loved her deeply; and she strove to destroy by coldness the illusion that might be fatal to my peace. I could not bear it; it was better to know the worst. We were left alone one evening, and with trembling lips and incoherent words, I strove to tell her of my love. She did not suffer me to proceed, but kindly took my hand in hers and said, 'Signor Rosa, from childhood my heart has been another's.' Darkness came over me, and the sable pall will never be drawn aside."

He paused for a moment, and then continued; "I would not, could not see Bianca. The romance of life was at an end. I shut myself up among the creations of my pencil, but they failed to awaken my spirit from its lethargy; and I find the energies of my soul withering daily, and my frame consuming with the fire that will not be quenched."

Tears glistened in the eyes of the sensitive Italian, and he hurried on. "I love you, Melburn; you would save me from myself, and you have made me feel that there is disinterested kindness in humanity. There have been times, my friend, when a whispering demon seemed urging me to rid myself of the load that oppressed me—it is but a drop of opiate-it is but the keen point of the dark blue steel-it is but the flash of a moment, and all will be over. Then there came thoughts of the dread loneliness and degradation of the grave-perhaps the judgment! and-"

"Giovanni," said Melburn solemnly, interrupting him, "brave not the Most High. Life is a precious deposit, and it is not for man to interfere with the will of Omnipotence. Suicide is the crime of a coward, perpetrated in moral darkness; it is a crime which leaves not a moment for repentance or for pardon, but ushers the blood-stained soul unshriven into the presence of its God."

A shudder passed over the frame of the Italian as he drew from his bosom a small poignard of exquisite workmanship; "Take it-take it, Melburn," he exclaimed, "you have saved me."

of the contemplated journey to Naples. "You will forget me, Melburn," he said sorrowfully; "the remembrance of me will be but as a passing shadow, while you will live within my heart. But you will return, will you not?" At all events, I

"Yes, Giovanni-perhaps soon. shall spend some time again in Rome before I bid adieu to beautiful Italy forever."

"I hope so," exclaimed Rosa, as he grasped Melburn's hand at parting; "I will remember your counsel-I will strive 'in this to overcome.'"

"Ay, Rosa, for my sake, and for your future fame, struggle on, it will not be in vain."

The Italian gazed at the receding form of the young Englishman until it disappeared; and then hurrying home, he rushed to his room and burst

into tears.

It was on the evening of the second day after his departure from Rome that Arthur Melburn arrived in Naples. Travel-worn and covered with dust as he was, he sought instantly the salon where he expected to meet his relatives. No one was there but Alice; and as she rose hastily to meet him, he could scarcely believe that the beautiful being before him was the gay, romping cousin of earlier days. What the countenance had lost of ruddiness and glow, it had gained in the intellectual, I may almost say the spiritual expression that now characterized it. Eloquent thought had stamped a serene loveliness upon her brow, and feeling had robbed the cheek of its roses to impart a softer lustre to her eye. Arthur clasped her hands in his, gazed at her, hesitated, and then raised one fair hand to his lips. "Dear Alice," he said, and as those tones fell upon her ear, a crimson blush passed over her face, and then left it paler than before. And what were the feelings of Melburn? Ah, at such moments how memories throng upon the overpowered heart, concentrating in one glowing point the beautiful rays that have illumined life, and fastening as with a diamond rivet the slender links of love's frail chain.

It was now too late for them to think of visiting the Coliseum-besides, their minds were not in a state to do so; and after making an appointment for the morrow, they separated.

When Melburn reached his room at the hotel, he was delighted to find letters from his relatives, who had just arrived in Naples from Sicily, announcing their intention of remaining there for some weeks, and begging him to join their party immediately. Nothing could have happened more opportunely; for, for some days past, he had been thinking seriously of setting out to overtake them wherever they might be. And then the image of Alice-how often did it mingle in his dreams, and haunt his waking hours.

The next day he spent with Giovanni Rosa in wandering among the ruins of Rome; and it was with sincere regret that the enthusiastic Italian heard

of years have given to it enduring strength, and then it must be a power almost super-human that can sever it.

How much there was to hear, how much to tell; and as each member of the family welcomed the new comer, how pleasant it was to feel almost at home again, though in a land of strangers. In the society of Alice, whose mind was capable of appreciating his superior attainments, Melburn visited all the places worthy of notice in and around Naples; and each day, as it verged to its decline, added some memorial of happiness to be garnered in their hearts. Theirs was not a love blinded by passion, exaggerated in its impulses, and consuming to ashes while it burned; but it was the genial ray lent by Heaven to gladden with its pure light the darker pathways of this world. It was love such as an angel might have looked upon, without feeling that the spirit had been tinged by aught of earthly stain.

Week after week rolled on with a rapidity almost incredible, for time to the happy is winged with swifter pinions, and the winter had nearly passed away before they returned to Rome.

Melburn's first visit was to the studio of the young painter. His cheek was paler, and his frame more attenuated, but the expression of his countenance was less wild and haggard. In the endearing epithets of his sweet language he welcomed the traveler, and gazed upon him with a melancholy tenderness.

Ah, Melburn," he said, after their first congratulations had been exchanged, "ah, Melburn, I began to fear that I should never look upon your face again. It would have grieved me to descend into the cold, dark grave without having once more heard the tones of sympathy and kindness. I have struggled to smother the contending passions within my breast; I have suffered; but I have been calm." "You apply yourself too closely to your art, Giovanni; why not abandon it for a time, and seek renovated health in change of air, and change of scene?" "I shall carry the same heart with me, Melburn; it is too late. I feel that I am dying-the withering blight of years has struck home. But let us not dwell upon that now. It does me good to see you once more; and to feel that I have one friend in the wide world."

"Yes, Giovanni," answered the young Englishman, the bond of friendship has become strong between us, although but a few months ago we met as strangers. I know not what mysterious sympathy attracted us to each other, but I felt from the moment I saw you, as if there was a connecting link in our destinies. An impulse which I cannot define induced me to offer you the seat in my traveling carriage, as I was leaving Florence; and when we reached Rome, I could not think of parting from you as a stranger. I see with pain that your health is failing; dear Rosa, let me persuade you to accompany me next month to England. Circumscribed means need be no obstacle, for I have wealth enough to spare; nay, interrupt me not— he is not my friend who would refuse to receive so small an obligation at my hands. The journey might restore your waning strength, and after a residence of a few months there, you might return to your country with a renovated frame and a happier mind. Since I left you, Giovanni, I have become affianced to one whom I have long loved; and she will unite with me, I am sure, in striving to make you happy."

"I wish you joy, Melburn," exclaimed the Italian with much feeling; "God grant that she may be worthy of you. But, my friend, I cannot accept your kind offer. I would die here-here in the beautiful land that gave me birth; surrounded by the objects I have worshiped, and on the spot where I first met her. Here must be my grave; and perhaps at some future day she may revisit this sunny clime, and remember the heart that beat and broke for her."

Melburn saw that it was useless to contend for the present against the morbid melancholy which seemed to have settled upon the spirit of the painter, and he began to converse upon lighter themes. All proved powerless to win him from his gloomy abstraction; at length rousing himself as if from a dreamy reverie, he said, "Happiness is attained by some; you are happy, Melburn.”

"Yes, Giovanni, I am happy; but I do not look for an unchequered path in this world. I know that cares, anxieties, and afflictions fall sooner or later to the lot of all; and I would be prepared to lose the blessings I enjoy by not loving them too well. A just balance in which to weigh the objects of fluctuating desire is necessary to our forming just views of their value; and will prevent our giving undue preponderance to those which are secondary or trivial in themselves. We are so apt to surround some wished for boon, while unattained, with vague anticipations of delight, which the possession too often fails to realize."

"That is true, Melburn; but many a heart lives on hope that never enjoys fruition."

Melburn smiled as he answered, " In gazing upon the forbidden garden that crowns some lofty hill inaccessible to us, we may forget the fruits and flowers that are lying in profusion at our feet, untasted, unappreciated. Is it not so, Giovanni?"

"I mean the hopes that stand out in bold relief, wearing the hues of immortality; I mean the undying yearnings of the loving heart, the glorious aspirations of the godlike mind. Nothing short of fruition in these can satisfy a nature such as mine."

"Then, Giovanni, your hope must cast its anchor in the deep profound' of another world-it must seek its fruition in the Eternal. You may as well search for coral in the bowels of the earth, or for gold in the bosom of the sea, as to seek a restingplace for the immortal spirit in the regions of mortality. I am not a religionist-I am not the bigoted follower of any creed; but in the exalted aspirations of our nature, I recognize the immaterial principle. that will hereafter assimilate us to God. It instills a perception of the beautiful, a yearning for the good, an appreciation of the true, that cannot be realized in this imperfect state of existence. Looking abroad upon the stupendous universe, I see every thing fulfilling its destined end. Surely, these heavenborn aspirations will not be quenched in the forgetfulness of the grave, but, disencumbered of their material elements, will find their completeness and felicity in the source from which they sprung. Would to God, my friend, that you could feel as deeply as I do, how infinitely the interests of our future destiny transcend those of our present state of being."

"I have reflected, Melburn, upon our frequent conversations, and I feel, that had my mind been trained as yours has been, I should not be the creature of wayward impulse that I am. My temperament is an unhappy one-a temperament that might induce insanity, should my life be spared.

THIS beautiful duck is valuable on account of the excellence of its flesh, though its expertness as a diver renders it difficult to be shot. Its flight is very rapid, its note like that of the Mallard, but louder; it is fond of salines and ponds overgrown with reeds and rushes; feeds chiefly in the morning and evening. The Gadwall is still smaller than the Shoveller. The male bird is in length about nineteen inches, in breadth about thirty-three; the bill two inches long, flat, and of a black color; markings of the plumage exceedingly minute, giving it a sort of appearance as if it were marked with delicate stripe and enclosed in a net work. The crown is dusky brown, rest of the upper half of the neck

brownish white, both thickly speckled with black lower part of the neck and breast dusky black, elegantly ornamented with large, concentric semicircles of white scapulars, waved with lines of white on a dusky ground; primaries ash; greater wing coverts black, and several of the lesser coverts, immediately above, chestnut red; speculum white, bordered below with black, forming three broad bands on the wing, of chestnut, black and white; belly dull white; rump and tail coverts black, glossed with green; tail tapering, pointed, of a pale brown ash, edged with white; flanks dull white, elegantly waved; tertials long, and of a pale brown; legs orange red.