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ffljc JtiiHirs' VOX.. 4. HASFERS-FESISY, VXRGS37SA, JiJME 1828. XSO. 52. FUBLUUKM EVERY «MTIUtH.AY EVENING, BY JOHN S. C.ALLAHER. TERMS.—One dollar ami fifty cents per annum, ! ■payable at the expiration of the first quarter, or , one dollar and twenty-fire cents, to be paid at the i tune ot subscribing. Payment in advance, from j distant subscribers who are not known to the pub-! Usher, will invariably be expected. Should pay-; merit be deferred to the end of the year, *2 will be required. TUB BS^OSSTOSY. FROM BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. BLANCHE D’ALBI. Blanche D Albi, at the time of her defease, nail been lor more than a twelve month resident an the. family ol Mr I, one of the wenldiiest merchant!) in the city ot London She had been engaged as French governess to his four little 1 daughters, w ho were also proi ided w ith an Fmg lish teacher, and attended hy half the masters id the metropolis. The young novice had been received on the most unexceptionable reoom 1 tnetidalion, as to character, connexions andele- | gant acquirements, but nothing more of her pri vate history was communicated, than that she j was the only daughter of a respectable Protest ant minister. 'Ihat the sudden death of Imth: hei parents, occurring within a few months of; each other, had iett her at the age of eighteen, a destitute orphan, deprived of the protection of i an only brother, who. previous (j the death of: their parents, had taken service in the Swiss ! corps ot De M'liron.and had accompanied that regiment to India So situated, Blanche i I) Albi bad recourse for her future maintenance j to the expedient so olten resorted to, pvpii un der happier circumstances, by numbers of our young country women in company vvitli several youn^ persons from j her own canton, embarked on tlie same enter- ! prize, and provided with such recommendations ; a- could he obtained to mercantile houses in j London, or to such of her own countrymen as I were already established there, Blanche bade adnu to her ‘own romantic land,’ami very shortly aitci h( r arrival in Kngland, it was her good fortune to be engaged in the family of Mr I. where her situation might with truth have been called almost enviable, compared with the general lot ot young persons in the same eir cnni-tanccs. Slit shared the school room, and tin task of educating four engaging spoiled children, wi'h an elderly Knglish governess, to whose domineering, hut not harsh temper, she willingly yielded supremacy, and was therefore treated hy Miss Crawford with somewhat of the indnlgt nt eonsidi ration she would have be stowed nil an rider pupil The little girls soon attached themselves fondly to their young in dulgent governess, and their affection soon nb fano d for her all the good will and unbending •kindness it was in the nature of Mrs I„ tocon ti r on any human being in a dependent situa tion Mr I,, a man ot cool and toimal manners, fiihy impressed with the sense of his own wealth and consiupienre. hut one whose better feeling* we.reo.it all saciificed .-t the show of Mammon, treated her with invariable and almost attentive politeness, during the stated intervals when, in attendance on her young charges, she was ;ul rnitted to his society. It is true he exchanged but few words with her. and those, appeared constrained, as if by the latent fear of compro raising his dignified importance; hut there was a gentleness in the tone of his voice when he addressed himself to the timid orphan, and a benevolence in his eyes, which earned with it to the young bereaved heart of Blanche D A1 bi, a far kindlier signif cation th u n s implied by the mere words of his unvaried formal saluta tion—• I hope, you are well to day, Ma mselle :’ Those were among her happiest moments when, encircled by her young attentive audito ry. she spoke to them—for to them she could speak of it—of her own native laud, of its high mountain-, the tops of which were white with snow m the hottest summer days ; of the seas of ice, with their hard frozen ridges; of its beauti ful clear lakes, on one of w hich she and her lit tie brother had been used to row the faily hark -—of the (. halots, when in their mountain ram bles. tiiey had been lea-ted on rural dainties by the hospitable peasants—of the hounding cha mois, and of tin ir daring hunters, among whom her brother Theodore, and a young friend of his, whom she called Horace, had been (ore most ; and then she told how, cnee returning from a long and venturous chase, the friends had brought her home a little w ounded chamois ; and the children, never tired ol bearing bow she had nursed and reared, and at last, with success alni''st unexampled, brought lo pet feet tameness, the wild creature of the mountain ; and how Horace Vaudreul (they had learned to speak his name, and that of Theodore, familiar ly ' had encircled its slender elegant neck with a small silver collar, on which was engraven, J apjmriitnsa Blanche—[I belong to Blanche.] Twice, since her residence hi the family of Mr. L. the monotonous existence of Blanche had been diversified tiy occurrences of unspeak able importance (o lier. Twice had she re ceived letters from India—voluminous letters, penned by more than one hand, though eon tained in the same envelope directed hv her brother She wept abundantly over the first of these packets—over her brother's letter, his reply to that in which she had communicated to him their mutual loss, and her own plans to seek an honorable subsistence as governess in some English family It is easy to conceive the deeply affecting purport of that fraternal an swer. Even from that tearful distance, the hearts of the orphans met and mingled. The tears of Theodore had blotted the lines, on which those of Blanche fell as she read, like summer rain drop—as free, as fast, and as kindly. lightening her heart of th- long pent up load of unpartieipated grief But Theodore s letter contained one written in a different hand writing, and though the tears of Blanche still fell as she perused those characters, they w ere the last drops of the showei, through which a sun ht am was already breaking Upon the con tents of that parket she might have been said to live for many weeks—forday after day her eyes fed upon them, fill one ol her little innorent observers asked, in a tune of artless simplicity, if she were not tired of trying to learn all that cbi^e long writing by heart, which had vexed her so much too, at the first reading? The second letters were as eagerly and | anxiously opened as lho former had been, lie.* ! these were read with glistening ryes onU. J while the rekindled light of gladness beamed on tin* ingenuous countenance of Blanche; ani. sometimes, in the midst of some twentieth re* perusal, as if her heart sought s\ mpathy in tie: i exuberance of its happiness, she would catch | up in her arms, arid half smother with playful • i kisses,one of the wondering children—as ready, however, at least to share the joy of their voting instructress, as to participate in her sorrows With those last letter.' came an ivory woik box an elegant oriental toy, lined with sandal wood and fitted up with many conipaitments, Cjid; containing some ingenious nick uack—some small ford of fairy workmanship fashioned for a lady's hand, or some exquisite essence in its llaeon of gilded glass. \\ hat delight it was to the inquisitive children to pry user and over again, into every drawer and compartment in this beautiful box ! And Blanche w^s tooswi rt tempered to refuse the often asked indulgence, only she. watched with jealous care list theii little busy fingers should unwittingly injure any pait of the delicate workmanship; and if Miss ('.rawford was present, she resisted with evident annoyance their importunities to be all .wed to take out of a i tinning secret drawer (which had 1 not long remained secret front them) two beau tilu I little pictures—‘so beautiful!' they salt!, and ‘ one so very like Ma’antsclle •’ That one washer brother's miniature; and when they asked her if she did not love him dearly ho sending her su it a tiiw present 5 Sh“. simlej and blushed, and simply answered, that she did indeed dearly love him The iiltlc girls wi rc not long in discovering, moreover, that the re turn of this dear In other had been announeeu m his last letter The regiment had been called to Kurupe, and lie vwuti on the eve of embark ation * * It so happened, that on the very evening when the heart of Blanche was oveiilowing with its secret hoarded gladness—Oh1 how long had that poor heart been a stranger to such blissful feelings! Mrs Ids circle was a large and gay one, and a proposal to foim quadrilles lieuig suddenly made, and as promptly acceded to, Mademoiselle was detained to take her patient sitting at the pianoforte. She had always as sented with willing sweetness to similar reqmsi tions, hut this evening she saf down to the in strunient with even joyous readiness, and the exuberance of iter happiness found expression iri such sprightly measures, that her flying fin gers soon out'tnpt the common time of the dan cors, ar.d many breathless calls for moderation were sent towards her from the scampering and despairing performers Then would she laugh anil blush, and shalie her head «n playful in S' If reproach at her own lawless pirfmmnrire. and fora while—a very little while—the rr-tless fingers were restra.nrd io lower movements. Once or twice she looked towards the dancers, as if with a vehement longing to spring up and mingle in their gav evolutions' hut those glan ces were momentary, and her eyes dropped again upon the ivory keys; but such a smiling and half exulting playfulness lurked about her mouth, as if she were anticipating some hour or future gladness, w hen she should join hands once more in the merry danee w ith t! e rorr.pa nionx of |u r youth, on the nrili - the fucie green sward of her own dear country What