the day of ordination arrived and with it the goodly bishop. No hope was left me. I bowea silently to my fate-how could I avert it? At my death,' thought I, I shall deserve canonization, for surely I am one of the suffering martyrs.' Never arose from a sleepless couch a candidate for the holy orders with a less thankful spirit. I cursed her light-heartedness; dressed myself for the ceremony, determining to commit a suicidal act in eschewing matrimony, to live a womanhater, and take the yoke. "As nearly as I can recollect," returned Cavanagh. "Don't interrupt me, for I'm getting excited with my story. If he did not say it, he meant it, and sure, if it comes so close to it, it must be the same thing. "Cut his acquaintance,' said he, for he is a deserter to his bishop, his religion, and his God.'" "Did he put the bishop first?" asked another "To be sure he did; he knew it was the only chance he had. I expel him,' he said, 'from the college; I denounce him as a renegade, a seducer, and a hypocrite, from the altar; and it's only out of the respect I have for his decent father that I spare him the anathema of the "I entered the chapel, where about a dozen others were assembled, each with as long a face as I had myself, awaiting the commencement of the ceremony, which was to debar us forever from one of the world's most glorious privileges-church.' the privilege of fulfilling morally one great law of nature, and living, not in self alone, but in the bosoms of our families, and in the memories of our posterity. "I was astounded. Still his eyes were fixed like basilisks upon me: cold perspirations flowed from my forehead-my brain reeled-my senses became stupefied. I staggered, and fell to the ground. "That day, in disgrace, I left the college and returned to my home. Oh, the dread of that return-of meeting with my parents-of confessing the truth! Yet, what could I do? Sooner or later it must be exposed; and who more ft for the office than their conscience-stricken, "The bishop entered, and said mass; driving the front of every word into the back of the one that preceded it-by that I mean, he had a talent for moulding a dozen words into one, kicking colons, semicolons, and periods out of the way of his tongue altogether, and coming to the 'Amen' without drawing a second breath. I felt my own littleness as I listened to him, and won-humiliated son? dered if time, practice, and sundry Demosthenic operations, could ever bring me to so great a state of sublunary perfection. The beauty of doing it off-hand you see, is that it completely bothers old Beelzebub, and he hops over the words in a hurry, like a cat over a crock of butter, for fear that any of it should stick to his hoof What the devil are ye laughing at? I'm telling you a sentimental story, and looking more for sympathy and industrious pocket handkorchiefs, then such irreverend cachinnatory eruptions and unseemly shaking sides. Well, he turned round at the altar to do the job for us; and, as he turned, his eye fell full upon me. Says I to myself, I am the first to get polished off,' and I was right. "Do any of you,' he said, 'know a young man named "Felix Cavanagh?" His eyes were still fixed upon me; I suspected that he knew me, and wondered at his having asked the question. "Well, to make a long story short, and pass over unpleasant details, the matter was soldered up in some tinkering style, and Felix Cavanagh was once more a guest beneath the paternal roof. It was a severe blow to my father-not so to my mother; she half rejoiced at the idea of one day becoming a grandmother. Yet was there less chance of that now than ever; for Mary had evi dently been as false to me as Delilah was to her Sampson. She had betrayed me, and to the bishops. She had jilted me, and in the face of day I cursed her with my tongue, and loved her in my heart. Exactly a fortnight following my expulsion, a small parcel, directed to me, was delivered at our house. The handwriting, the clear up-strokes, and the angular t's, the ‘x' in the 'Felix,' and 'C' in the 'Cavanagh,' were all familiar to my eyes. With a cry of rapture tore open the packet. Death to my hopes!, It contained nothing save a corner of a bride's cake. I flung it from me in disgust. Insult had been heaped upon injury-the false Siren had wooed me to my destruction! I foreswore the sex for "I do, holy father!' I returned. "Then cut his acquaintance for the future,' he said, solemnly, or you may take a long jour-ever, neglected my budding whiskers, and in the ney with him to a place where the smell of too much brimstone may be mightily inconvenient."" “Did he say that?” shouted Cox, in the midst of a violent roar of laughter. depth of my misery, resigned myself to composing epitaphs and writing poetry. Two days after ward my mother found the piece of cake; she cut it, begged of me to think no more of Mary, woman. but to eat a part of her present, and be thankful for my riddance from so volatile and unfeeling a The advice was wholesome: I adopted it; so, thrusting a corner of the cake into my mouth, I attempted to masticate that pledge of unfaithfulness. I could not do it; it appeared too tough. Something, evidently not made of wheat and sugar-plums, rested between my teeth. I withdrew it, and, to my utter amazement, rolled together tightly amidst the currants and sweets I found the last letter I had written to the bishop, upon the day when I asked Mary to elope with me." "How came it there?" demanded one. "The simplest way in the world. In directing my letters, I sent my love-tale to the bishop, and my opinion of Mary to my sweetheart. She thought me cruel, false, and unprincipled, and in the heat of her resentment, committed a species of moral suicide, by discarding her Felix, and flinging herself away upon an attorney. Such is my melancholy history; and these are the reasons why I am neither a husband nor a priest." JOSEPHA, A LEAF FROM HISTORY. BY MRS. E. L. CUSHING. Come, beautiful betrothed! the bitter sting CROLY. But the Empress Maria Theresa saw only the timidity and caprice of a petted child, in her daughter's tears and entreaties. She regarded, as she thought, her children's permanent interest and happiness in the alliances she formed for them, no less than her own ambition, which ever sought an extension of power, and in accordance with the impulses of her maternal duty, she con On a fine September evening, in the year 1767, the gay city of Vienna exhibited unusual tokens of festivity, the imperial palace was brilliantly illuminated, and from its princely gardens came the sounds of mirth and music, while its lighted halls were thronged with the beautiful and high-strained the young Josepha to yield an unwilling born of the land. assent to Ferdinand's overtures. These rejoicings were in honor of one of the fairest daughters of the house of Austria; the favorite of Maria Theresa's maternal heart, and the pride of the court-the young and lovely Archduchess Josepha-who on that day had been publicly betrothed to Ferdinand, King of Naples. Already was she hailed as a queen by the courtly circle gathered around her, who yet rendered still deeper homage to her beauty than to her rank. And it was on the arrival of the princely depe tation, who came in the name of their royal master to demand the young Archduchess as their queen, that arrayed in regal robes, she appeared in the midst of her mother's court receive the greetings of the envoys. But those who watched her through the gorgeous, but to her, sad ceremonial of that day, saw no queenly triumph on her brow, though circled by a diadem; no gladness in her step, no joy in the downcast tearful glances of her eye; and they marveled at such indifference, in one so young, to the brilliant destiny which awaited her. One only, read the secret anguish of her young and loving heart-one, in that courtly circle, who, though he had not openly aspired to her favor, worshiped her in secret, feeding his cherished love with the sweet looks and words which she dispensed on him with bashful prodigality; ever singling out from among her admiring train, the young Hungarian soldier, who had vowed himself to the service of her imperial And never did a fairer object claim the general love and admiration than this youthful princess. She had not yet completed her fifteenth year, yet she was tall and striking in her person, exquisitely formed, and with a face full of expression, which varied with every changing thought and feeling of her innocent heart. Her manner was graceful, and playful almost to childishness, but chastened by a sweet gentleness that lent it an irresistible charm. Her tastes, formed by those of her illustrious mother, were pure and simple, and her affection for her family was so deep and passionate, that the bare idea of sepa-mother, and who had already reaped high honors rating from them, filled her soul with grief. Her very being seemed entwined with that of her sisters her brothers were her idols-and her mother, next to her God, the object of her profoundest love and veneration. So youthful, and so closely knit by nature's tenderest ties to the fond hearts of her kindred, it is no wonder she should shrink from a union with a stranger and a foreigner-one whom she had never seen, and whose very name brought home to her a deep sorrow; for her betrothed husband had already been affianced to her sister Joanna, who, before her vows were ratified, was destined to make her bridal bed in the grave; and a secret superstition that she should share the fate of her whose place she was chosen to fill, possessed the reluctant heart of Josepha. by gallantly maintaining her cause in council and in field. Thus, from many tokens Count Dalmanoff knew he had won a place in the heart of the beautiful princess, and that on this fatal night they were closely united in sorrow at the cruel demolition of their dearest hopes. Nor could the empress, while she marked the troubled countenance of her daughter, silence the upbraiding voice, which from the depths of her soul, whispered that she was sacrificing her child to the demon of ambition-that ruthless ambition which she had ever permitted to exercise too wide a sway over her wise and beneficent heart. It was, therefore, a relief to her when at last the music ceased, the dance ended, the blare of light was quenched, and she was left alone to commune with Heaven and herself; though even then with the casuistry common to those who rule, she sought to justify, by false and specious pretexts, even the sacrifice of her child. this endless exile from all I loved, is it not terrible?" "Do not call it an endless exile, my Josepha," said her sister, "but only a transient sojourn mate in which you are to live-of the fair realm over which you are to reign in all the splendor of royalty—and then tell me, my little one," she added, with a smile, "what there is in all this which so affrights your imagination?" Alone too, and in darkness, struggling with her rebellious heart, remained the unhappy vic-in a land of beauty-think of the delicious clitim of her imperial mother's policy. Her tearful face buried in her hands, and her long, fair hair falling like a rich veil over her neck and shoulders, the young Queen of Naples knelt at the shrine of the Virgin, before whose consecrated image burned the only lamp which faintly illuminated her chamber. The gorgeous robes which had decked her for her bridal, were lying were her attendants had left them, and on her toilette sparkled the diamond tiara which that night had crowned her aching brow with royalty. How worthless to the sorrowing princess, seemed those costly gauds, for which she had been compelled to cast away the richer treasures of the heart! How dark looked to her the future! and with what poignant regret she recalled the happy, irrevocable past! These bitter thoughts would intrude even upon her devotions, and with them came fresh bursts of tears, and audible, impassioned invocations, broken by her sobs: Pitying mother, hear and save me!" she cried, "thou knowest the wretchedness of my heart-its horror at this marriage-its hatred of this idle pomp. Gracious mother, take me to thy arms, safe from the sorrows and snares that beset my youth." "Ah, you may smile, Christina," said Josepha, sadly; "you who are wedded to a man you love, and who with him may often return here to enjoy your early home. But the thought of quitting all that is dear to me, brings with it the bitterness of death-sisters and brothers, and my beloved mother, cruel though she is in this act, for one whom I never knew-who wooes me without affection, who may never love me, perhaps; but give me hate instead, in that strange land where my heart will never find a home." "And why, my Josepha, should it not find a home, and a blessed one, in that land of beauty and bloom, and happiness in the ties which must there link it to new and tender objects of affection?" asked the princess. "My answer lies here," she said, pointing to a miniature which lay upon a table; "cast your eyes, Christina, upon the face of my betrothed husband, and no longer marvel at my despair. Already has that painted semblance inspired me with disgust, which I vainly strive to conquer, In an agony of grief she sank prostrate at the and the grief I feel at quitting all I hold dear on foot of the altar, when a light step approached-earth, is enhanced by the conviction that he with a soft arm raised and sustained her, and a gentle whom I am to unite my fate can never inspire me voice joining in her supplications, entreated for with affection." her heavenly composure, and that all rich gifts of celestial and earthly joy might unite to crown and bless her life. Josepha knew the voice of her sister Christina, the beautiful and gifted wife of Prince Albert of Saxony, and casting herself into her arms, she wept without control upon her bosom. Christina clasped her weeping sister in a fond embrace, kissing her lips and cheeks with passionate tenderness, and bathing them with her own fast flowing tears. "Be comforted, my sister," she said at length, "God smiles on your filial obedience, and he will not suffer it to go unrewarded;" and her low, sweet voice was tremulous with emotion as she spoke. "A portrait is seldom faithful to its original Josepha, and doubtless this is not so. Ferdinand is neither great nor warlike, yet report declares him amiable and beneficent, and these virtues will more surely promote your happiness, than if, by his valor he gained a hundred battles, or by his genius outwitted all the courts of Europe." "If such had been your reasoning, Christina, in days past," said the young queen, with some bitterness; "the Duke de Chablais might have won his bride, and Prince Albert have become the husband of another." "I loved Prince Albert," said Christina, earnestly;" and I saw no reason of state policy to forbid the gift of my hand where my affections "Ah, Christina, needed there this dreadful had long been bestowed, though had our mother sacrifice to test its strength?" sobbed the young disapproved my choice, I should probably have Josepha. " God knows I would have laid down yielded to her wishes and resigned him. As the my life for my mother-but this living death-children of a great sovereign, I think we are bound to consult the interests of the realm in our matrimonial alliances, rather than our own inclinations, though this is very hard, especially if called upon to renounce the heart's affection for cold and worldly interest. And I feel this so much, that if I thought you loved another, my Josepha, I could not, with all my boasted stoicism, thus calmly urge you to fulfill your duty. But I am spared that fear, since" endurance by this sleepless night. For see! the yellow dawn is actually pushing through the curtains, and you have not slept. I pray you now, my sister, seek some repose, and comfort yourself with the assurance that the Queen of delicious Naples shall not have cause to complain that the princess of cold and rude Saxony is a stranger at her court." On the following day Josepha was really indisposed, and permitted, in consequence, to remain in the privacy of her apartments-but when several succeeding days passed on and the same plea for her non-appearance was urged, the empress, perceiving that the mind only was un At these words, Josepha started with a sudden bound from her sister's encircling arm. A burning blush crimsoned her face, and burying it in her hands, her whole frame shook with emotion. The princess Christina sprang toward her, doubt and dismay filled her heart, as laying her trem-tuned, required her presence again in public, as bling hand upon her sister's, she softly asked, "Can this be so, my poor Josepha ?" For an instant the young girl made no reply, then conquering her emotion by a powerful effort, she turned toward Christina a face pale as her robe, and said in a low but calm voice: "And if it be, my sister, still it must be borne, it is the penalty of our birth, and the daughter of Maria Theresa must fulfill her destiny by wedding a royal wooer-ay, even though in the humbler object of her love were united every virtue and every gift save sovereignty. Yes, this is the cruel doom that appertains to our greatness, and we cannot stir from it. Ah, my Christina, peasants envy us, because, dazzled by the jewels that cover our aching hearts, they see not the blighted hopes and cankering griefs that corrode them." "And can I give you neither aid nor comfort, my poor sister?" asked Christina, with tears of affectionate earnestness. "Give me your confidence, dearest, it is so hard to suffer alone the pangs of disappointed affection. Ah, could I but help you I so well remember when my father for a time opposed my union with Prince Albert, what a wretch I was-the world held not another so miserable." "Ah, for me there can be no relentings," said Josepha, "my fate is sealed-but not long shall I be held in thraldom, for I feel a secret intimation which I cannot resist, nay, I often hear a whispher as if from Joanna's pallid lips, that before long the tomb will hold in its cold bosom the two betrothed brides of Ferdinand of Naples." "Do not yield to such foolish fancies," said the princess, "you who are flushed with health and strong in youth, to give way to such imaginings is quite absurd. Your nervous system is unstrung, my dear Josepha, by the fatigues of the day, and you are taxing your strength beyond the only means of dispelling the morbid melancholy to which she was perpetually yielding. But it was in vain that by alternate reasoning and persuasion her mother strove to reconcile her to her destiny, or that her sisters sought to cheer and divert her with the pictures of gayety and splendor that were to make her court the most attractive in Europe-nothing had the power to rouse her from her deep depression, and shunning the gayety around her, and even the society of her friends, she would spend hour after hour alone in her oratory, or wandering in listless abstraction through the most sequestered walks of the gardens. The empress suffered for her child, and the more keenly as her own upbraidings were severe, for though a great and magnificent sovereign, she was also a tender, even if ambitious mother; but regarding the young bride only as a wayward and romantic child, she confidently anticipated the time, when the active duties and pleasures of her brilliant station would so engross and interest her, as to restore the animation she had lost, and reconcile her to her destiny. Such continued the situation of affairs at the Austrian court, till the day was close at hand on which Josepha was to bid it a last farewell, and escorted by a brilliant retinue set out for her new dominions. On the morning previous to that fixed for her departure, as she sat alone in her closet, she was startled by a low knock at the door, and before she could rise to open it, she heard the voice of the empress requesting admittance. Josephs was surprised, for seldom before had her mother intruded on her hours of religious retirementshe was herself too scrupulous an observer of every external form of the church, unwillingly to interrupt others in their devotions, and as Josepha hastily unclosed the door, she trembled with undefined apprehension. |