baby was the pet of both ladies, and lived chiefly | ed over before, returned now in crowds to my in the drawing-rcom; and I observed that Ellen recollection to confirm me in it. From that mofrequently accompanied him and his nurse in ment I renewed my observations daily, and with their early walks, attended by a footman. still increased vigilance, and was obliged to come The Seymours occupied the whole of my time; to the painful conclusion that my suspicions I gave up all parties for the present, on the score were not only but too well founded with regard of business, and I assure you it was quite as to Sir Charles, but that Ellen returned his pasmuch as one person could do conveniently to sion. Yes, she was romantically in love with the look to them. From discoveries I made, the fa- husband of her sister! I seldom find myself mily speedily became very interesting to me, 1 wrong in my opinions, yet, in this case, I would may say painfully interesting. Now I am not willingly have given five hundred pounds to feel at all given to romance or high-flying notions, sure that I was in error. Such was the interest seeing that I am but seldom known to invent any with which the extreme beauty, the vivacity and thing; what I am about to relate, may safely be grace of the youthful Eilen had inspired me. relied on as the result of an accurate, though Here then was food for philosophy as well as repainful investigation. flection. Who shall say that inquiries are impertinent, when such facts as these can be elicited. Had it not been for me—such is the apathy of people about what does not concern them-a base husband, an artful intriguing sister, might still have maintained a fair face to the world, but 1 was determined to cut the matter short, and open the eyes of the deluded wife as to the real extent of her injury. Honour compelled me to it. Let not the reader think me rash,-I will explain the circumstances which influenced my conviction. Oh, Ellen! how have I been deceived in thee! How hast thou betrayed a too susceptible heart.

Before communicating these discoveries to my readers, I pause, even on the threshold. I have endeavoured to bespeak their interests for the fair Ellen, as I felt a deep one for myself; but, truth must out, it is my duty.

From the first day of the arrival of the Seymours, as I shall continue to designate them, I had been struck by the evident dejection of Lady Seymour. I frequently observed her, when alone, bury her face in her hands, as she leant upon a small table beside the couch on which she sat.

Sir Charles was an M. P., which my ingenuity enabled me to make sure of. He frequently returned late from the debates in the House. The weather grew warm, and the shutters were always left open till the family retired for the night. Their lamps were brilliant, and I could discern the fair Ellen peeping over the balustrades of the staircase, and lingering and wait

The work, or the book, or the pencil-for she drew-was invariably thrown aside when her husband or her young sister quitted the apartment. The fine little baby seemed her greatest pleasure. He was a wild, struggling little fellow, full of health and spirits, almost toc much for her delicate frame, and apparently weak state of health. She could not herself nurse him long together, but I observed that the nurse was very frequently in the room with her, and that the fond mother followed and watched her little darling on the landing-place, evidently on the look ing almost constantly. She was surrounded by luxuries, by wealth. Her husband, in appearance at least, was one whom all women must admire; one of whom a wife might feel proud; she had a beautiful child; she was young, lovely, titled. What then could be the cause of this dejection? What could it be? I redoubled my attention: I was the last to retire and the first to rise. I determined to discover this mystery.

One morning I discerned her weeping-weeping bitterly. Her bed-room was in the front of the house; she was walking backwards and forwards between the window and the opened folding-doors, her handkerchief at her eyes. At first I thought she might have the tooth-ache,-not being given as I before said to romance: then I suspected her confinement was about to take place, but no, that could not be. No Mr. Blagden appeared; his carriage had not even been at her door for more than a week; at which I was rather surprised. She was evidently and decidedly weeping: I ascertained that beyond a doubt. A flash of light beamed across my mind! I have it! thought I,-perhaps her husband's affections are estranged. Could it be possible? Husbands are wayward things: I felt glad that I was not a husband.

out for an anxiously expected arrival. Then the cab of Sir Charles would stop at the door-his well-known knock would be heard, and Ellen would fly with the lightness of a fairy to meet him as he ascended the stairs. He would then fold her in his arms, and they would enter the drawing-room together; yet, before they did so, five or ten minutes' tete-a-tete frequently took place on the landing, and the arm of Sir Charles was constantly withdrawn from the waist of Ellen, before they opened the drawing-room door and appeared in the presence of the poor neglected wife, whom he greeted with no embrace, as he took his seat beside her on the sofa.

For some time I set down the empressment of Ellen to meet Sir Charles as that of a lively and affectionate girl to greet her sister's husband, in the manner she would receive her own brother. I was soon obliged to think differently.

When Ellen played on the harp, which she did almost daily, Sir Charles would stand listening beside her, and would frequently imprint a kiss on her beautiful brow, gently lifting aside the curls which covered it; but this never took place when Lady Seymour was in the room-mark that-no, not in a single instance. Sir Charles A kind of disagreeable and tormenting suspi- sometimes sat reading in a chair, near the drawcion at that moment strengthened my belief; a ing-room window, and would, as Ellen passed suspicion that,-how shall I speak it?-perhaps him, fondly draw her towards him and hold her he might love the beautiful Ellen. I tried to hands, while he appeared to converse with her banish the idea; but circumstances lightly pass-in the most animated manner. If the door open

ed, and the poor wife came in, the hands were | can detect these nice points accurately. Well, instantly released.

As the spring advanced, the appearance of Lady Seymour, and more frequent visits of Mr. Blagden, led me to suppose her confinement drew near; she became later in rising in the morning, and Sir Charles and Ellen almost constantly took a very early tete-a-tete walk in the Park, from which they usually returned long before Lady Seymour made her appearance in the drawing-room.

At length closed bed-room shutters, hurry and bustle, cart-loads of straw, and the galloping chariot of Mr. Blagden, announced the accouchment of Lady Seymour. All seemed happily over before the house was closed for the night.

Miss Ellen came into the room;-she was alone -she walked up to the picture, and gazed on it for a long while, and-will it be believed?pressed it several times to her lips and then to her heart!-Yes, I am quite sure she pressed it to her heart; no one can deceive me in that particular. She did not indeed think or guess that any eye observed her. Things have thus arrived at such a pass, that concealment on my part would have been criminal. My duty was clear; A very handsome man, with a viscount's coro- an instant exposure without regard to the feelnet on his cab, was a frequent visiter in Upper-ings of any one. But how could it be accomBrook street. I doubted not but that he was an plished without personal danger. Sir Charles admirer of and suitor to the fair Ellen. Yet she was a shot. I had seen a case of pistols arrive slighted him; he was entirely indifferent to her: from John Martin and Son, Dover-street; beotherwise why did she so often leave the draw-sides, he was big enough to eat me, so that puting-room during his very long morning visits, ting myself forward was out of the question. I and sit reading in the window of a room up stairs, had it-I would write to The Times and The or playing with the baby in the nursery, leaving True Sun, under the signature of A Friend to her sister to entertain him? The reason was too Morality.' That very night I condensed these evident; cruel and heartless Ellen! My heart notes into three columns, as I said to the editor, bled more and more for the poor wife; I abso- not to occupy too great a space in his valuable lutely began to hate Ellen. journal; and early on the following morning I arose to despatch my letters, when, what should greet my astonished senses, but at the door of the Seymours, the travelling carriage with four post horses! What could it mean? I had seen no signs of packing, no trunks or wagons. What could it mean? I stood perfectly aghast; my eyes were fixed intently upon the carriage. Oh: I had it again, my wits never fail me the murder was out. I need not write to The Times. Miss Ellen was discovered, and going to be sent off to school, or perhaps to 'dull aunts and croaking rooks,' in the country! I was glad to be spared the pain of forwarding the explanation; and yet-good heavens! what was my surprise and profound mystification when Sir Charles appeared, handing in, first Lady Seymour, a beautiful flush on her countenance, radiant with smiles, and almost as quick and light in her movements as Ellen herself-then the old nurse with the new baby: then Ellen smiling as usual; at last of all Sir Charles got upon the box followed by the Viscount!! and then off they drove as fast as the horses could carry them. My eyes and mouth continued wide open long after they had turned the corner into Park-lane. I was at my wits' end; at sea without a rudder. What could all this possibly portend? The little boy was left behind too! and all the servants, with the exception of one of the lady's maids, and Sir Charles's own man. Could it be that Ellen was going to be palmed off upon the poor deceived Viscount? But why then should they go out of town to be married? why had I not seen the least glimpse of a lawyer, or any preparation for a trousseau? and why did the new baby go with them? that could not be of much use at a wedding. No, that could not be it. Where could they be going? I passed a restless day, a sleepless night. The next morning I grew desperate, and was on the point of sallying forth in my cap and dressing-gown, to knock at the door of the deserted mansion, and demand satisfaction of the butler, when, who should I pounce upon at the door, but my old friend General Crosby. It was devilish unlucky, but I was obliged to ask him up. I intended to call on my friends the St. Legers, over the way,

Sir Charles and Ellen were in the drawingroom together. The lady's maid rushed into the apartment; I almost fancied I her exclaim, My lady is safe, and a fine boy.' So well did the deceitful Ellen act her joy, she clasped her hands together, and then, in apparent delight of her heart, she shook hands with the maid, who left the room directly. My heart was relenting towards her, as she was flying to follow the woman, no doubt with the intention of hastening to the bed-side of her sister; but no-she returned to tenderly embrace Sir Charles before she quitted the drawing-room. At such a time too! Oh, faithless and cruel Ellen!

Sir Charles and Ellen were now more frequently together-more in love than ever. They sung together, read together, walked together, played with the little boy together, and nursed the new little baby in turns.

In due course of time, poor Lady Seymour recovered and resumed her station in the drawingroom, and then Sir Charles was less frequently at home. I was furious at him as well as at Ellen. All my tender compassion and interest centred in the unhappy and neglected wife.

One other instance in corroboration of the justness of my suspicions I will relate. A miniature painter, whom I knew by sight, came early every morning to the house. Sir Charles was sitting for his picture. One morning, when I concluded it must be nearly finished, Sir Charles and the artist left the house together. I saw the picture lying on the table near the window, in the same spot where the artist had been working at it for nearly two hours before, while Sir Charles was sitting to him. I had not for a moment lost sight of it, and am ready to affirm, upon oath, that the miniature was the likeness of Sir Charles, and of no one else; for you must know that I have a small pocket-telescope by which I

THE PIRATE'S SONG-THE Blind man's wife.

More Passages from the Diary of a Physician.
THE BOXER.

[The following is the episode of the Boxer, which occurs in the story of the Thunder-struck.] The patient who thus abruptly, and under circumstances inopportunely, required my services, proved to be one Bill, a notorious boxer, who, in returning that evening from a great prize-fight, had been thrown out of his gig, the horse being frightened by the lightning, and the rider besides much the worse for liquor, and had his ancle dreadfully dislocated. He had been taken up by some passengers, and conveyed with great difficulty to his own residence, a public house, not three minutes' walk from where I lived. The moment I entered the tap-room, which I had to pass on my way to the stair-case, 1 heard his groans, or rather howls, over head. The excitement of intoxication, added to the agonies occasioned by his accident, had driven him, I was told, nearly mad. He was uttering the most revolting execrations, as I entered his room. He damned himself-his ill-luck (for it seemed he had lost considerable sums on the fight)-the combatants-the horse that threw him-the thunder and lightning-every thing, in short, and every body about him. The sound of the thunder was sublime music to me, and the more welcome, because it drowned the blasphemous bellowing of the monster I was visiting. Yes, there lay the burly boxer, stretched upon the bed, with none of his dress removed, except the boot from the limb that was injured-his new blue coat, with glaring yellow buttons, and drab knee-breeches, soiled with the street mud into which he had been precipitated-his huge limbs, writhing in restless agony over the bed-his fists clenched, and his flat, iron-featured face swollen and distorted with pain and rage.

"But, my good woman," said I, pausing at the door, addressing myself to the boxer's wife, who, wringing her hands, had conducted me up stairs, "I assure you, I am not the person you should have sent to. It's a surgeon's, not a physician's ease; I fear I can't do much for him-quite out of my way."

"Oh, for God's sake-for the love of God, don't say so?" gasped the poor creature, with affrighted emphasis-Oh, do something for him, or he'll drive us all out of our senses-he'll be killing us!"

"Do something," roared out my patient, who had overheard the last words of his wife, turning his bloated face towards me" do something indeed! ay, and be to you! Here, here-look ye, Doctor: look ye, here!" he continued, pointing to the wounded foot, which, all crushed and displaced, and the stocking soaked with blood, presented a shocking appearance" look here, indeed!-ah! that horse! that horse!" his teeth gnashed, and his right hand was lifted up, clenched with fury-"If I don't break every bone in his body, as soon as ever I can stir this cursed leg again!"

I felt, for a moment, as though I had entered the very pit and presence of Satan, for the lightning was gleaming over his ruffianly figure incessantly, and the thunder rolling close overhead while he was speaking.

"Hush! hush! you'll drive the Doctor away!

For pity's sake, hold your tongue, or Dr.
won't come into the room to you!" gasped his
wife, dropping on her knees beside him.
"Ha, ha, let him go! Only let him stir a step,
and lame as I am,- me! if I don't jump out
of bed, and teach him civility! Here, you doctor,
as you call yourself! What's to be done?"
Really, I was too much shocked at the moment,
to know. I was half inclined to leave the room
immediately and had a fair plea for doing so,
in the surgical nature of the case-but the agony
of the fellow's wife induced me to do violence to a
my feelings, and stay. After directing a person
to be sent off, in my name, for the nearest sur-
geon, I addressed myself to my task, and pro-
ceeded to remove the stocking. His whole body
quivered with the anguish it occasioned, and 1
saw such fury gathering in his features, that I
began to dread lest he might rise up in a sudden
phrenzy, and strike me.

"Oh! oh! oh!-Curse your clumsy bands! You don't know no more nor a child!" he groaned, "what you're about! Leave it-leave it alone! Give over with ye! Doctor, 1 say, be off!"

"Mercy, mercy, Doctor!" sobbed his wife in a whisper, fearing from my momentary pause, that I was going to take her husband at his word "Don't go away! Oh, go on-go on! It must be done, you know? Never mind what he says. He's only a little worse for liquor now-andand then the pain! Go on, doctor! He'll thank you the more for it to-morrow."

"Wife! Here," shouted her husband. The woman instantly stepped up to him. He stretched out his Herculean arm, and grasped her by the shoulder.

66

So, you I'm drunk, am I? I'm drunk eh-you lying!" he exclaimed, and jerked her violently away right across the room, to the door, where the poor creature fell down, but presently rose, crying bitterlyn m

"Get away! Get off-get down stairs-if you don't want me to serve you the same again. Say I'm drunk-you beast?" With frantic gestures she obeyed-rushed down stairs-and I was left alone with her husband. I was disposed to follow her abruptly, but the positive dread of my life (for he might leap out of bed and kill me with a blow) kept me to my task. My flesh crept with disgust at touching his! I examined the wound, which undoubtedly must have given him torture enough to drive him mad, and bathed it in warm water; resolved to pay no attention to his abuse, and quit the instant that the surgeon, who had been sent for, made his appearance. At length he came. I breathed more freely, resigned the case into his hands, and was going to take up my hat, when he begged me to continue in the room, with such on earnest apprehensive look, that I reluctantly remained. I saw he dreaded as much being left alone with his patient, as I! It need hardly be said, that every step that was taken in dressing the wound, was attended with the vilest execrations of the patient. Such a foul mouthed ruffian I never encountered any where. It seemed as though he was possessed of a devil. What a contrast to the sweet speechless sufferer who I had left at home! and to whom my heart yearned to return.

THE VALLEY OF JEHOSHAPHAT-BEAUTY.

The storm still continued raging. The rain had comparatively ceased, but the thunder and lightning made their appearance with fearful frequency and fierceness. I drew down the blind of the window; observing to the surgeon that the lightning seemed to startle our patient. "Put it up again! Put up that blind again, I say!" he cried impatiently. "D'ye think I'm afeard of the lightning, like my horse today? Put it up again-or I'll get out and do it myself!" I did as he wished. Reproof or expostulation was useless. "Ha!" he exclaimed in a low tone of fury, rubbing his hands together -in a manner bathing them in the fiery stream, as a flash of lightning gleamed ruddily over him. "There it is!-Curse it-just the sort of flash that frightened my horse-d- it!"-and the impious wretch shook his fist, and "grinned horribly a ghastly smile!"

"Be silent, sir! be silent! or we will both leave you instantly. Your behaviour is impious! It is frightful to witness! Forbear, lest the vengeance of God descend upon you!" "Come, come: none o' your methodism here! Go on with your business! Stick to your shop," interrupted the Boxer.

"Does not that rebuke your blasphemies?" I inquired, suddenly shading my eyes from the vivid stream of lightning that burst into the room, while the thunder rattled overhead-apparently in fearful proximity. When I removed my hands from my eyes, and opened them, the first object that they fell upon was the figure of the Boxer, sitting upright in bed, with both hands stretched out, just as those of Elymas, the sorcerer, in the picture of Raphael-his face the colour of a corpse-and his eyes almost starting out of their sockets, directed with a horrid stare towards the window. His lips moved not-nor did he utter a sound. It was clear what had occurred. The wrathful fire of Heaven, that had glanced harmlessly around us, had blinded the blasphemer. Yes, the sight of his eyes had perished. While we were gazing at him in silent awe, he fell back in bed speechless, and clasped his hands over his breast, seemingly in an attitude of despair. But for that motion we should have thought him dead. Shocked beyond expression, Mr. paused in his operations. I examined the eyes of the patient. The pupils were both dilated to their utmost extent, and immoveable. I asked many questions, but he answered not a word. Occasionally, however, a groan of horror agony, (or all combined) would burst from his pent bosom; and this was the only evidence he gave of consciousness. He moved over on his right sidehis "pale face turned to the wall"-and unclasping his hands, pressed the fore-finger of each with convulsive force upon the eyes. Mr. proceeded with his task. What a contrast between the present and past behaviour of our patient. Do what we would-put him to never such great pain-he neither uttered a syllable nor expressed any symptoms of passion, as before. There was, however, no necessity for my continuing any longer; so I left the case in the hands of Mr. who undertook to acquaint Mrs. with the frightful accident that had happened to her husband. What two scenes had I witnessed that evening'

67

VALLEY OF JEHOSHAPHAT. A late Blackwood, in an article entitled Chateaubriand, contains among other extracts from his works, the following beautiful description of the Valley of Jehoshaphat.

The valley of Jehoshaphat has in all ages served as the burying-place to Jerusalem; you meet there, side by side, monuments of the most distant times and of the present century. The Jews still come there to die; from the corners of the earth. A stranger sells to them, for almost its weight in gold, the land which contains the bones of their fathers. Solomon planted that valley; the shadow of the Temple by which it was overhung-the torrent, called after grief, which traversed it-the Psalms which David there composed-the Lamentations of Jeremiah, which its rocks re-echoed under it the fitting abode of the tomb. Christ commenced his Passion in the same place: that innocent David there shed, for the expiation of our sins, tears which the guilty David let fall for his own transgressions. Few names awaken in our mind recollections so solemn as the Valley of Jehoshaphat. It is so full of mysteries, that according to the Prophet Joel, all mankind will be assembled there before the Eternal Judge.

"The aspect of this celebrated valley is desolate; the western side is bounded by a ridge of lofty rocks which support the walls of Jerusalem, above which the towers of the city appear. The eastern side is formed by the Mount of Olives, and another eminence called the Mount Scandal, from the idolatry of Solomon.These two mountains, which adjoin each other, are almost bare, and of a red and sombre hue; on their desert side you see here and there some black and withered vineyards, some wild olives, some ploughed land, covered with hyssop, and a few ruined chapels. At the bottom of the valley, you perceive a torrent, traversed by a single arch, which appears of great antiquity. The stones of the Jewish cemetery appear like a mass of ruins with which they are surrounded. Three ancient monuments are particularly conspicuous, those of Zachariah, Jehoshaphat and Absalom. The sadness of Jerusalem, from which no smoke ascends, and in which no sound is heard; the solitude of the surrounding mountains, where not a living creature is to be seen; the disorder of these tombs, ruined, ransacked, and half exposed to view, would almost induce one to believe that the last trump had been heard, and that the dead were about to rise in the valley of Jehoshaphat.

AMERICAN BEAUTY. Neither English beauty nor French beauty, neither Spanish beauty nor Italian beauty, is so shifting, or so modest, or so intellectual as American beauty. More attractive they all are on some accounts, more wonderful and more showy, but they are unlike it-even the beauty of England is so-in the sweetness and composure, in the spiritualized air, that one sees in the youthful women of our country,particularly at the south, and in the free, cordial, generous manner, that so eminently distinguish the well cultivated female of the north, where we may find more nature and less affectation, perhaps, than among any other women of the age.