation be completed. It is more pleasing to arrive at the termination of a banquet, than at the commencement of a journey.' But Miss Hill's ingenious friend Leonine deals so me. times" more cunningly with us, and translates the most ill-favoured proverb into exceedir.gly telicious puzzles:-thus That indispensible to gastronomy on which the smoke acts, will, if excellent, make an equally perfect quarter of a pint. Give some men a small island, and they will take a liquid letter. • Wherever there is a testament there is a path. The artful person shall be captivated in his own Geneva. 'One fleecy animal cutaneously infected, will spread contagion through the coarser kind of m.li-puff." Are not all these vulgarities rendered into amenities of the most delicate and insinuating character? What a Reform of the Proverbs is here effected! It is as though a Robin Roughhead should be changed by the touch of a subtle magician into a Lord Foppington. The fair Leonine has rendered us a lasting service. The most fastidious of our readers, who might not like to remark that 'Rome was not built in a day,' can henceforth feel no hesitation in observing, that The capital of the Papal states was not constructed in a diurnal revolution of the globe;' nor can the most refined, though naturally shrinking from the indelicacy of the original, it is ill waiting for dead men's shoes," detect the least tincture of coarseness in allusion to the pain of being in attendance for the pumps of departed individuals.' [From the Token for 1836.] CONSTANCE ALLERTON, OR, THE MOURNING SUITS. A Story of Domestic Life-By Miss Leslie. But I have that within which passeth show. --Shakespeare. Mr. Allerton, a merchant of Philadelphia, had for some years been doing business to considerable advantage, when a sudden check was put to his prosperity by the unexpected failure of a house, for which he had endorsed to a very large amount. There was no alternative but to urrender every thing to his creditors; and this he did literally and conscientiously. He brought down his mind to his circumstances; and as, at that juncture, the precar100s state of the times did not authorise any hope of success if he recommenced business (as he might have done) upon borrowed capital, and gladly availed himself of a vacant clerkship in one of the principal banks of the city. His salary, however, would have been scarcely adequate to the support of his family had he not added something to his little stipend, by employing his leisure hours in keeping the books of a merchant. He removed with his wife and children to a small house in a remote part of the city; and they would, with all his exertions, have been obliged to live in the constant exercise of the most painful economy, had it not been for the aid they derived from his sister Constance Allerton. Since the death of her parents, this young lady had resided at New Bedford with her maternal aunt. Mrs. Ilford, a quakeress, who left her a legacy of ten thousand dollars. After the demise of her aunt, Miss Allerton took lodgings at a private house in New Bedford: but on hearing of her brother's misfortunes, she wrote to know if it would be agreeable to him and to his family, for her to remove to Philadelphia, and to live with them-supposing that the sim she would pay for her accommodations, night, in their present difficulties, prove a welcome addition to their income. This proposal was joyfully acceded to, as Constance was much beloved by every member of her brother's family, and had kept up a continual interest with them by frequent letters, and by an annual visit of a few weeks to Philadelphia At this period Constance Allerton had just completed her twenty-third year. She had a beautiful face, a fine and gracefal figure, and a highly cultivated mind. With warm feelings and deep sensibility, she possessed much energy of character-a qualification which, when called forth by circumstances, is often found to be as useful in woman as in a man. Affectionate, generous, and totally devoid of all selfish considerations, Constance had nothing somuch at heart as the comfort and happiness of her brother's family; and to become an inmate of their house was as gratifying to her as it was to them. She furnished her own apartment, and shared it with little Louisa, the youngest of her three nieces, a lovely child about ten years old. She insisted on paying the quarter bills of her nephew Frederick Allerton, and volunteered to complete the education of his sisters, who were delighted to receive their daily lessons from an instructress so kind, so sensible, and so competent. Exclusive of these arrangements, she bestowed on them many little presents, which were always well-timed and judiciously selected; though, to enable her to purchase these gifts, she was obliged, with her limited income of six hundred dollars, to deny herself many gratifications, and indeed conveniences, to winch she had hitherto been accustomed, and the want of which she now passed over with a cheerfulness and delicacy, that was duly appreciated by the objects of her kmdness. In this manner the family had been living about a twelvemonth, when Mr. Allerton was suddenly attacked by a violent and dangerous illness, which was soon ac companied by delirium; and in a few days it brought him to the brink of the grave. His disease baffled the skill of an excellent physician; and the unremitting cares of his wife and sister could only effect a slight alleviation of his sufferings. He expired on the fifth day, without recovering his senses, and totally unconscious of the presence of the heart-struck mourners, that were weeping round his bed. When Mr. Allerton's last breath had departed, his wife was conveyed from the room in a fainting fit. Constance endeavored to repress her own feelings, till she had rendered the necessary assistance to Mrs. Allerton, and till she had somewhat calmed the agony of the children.She then retired to her own apartment, and gave a vent to a burst of grief, such as can only be felt by those in whose minds and hearts there is a union of sense and sensibility. With the weak and frivolous, sorrow is rarely either acute or lasting. The immortal soul of Mr. Allerton had departed from its earthly tenement, and it was now necessary to think of the painful details that belonged to the disposal of his inanimate corpse. As soon as Constance could command sufficient courage to allow her mind to dwell on this subject, she went down to send a servant for Mr. Denman (an old friend of the family,) whom she knew Mrs. Allerton would wish to take charge of the funeral. At the foot of the stairs she met the physician, who, by her pale cheeks, and by the tears that streamed from her eyes at sight of him, saw that all was over. He pressed her hand in sympathy; and perceiving that she was urable to answet his questions, he bowed and left the house. In a short time Mr. Denman arrived; and Mrs. Allerton declaring herself incompetent to the task, Constance saw the gentleman, and requested him to make every necessary arrangement for a plain and respectable funeral. At such times, how every little circumstance seems to add a new pang to the agonized feelings of the bereaved family. The closing of the window-shutters, the arrival of the woman whose gloomy business it is to prepare the corpse for intermeat, the undertaker coming to take measure for the coffin, the removal of the bedding on which the deceased has expired, the gliding step, the half-whispered directions-all these sad indications that death is in the house, fail not, however quietly and carefully managed, to reach the ears and hearts of the afflicted relatives, assisted by the intuitive knowledge of what is so well understood to be passing at these melancholy moments. In the evening, after Louisa had cried herself to sleep, Constance repaired to the apartment of her sister-in-law, whom about an hour before she had left exhaused and passive. Mrs. Allerton was extended on the bed, pale and silent; her daughters Isabella and Helen were in tears beside her; and Frederick had retired to his room. In the fauteuil, near the head of the bed, sat Mrs. Bla-den, who, in the days of their prosperity, had been the next door neighbor of the Allerton family, and who still continued to favor them with frequent visits. She was one of those busy people, who seem almost to verify the justly censured maxims of Rochefaucault, that in the misfortunes of our best friends there is always something which is pleasing to us. True it was, that Mrs. Bladen being a woman of great leisure, and of a disposition extremely officious, devoted most of her time and attention to the concerns of othersand any circumstances that prevented her associates from acting immediately for themselves, of course threw open a wider field for her interference. "And now, my dear friends," said Mrs. Bladen, squeezing Mrs. Allerton's hand, and looking at Constance, who seated herself in an opposite chair, as the funeral is to take place on Thursday, you know there is no time to be lost. What have you fixed on respecting your mourning? I will cheerfully attend to it for you, and bespeak every thing necessary." At the words "funeral" and "mourning," tears gushed again from the eyes of the distressed family; and neither Mrs. Allerton, nor Constance could command themselves sufficiently to reply. "Come, my dear creatures." continued Mrs. Bladen, you must really make an effort to compose yourselves." "Just try to be calm for a few minutes, till we have setled this business. Tell me what I shall order for you.However, there is but one rule on these occasions-crape and bombazine, and every thing of the best. Nothing, you know, is more disreputable than mean mourning." "I fear then," replied Mrs. Allerton," that our mourning attire must be mean enough. The situation in which we are left, will not allow us to go to any unnecessary expense in that, or in any thing else. We had but little to live upon-we could lay by nothing. We have nothing before-hand: we did not-we could not apprehend that this dreadful event was so near. And you know that his salary that Mr. Allerton's salary, of course, expires with him." "So I suppose, my dear friend," answered Mrs. Bladen; "but you know you must have mourning-and as the funeral takes place so soon, there will be little enough time to order it, and have it made." "We will borrow dresses to wear at the, to wear on Thursday," said Mrs. Allerton. 64 "And of whom will you borrow?" "I do not know. I have not yet thought." "The Liscom family are in black," observed Isabella; no doubt they would lend us dresses." "Oh! none of their things will fit you at all," exclaimed Mrs. Bladen. "None of the Liscoms have the least resemblance to any of you, either in height or figure. You would look perfectly ridiculous in their things." "Then there are Mrs. Patterson and her daughters," said Helen. "The Pattersons," replied Mrs. Bladen, "are just going to leave off black; and nothing that they have looks either new or fresh. You know how soon black becoines rusty. You certainly would feel very much mortified, if you had to make a shabby appearance at Mr. Allerton's funeral. Besides, nobody now wears borrowed mourning -it can always be detected in a moment. No with a little exertion--and I repeat that I am willing to do all in my power-there is time enough to provide the whole family with genteel and proper mourning suits. And so you must get them at last, it is certainly much better to have them at first, so as to appear handsomely at the funeral" "Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Allerton, sighing." at such a time, what consequence can we possibly attach to our external appearance? How can we for a moment think of it?" "To be sure, my dear friend," said Mis. Bladen kissing her, "you have had a very severe loss--very severe indeed. It is really quite irreparable: and I can sincerely sympathize in your feelings. Certainly every body ought to feel on these occasions; but you know it is impossible to devote every moment between this and the funeral to tears and sobs. One cannot be crying all the time-nobody ever does. And, as to the mourning, that is, of course, indispensable, and a thing that must be." Mrs. Allerton wept bitterly. "Indeed! indeed!" said she, "I cannot discuss it now." "And if it be not settled to night," resumed Mrs. Bladen, "there will be hardly time to-morrow to talk it over, and get the things, and send to the mantua-maker's and milliner's. You had better get it off your mind at once. Suppose you leave it entirely to me. I attended to all the mourning for the Liscoms, and the Weldons, and the Noram quite used to. I pique myself tons. It is a business I on being rather clever at it." "I will then trust to your judgment," replied Mrs. Allerton, anxious to get rid of the subject, and of the light frivolous prattle of her soi-distant dear friend. "Be kind enough to undertake it, and procure for us whatever you think suitable-only let it not be too expensive." "As to that," answered Mrs. Bladen, "crape is crape, and bombazine is bombazine; and as every body likes to have these articles of good quality, nothing otherwise is now imported for mourning. With regard to Frederick's black suit. Mr. Watson will send to take his measure, and there will be no further difficulty about it. Let me see there must be bombazine for five dresses; that is, for yourself, three daughters, and Miss Allerton." "Not for me," said Constance, taking her handkerchief from her eyes." I shall not get bombazine." "My dear creature!" cried Mrs. Bladen; "not get a bombazine! You astonish me! What else can you possibly have? Black gingham or black chintz is only fit for wrappers; and black silk is no mourning at all." "I shall wear no mourning," replied Constance with a deep sigh." "Not wear mourning!" ejaculated Mrs. Bladen."What, no mourning at all! Not wear mourning for your own brother! Now you do indeed surprise me." Mrs. Allerton and her daughters were also surprised; and they withdrew their handkerchiefs from their eyes, and gazed on Constance, as if scarcely believing that they had understood her rightly. "I have considered it well," resumed Miss Allerton; "and I have come to a conclusion, to make no change in my dress. In short, to wear no mourning, even for my brother-well as I have loved him, and deeply as I feel his loss." "This is very strange," said Mrs. Allerton. "Excuse me, Miss Constance," said Mrs. Bladen, "but have you no respect for his memory? He was certainly an excellent man.' "Respect for his memory!" exclaimed Constance, bursting into tears. "Yes! I indeed respect his memory! And were he still living, there is nothing on earth I would not cheerfully do for him, if I thought it would contribute to his happiness or comfort. But he is now in a land where all the forms and ceremonies of this world are of no avail; and where every thing that speaks to the senses only. must appear like the mimic trappings of a theatre.With him all is now awful reality. To the decaying inhabitant of the narrow and gloomy grave, or to the disembodied spirit that has ascended to its Father in heaven, of what consequence is the color that distinguishes the dress of those whose mourning is deep in the heart! What to him is the livery that fashion has assigned to grief, when he knows how intense is the feeling itself, in the sorrowing bosoms of the family, that loved him so well?" "All this is very true," remarked Mrs. Bladen "but still, custom is every thing, or fashion as you are pleased to call it. You know, you are not a quaker; and therefore I do not see how you can possibly venture to go without mourning on such an occasion as this. Surely you would not set the usages of the world at defiance." "I would not," replied Constance, "in things of minor importance; but on this subject I believe I can be firm." "Of course," said Mrs. Bladen, " you will not go to the funeral without mourning." "I cannot go to the funeral at all," answered Constance. "Not go to the funeral!" exclaimed Mrs. Allerton."Dear Constance, you amaze me !"" "I hope," observed Mrs. Bladen, looking very serious, "there can be no reason to doubt Miss Allerton's affection for her brother?" "Oh!no!no! no!" cried the two girls indignantly, "If you had only seen," said Isabella, "how she nursed my dear father in his illness-how she was with him day and night." And how much she always loved him," said Helen My dear kind sister," said Mrs. Allerton, taking the hand of Constance, "I hope I shall never again see you distressed by such an intimation." Mrs. Bladen, reddened, looked down, and attentively examined the embroidered corners of her pocket handker chief. There was a silence of a few moments; till Constance, making an effort to speak with composure, proceeded to explain herself. "My brother," said she, "has finished his mortal existence. No human power. no human love, can aid him or soothe him now; and we will endeavor to submit with resignation to the will of Omnipotence. I hope-I trust we shall be able to do so; but the shock is yet too recent, and we cannot at once subdue the feelings of nature. It is dreadful to see the lifeless remains of one we have long and dearly loved, removed from our sight for ever, and consigned to the darkness and loneliness of the grave.For my part, on this sad occasion, I feel an utter repugnance to the idea of becoming an object of curiosity to the spectators that gaze from the windows, and to the vulgar and noisy crowd that assembles about a burying ground, when an interment is to take place, I cannot expose my tears, my deep affliction, to the comments of the multitude; and I cannot have my feelings outraged by, perhaps, overhearing their coarse remarks. I may be too fastidious-I may be wrong: but to be present at the funeral of my brother is an effort I cannot resolve to make. And, moreover" Here her voice for a few moments became inarticulate, and her sister and nieces sobbed audibly. "And then," she continued, "I cannot stand beside that open grave-I cannot see the coffin let down into it, and the earth thrown upon the lid till it is covered up for ever. I cannot--indeed I cannot. In the seclusion of my own apartment. I shall, of course, know that all this is going on, and I shall suffer most acutely; but there will be no strangers to witness my sufferings. It is a dreadful custom, that of females attending the funerals of their nearest relatives. I wish it were abolished throughout our country, as it is in many parts of Europe." "But you know," said Mrs. Bladen, "that it is almost universal in Philadelphia; and, "When we are in Rome we must do as Rome does." Besides which, it is certainly our duty always to see our friends and relatives laid in the "Not when we are assured," replied Constance, "that the melancholy office can be properly performed without our presence or assistance. Duty requires of us no sacrice by which neither the living nor the dead can be beneitted. But I have said enough; and I cannot be present at my brother's funeral." She then rose and left the room, unable any longer to Sustain a conversacion so painful to her. "Well, I am really astonished!" exclaimed Mrs. Bladen. "Not wearing mourning for her brother! Not go to has funeral! However, I suppose she thinks she has a right to do as she pleases. But, she may depend on it, people will talk." Just then a servant came to inform Mrs. Bladen that her husband was waiting for her in the parlor. "Well, my dear Mrs. Allerton," said she, as she rose to depart, "we have not yet settled about the mourning. Of course, you are not going to adopt Miss Constance's strange whim of wearing nowe at all." "What she has said on the subject appears to me very Jut," replied Mrs. Allerton. Aunt Constance is always right," remarked one of the "As to Miss Allerton," resumed Mrs. Bladen. "she is well known to be independent in every sense of the word; and therefore she may do as she pleases, though she may rest assured that people will talk." "What people?" asked Mrs. Allerton. "Every body-all the world." Mrs. Allerton thought how very circumscribed was the world in which she and her family had lived since the date of their fallen fortunes. "It is well known," pursued Mrs. Bladen, "that Miss Constance is able to wear mourning if she choose it. But O tay rely on it, Mrs. Allerton, that if you and your children do not appear in black, people will be ill-natured enough to say that it is, because you cannot afford it. Excuse my plainness." "They will say rightly, then," replied Mrs. Allerton, with a sigh. We certainly cannot afford it." How you talk!" said Mrs. Bladen. "Afford it or not, every body has to wear mourning, and every body does, in the highest doar mourning, and Everybodyasher woman put all her family (that is, herself and her six children) into black when her husband died; notwithwing that black when her husband heeds an idle, drunken Irishman, fatman, and beat them all around every day ther died in the alms-house a few weeks ago, has as Landsome a suit of mourning as any lady need desire to "May I request," said Mrs. Allerton." that you will arte me on this subject to right. llendeed, that neither wear. ink nor talk about it." "Well, then," replied Mrs. Bladen, kissing her, " I to find you better in the morning. I shall be with hope you immediately after breakfast." She then took her leave; and Constance, who had been weeping over the corpse of Mr. Allerton, now returned to the apartment of her sister-in-law. two boxes of Italian crape. Constance had just left the room. After the first salutations were over, Mrs. Bladen informed Mrs. Allerton that she had breakfasted an hour earlier than usual, that she might allow herself time to go out, and transact the business of the morning. "My dear friend," said she, "Mrs. Doubleprice has sent you, at my request, two pieces of bombazine, that you may choose for yourself. One is more of a jet black than the other-but I think the blue black rather the finest. However, they are both of superb quality, and this season jet black is rather the most fashionable. I have been to Miss Facings the mantua-maker, who is famous for mourning. Bombazines, when made up by her, have an air and a style about them, such as you will never see if done by any one else. There is nothing more difficult than to make up mourning as it ought to be. I have appointed Miss Facings to meet me here--I wonder she has not yet arrived--she can tell you how much is necessary for the four dresses. If Miss Allerton finally concludes to be like other people and put on black, I suppose she will attend to it herself. These very sensible young ladies are beyond my comprehension." "I am sure," said Ellen." no one is more easy to understand than my dear Aunt Constance." "And here," continued Mrs. Bladen, " is the double. width crape for the veils. As it is of very superior quality, you had best have it to trim the dresses, and for the neck handkerchiefs, and to border the black cloth shawls that you will have to get." We must remark to our readers that at the period of our story, it was customary to trim mourning dresses with a very broad fold of crape, reaching nearly from the feet to the knees. Mrs. Allerton on hearing the prices of the crape and bombazine declared them too expensive. "But only look at this quality," persisted Mrs. Bladen, "and you know the best things are always the cheapest in the end-and, as I told you, nobody now wears economical mourning." "We had best wear none of any description," said Mrs. Allerton. "Ah!" cried Mrs. Bladen, "I see that Miss Constance has been trying again to make a convert of you. Yet as you are not quakers, I know not how you will be able to shew your faces in the world, if you do not put on black. Excuse me, but innovations on established customs ought only to be attempten by people of note-by persons so far up in society that they may feel at liberty to do any outof-the-way thing with impunity A these influential persons would be so public-spirited "I wish, indeed," said Mrs. Allerton, "that some of set the example of dispensing with all customs that bear hard on people in narrow circumstances." The mantua-maker now made her appearance, and Mrs. Bladen exclaimed, "Oh!Miss Facings, we have been waiting for you to tell us exactly how much of every thing Mrs. Bladen and the mantua maker, respecting the quality A long and earnest discussion now took place between and quantity of the bombazine and crape. Mrs. Bladen enquired if there was no yard measure in the Released from the of Mrs. Bladen, leine now mildly a importunitieasoned with the family house. One was produced, and the measuring commenc- offer any further opposition. She sat with her handker Becessary expense of chief to her face, and daughters wept also. Mrs. "You are aware that it will not be necessary to pay the bills immediately." "Ah!" returned Mrs. Allerton, "I know not when they rming in their present circumstances. The season was late in the autumn and they had recently supplied themselves with their inter the all of which would can be paid. But we will strain every nerve to do it as be rendered their winter outfit, all be substituted soon as possible. I cannot bear the idea of remaining in Her arrendered useless if black must be Mrs. Allerton, debt for this mourningga with the concurrence promdgiverence of her daughters, very nearly change parted, and Miss Facings made her preparation their dress. Buttention of making a tener they had ting out the dresses, taking an opportunity of assuring the ped, to free themse feunrom the trammels of cus- weeping girls that nothing was more becoming to the Their business being accomplished, the shop boys de Mr. Allerton and Constance passed a sleepless night, their best in a new suit of mournitur figure than black bombazine, and that every we are to get." looked At this juncture, Constance returned to the room, and ad the children weep" hour in montere The awoke to weep at an early hakfast was extremely sorry to find that the fear of singer Litle was all meet in tearable twas scarcely and the officious perseverance of Mrs. Bladen, had super by one carrying Bladen carne in, followed by the other was now past remedy, our heroine, according to her usual dared, when Mrs. Baten, and the tablewed by two shop seded the better sense of her sister-in-law. But as the evil |