JEALOUSY, OR LA BELLE FIANCEE.

(Concluded from No. 26.)

Overwhelmed with misery herself, the Countess endeavoured to prepare the wretched father for the shock that must come. At last she broke the awful, tidings and by degrees he learnt all. He heard her out in silence, and then repaired to his daughter's chamber. He leant over her with distracted looks, calling her name and caressing her by turns; but she was insensible to all affection and terms of endearment. His eyes filled with tears, and, unable to controul himself, he rushed from the room in speechless agony.

"How did Leo die?" asked the Countess, mournfully.

Lord Glanmire silently took from his pocket a newspaper, and, handing it to her, pointed to a paragraph which ran thus :—

own fertile fancy. He adored Lady Fora, yet
he doubted her; her manner deceived him;
he did and he did not believe she loved him;
he mistook her mirthfulness and buoyancy of
spirit for a light-heartedness that could care
for nobody. He was so proud, he would not
for the world let her see that he was jealous, and
she never knew it she never thought it.
never crossed her mind that his noble nature could
harbour so mean a passion; yet he was in reality
the most self-torturing of all human beings, for his
wayward nature was ever at war with his best
affections.

man.

It

At the time he first wooed the Lady Flora, her father was a very poor though very proud nobleWith the upright spirit of true nobility, Lord Glanmire preferred the honorable alternative of living in retirement with his family at their old "AFFAIR OF HONOUR.-A duel was fought yes- castle in Ireland, to making a figure in the world terday morning at Wimbleton Common between of fashion on borrowed thousands. By an unexLord Evandale and the Hon. St. Ledger, which ter-pected mortality he had acquired within the last minated fatally. Mr. St. Ledger was shot through the heart, and expired instantaneously. The origin of the quarrel is not yet positively ascertained. Some say it arose in a political dispute; while others assert a fairer cause, in which a belle fiuncèe was concerned.' The Countess shook from head to foot as her eye went rapidly over these fatal lines. The paper fell from her trembling hand; she gasped for breath; her eyes closed; and, ere Lord Glanmire could come to her assistance, she had fallen from her chair insensible.

Until that moment the unhappy mother had not the remotest idea of the real cause of Lady Flora's hopeless condition. She now saw it all that newspaper had told its silent tale of horror. The orient pearl of her noble house was gone for ever; the pure and sunny heart of Lady Flora was broken.

The story of that heart is soon told. Lady Flora was the affian ced bride of Leo St. Ledger, one whose great wealth was his least attraction. In person he was singularly graceful and manly, somewhat above the middle height, slight but strongly built, and exquisitely proportioned, with a face whose expressiveness was ten thousand times more attractive and winning than all the animal beauty which mere regularity of feature ever produced. His fine head, a lá Brutus, was adorned with a profusion of dark, curling hair, shading a brow where manly thought and intellectual power held high dominion. His dark grey eyes, whether brightening with vivacity, beaming with love, or deepening with interest, were full of beauty; his smile was bland and engaging, and his exquisite voice persuasion's self!

"Gay, wealthy, and witty, accomplish'd and young, Made for conquest his form, for persuasion his tongue." But the noble qualities of his heart were superior to all these external graces: he was brave, manly, generous, honorable, and loving-hearted. Notwithstanding these perfections, Leo St. Ledger still had faults, and those were of a dangerous caste dangerous to his own happiness. He was to a passion jealous-he was to fury impetuous, whenever that jealousy was roused. It was a passion of the brain, not the heart, which his imagination kept for ever wide awake; for no real cause existed beyond the precincts of his

year a splendid fortune, which induced him all at once to change his comparatively obscure life for the brilliant career of fashion.

How man will carve out misery for himself! Leo St. Ledger was glad at all this, solely because it gave him an opportunity as he thought-of proving the strength of Lady Flora's attachment to himself. He postponed their marriage, and requested that their engagement should be kept secret as it was sacred. He was anxious she should pass a season in London previous to their uniona season of trial to challenge her affection, well knowing she would become an object of great attraction, and, consequently, of pursuit; and if she passed that ordeal, she would be worthy of the boundless love he bore her.

The lovers parted-Lady Flora to shine in the London world, while Leo St. Ledger remained in Ireland, nursing his sensitive love, and brooding over a morbid jealousy. One month passed; a second was on the wane; meantime their correspondence was frequent, full of tenderness on his part, while her letters breathed all the virgin delicacy of expression, mingled with pure affection, which makes so dear to man the love of woman.

Notwithstanding the vivacity of her manners, Lady Flora's heart was a mine of tenderness and feeling. Her intense affection for Leo lay hushed as it were under a lively exterior, like a shining river, which is not the less deep for its silver surface. His love was the bright star of her young existence-it was light to her life! and she was so happy in the possession of that love, she thought the world in which he lived a paradise! and looked upon everything in it with a sunny eye.

Alas! she did not know her lover well-she did not know his real nature or she would have been more chary of her smiles. The monster jealousy, which had been but sleeping in the breast of Leo, now suddenly awoke, and was roused to madness by the florid and exaggerated accounts of Lady Flora's innumerable conquests. Her success in society-the sensation she produced at court-the number and rank of her adorers-the names and titles of the favoured few from amongst whom she was likely to choose a husband were sung forth by the newspapers as if to thwart him. He could no longer bear all this; he became jealous-this

jealousy soon reached a fearful height, and his | inconsistency was now out of all reason. He resolved upon going at once to London, to follow and watch her, and see with his own eyes what effect all this homage had upon her heart.

Accordingly he set off for London privately, and arrived there the evening of the Duke of D's fancy bail. He readily procured a card of invitation, and went disguised as a Jew. He there witnessed Lord Evandale's devotion to his own affianced one, and watched, with a jaundiced eye, the manifest pleasure with which Lady Flora received his lordship's attentions.

This fired Leo's jealousy beyond all bounds. He followed her to her carriage, and his was the sigh which broke upon her ear and made her shudder as she passed along leaning on the arm of another.

"I could look at Lord Evandale for ever!" were idle words, idly spoken, and innocently meant; yet they stung the heart of the only one who heard them uttered Leo St. Ledger. He did not wait to listen to the conclusion of the sentence, but hurried distractedly through the silent streets; his brain on fire his hands clenched-and desperation urging him wildly on to acts of madness, mischief, and revenge. He reached his hotel in a state of mind little short of phrenzy. He looked upon Lady Flora as lost to him for ever. By turns he raved, by turns he lamented. He would accuse her of infidelity, himself of folly, and Lord Evandale of treachery and presumption. He did not know how to think rightly, for his senses were absolutely lost in a whirlwind of passion.

Lord Evandale," cried he, distractedly, "is the destroyer of my hopes. I will have his life, or lose my own!"

Opportunity seldom fails to aid an evil cause. With a flushed cheek and flashing eye he met Lord Evandale next day. They belonged to the same club, and the impetuous Leo on entering the room sought him out. Instead of seeking an explanation, he rushed headlong into a political dis pute, as a pretext for insulting Lord Evandale in the most wanton manner and unequivocal terms, which the young nobleman resented with equal fire and impetuosity.

hope. Some hours swept by, and the feeble rays
of a sickly sun fell upon the cold corpse of her
who was, as it were but yesterday, the fairest,
brightest, purest, fondest, best. There lay hushed
that once loving heart, with all its deep affections—
closed those glorious eyes and laughing lips,
whose brightness and blandness were wont to vie
in giving expression to a face of the most winning
beauty. Thus early perished the matchless Lady
Flora the victim of intense feeling too strongly,
too suddenly, and too severely tried.
There she lay beautiful even in death, like
the pale primroses

That die unmarried ere they fade."

How awful is the chamber of death! its stillness, its gloom, its solemnity, its mystery!

It was night-Leo St. Ledger stood at the bedside of his affianced! What a scene was there! The room was hung with white; the small French bed upon which lay the departed was decorated with white roses and flowers, emblematic of the virgin purity of her whose fresh, young spirit had just fled to Him who gave it. On the floor, at the feet of the corpse, lay, stretched at full length, poor little Blanche, Lady Flora's waiting-woman and foster sister. She had sobbed herself to sleep; grief was in her heart, and though worn out with care, and overcome by watching, her rest was unquiet, broken every now and then by heavy sighs, low murmurings, and fitful startings. Since her young mistress died, the little lonely creature had not stirred from her bed-side ospoken. She prayed silently, and wept unceasr ingly; but no words came from her. The entire household were gone, and the house in charge of the undertakers; but Blanche was there.

Leo stood for several minutes like one entranced. He gazed wildly round with a bewil dered eye, as if unable to comprehend the full extent of his own misery. His glance fell and rested on the lifeless form of her he had so loved, so wronged, so ruined! A tide of overwhelming anguish rushed upon him-he gasped for breatha sickness of heart and hope came over himsensation of choking caught his throat he could hardly breathe; yet, in the midst of the horrors by which he was surrounded, and writhing under an agony of feeling insupportable, jealousy, that fatal passion of his nature, crept into his thoughts. "What!" cried he, with bitterness, "has Lord Evandale's death killed her ?"

At the sound of his voice, Blanche awoke: she started to her feet, rubbed her eyes, and seeing who it was, screamed violently, and became con

They met, and the public prints gave the sequel. To return to the couch of the dying Lady Flora. There lay the innocent cause of this fatal feud apparently senseless-the lustre fading from her eyes, and the hues of death stealing over her fine and delicate features. Her pulse was variable-now rapid, now feeble, now scarcely to be felt at all. Her breath came quick and short-vulsed with fear. again she did not seem to breathe. She did not utter a syllable, nor did she essay to speak; but short convulsive sighs the echoes of a broken heart-would ever and anon break from her. Medical skill was baffled; physicians could do no more; human aid was of no avail.

It was sad and mournful to behold Lord and Lady Glanmire bending over this, their favourite child, in mute despair, watching with fearful anxiety every change which the icy finger of death was rapidly producing. The day waned and passedthe night came and went-the cold, grey dawn of morning threw its misty light into the chamber of the dying girl, but brought with it no shadow of

"Silence, girl!" cried he, seizing her arm, and dragging her towards him; "silence! have done with your screaming! and tell me what has caused this desolation?"

The poor girl, trembling with terror, gasped out in reply-"'Twas-your-death—sir !” My death! what do you mean? Don't you know me ?"

66

"The newspaper-the newspaper, which cannot be loosened from my lady's grasp, will tell you allcannot—”

I

He let go his hold, and the poor frightened creature fell insensible on the floor at his feet. Leo uncovered his head reverently, and kneeling

BAZAARS IN CONSTANTINOPLE. One of the chief objects of interest in this great metropolis is the bazaars, which consist of extensive ranges of stalls, all open in front, and under cover of a common roof. Separate lines, or streets, are allotted to the respective trades. Thus, in one part, shoemakers, sitting in two opposite rows, expose for sale all kinds of Turkish slippers, of various colours, some ornamented with silk, others brocaded with gold: in another, a number of venerable old men are seen, with spectacles on their noses, pondering over the Koran, or a horoscope, the one conveying to them as many ideas as the other; for, probably, they understand neither; these are booksellers, whose piles exhibit sundry beautifully-illuminated manuscripts in Persian, Arabic, and Turkish, for which they demand enormous prices. We asked for a Koran, but they refused to allow a giaour" (an infidel) even to look at one. It is by no means, however, impossible to obtain a copy of the Mohammedan sacred volume, as a Turkish servant will convey it to a private house for inspection, with the secret concurrence of the bookseller, whose conscience will be satisfied, since he does not place it in the hands of an unbeliever. The objection of the Turks to submit the Koran to the perusal of others is a proof, even if history were silent, that their faith was never indebted, for its extension, to reason or per

suasion.

The drug bazaar presents a curious assortment of eastern specifics and cosmetics, of which the principal are the rhubarb, henna, and orpiment. Henna is an orange-coloured powder, used by the females of the country to dye the tips of their nails and fingers; orpiment is a sulphuret of arsenic, which they value as a depilatory, forming it into a paste with lime, and applying it to the upper lip to remove superfluous hairs.

One portion of the bazaar, said to be the richest quarter of the whole, is appropriated to arms. Here, sparkling with brilliants, or devoured by rust, may be seen the long Turkish sword, the Greek yataghan, and the Italian stiletto, ranged side by side with the Tartan matchlock, and the Persian bow.

The jewellers, of course, have a row of stalls; but their assortment is a poor one. A few pair of ear-rings, and other small trinkets, are exhibited in glass-cases, to be sold by weight at moderated prices; but if the purchaser would see valuables, which are not the less abundant because not displayed, he must retire to the dealer's private residence, where precious stones and diamonds will be exhibited to him in

surprising profusion. The reason for concealing these under such a government as that of Turkey, is obvious to produce them in public would ensure the loss of property, perhaps of life.

One entire street is filled with saddles and harness : the former are covered with cloth, and furnished with a high knob in front, like those in Crimea; the latter is rude in texture, and simple in contrivance, but adorned with a profusion of gold and silver wirework, representing the sultan's cipher, or the arms of the city.

Another street contains shops for the manufacture and sale of the chibouque, and its component parts, the mouth-piece, stick, and tobacco-holder. The last is formed of red earth, and shaped like the bowl of the common English pipe, but somewhat larger ; the sticks are about five feet in length, of cherry or jessamine wood; the straightest and best bear a high price: but the luxury of the moslim is chiefly manifested in his mouth-piece, made of amber, the beauty of which consists in its paleness and opacity. The price of a chibouque knows no limit, as it may be set with diamonds and other precious stones to any extent. Rev. C. R. Elliot.

TULIPS. The tulip, so named, it is said, from a Turkish word, signifying a turban, was introduced into western Europe about the middle of the sixteenth century. Conrad Gesner, who claims the merit of having brought it into repute, little dreaming of the extraordinary commotion it was to make in the world, says that he first saw it in the year 1559, in a garden at Augsburg, belonging to the learned counsellor Herwart, a man very famous in his day for his collection of rare exotics. The bulbs were sent to this gentleman by a friend at Constantinople, where the flower had long been a favourite. In the course of ten or eleven years after this period, tulips were much sought after by the wealthy, especially in Holland and Germany. Rich people at Amsterdam sent for the bulbs direct to Constantinople, and paid the most extravagant prices for them. The first roots planted in England were brought from Vienna in 1600. Until the year 1634, the tulip annually increased in reputation, until it was deemed a proof of bad taste in any man of fortune to be without a collection of them. A trader at Harlaem was known to pay one half of his fortune for a single root, not with the design of selling it again at a profit, but to keep in his own conservatory for the admiration of his acquaintance. The demand for tulips of a rare species increased so much in the year 1636, that regular marts for their sale were established on the Stock Exchange of Amsterdam, in Rotterdam, Harldam, Leyden, Alkmar Hoorn, and other towns. Nobles, citizens, maid-servants, even chimney-sweeps and old clotheswomen, dabbled in tulips. People of all grades converted their property into cash, and invested it in flowers. Houses and lands were offered for sale at ruinously low prices, or assigned in payment of bargains made at the tulip mart. At last, however, the more prudent began to see that this folly could not last for ever. Rich people no longer bought the flowers to keep them in their gardens, but to sell them again, at cent. per cent. profit. It was seen that somebody must lose fearfully in the end. Hundreds, who, a few months previously, had begun to doubt that there was such a thing as poverty in the land, suddenly found themselves the possessors of a few bulbs which nobody would buy, even though they offered them at one quarter the sums they had paid for them. Many who, for a brief season, had emerged from the humbler walks of life, were cast back into their original obscurity. Substantial merchants were reduced almost to beggary, and many a representative of a noble line saw the fortunes of his house ruined beyond redemption.-Mackay.

BATHING. This, when judiciously employed, has a healthful tendency to determine to the surface, and to equalise the circulation. Under ordinary circumstances the shock of a sudden plunge into cold water excites so great a reaction, that, with the aid of mmediate friction, the capillaries are vigorously stimulated, which is evinced by the glow of health felt through the whole frame-a certain indication, when felt, that the measure is a salutary one. however, the cold bath be continued in too long, or if it be used at all in an enfeebled state of the constitution, so that no sufficient reaction take place, or even none at all, it is impossible to adopt a more useless and iujurious expedient. A complete and prolonged depression of the powers of life may be the consequence, and even life itself has been lost in this

way.

If,

Under such circumstances, the warm and relax the skin and determine to the surface, may be vapour baths, which have an immediate tendency to beneficially resorted to, if their temperature be not raised too high. But great care must be taken as to exposure to cold after their use. Some persons, however, are less disposed to take cold after a warm bath than before.