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