LUCY CARROL.
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Beneath it's dark and foul eclipse'

 Lucy, my child,' said Mrs. Carol, do you know 1t is whispered that George Dur wood is forming habits of dissipation! I would not grievc you Lucy-yct. it is we'll to warn you of danger and when even Dur woods friends arc forced to acknowledge that he is altered, we have reason to fear that our ingenious and high minded friend is in- deed listening with a charmed ear to the yolce of that syren, the end of whose song is destruction. You have heard these reports, my child!'

 slight quiver came over the lip of the young girl-who stood silent before her moth- CT, as pale and certainly as beautiful as the most exquisite statue. Lifting her moisten- ed blue eye to her mother, while an unWOn- ted energy kindled it, she answered,

 Yes, mother, Durwood's enemies have not 1 been slow in coining such reports for my car, lknow-I have heard them all-but do not believe them.'

 Lucy-the innocent, the lovely, the conf ding Lucy, spoke but as she thought. In her, heart she could not believe that he whose nature was so noble, so generous-who evin- ced so many correct feelings and principles, and possessed in an eminent degree all man. | ly qualifications-she could not believe that he, by any possible temptation, could yield to the baleful insinuations of the destroyer, and degrade the dignity of manhood below the beasts that perish.

 And why was it, that amid the censures and harsh judgment of the world, the secret regret of friends, and open attacks of foes, Lucy shrined deeper in her heart the image of her lover! She loued hin,-and her heart enshrouded in the mantle of devotion, clung with increased tenacity to its object; and the light of affection shone warmer and I,.1.l o1 around her beloved.

 Constancy is striking and peculiarly beautiful trait in the character of woman and in love like Lucy's, there is surpassing strength. It has nothing gross nor earthly in its yearning, for its source is in the purest fountains of the heart. Alas for the sunless riches laid on the altar of love It is seldom worthy ofits offerings.

 But-I was present at that bridal for Lucy did become the wife of George Durwood. l marked the smile of conscious triumph and eXulting love, as before Gods altar he plight ed that deep VOW to be her husband, comtor- ter and protector forever. And she-the gentle being at his side-I saw her look ot trust and entire confidence when she gave her hand to him with whom she had chosen to tread life's crowded path watched that widowed mother, too, when she gave up her only darling to an untricd guardianship There was sorrow in the tones of her fond and fearful blessing on that fair young bride, who was thus in her tenderest years leaving the shelter and guidance of a mothers love forever. And heard too, the solemn in- junction she gave as she committed her pre- cious charge into other hands-that he should deal truly and kindly with her, as he hoped Gods blessing. I heard all, and l turned aside to conceal the tears, which were un- consciously creeping into my eyes. An ill omened melancholy came over me, but strove to banish it, for why should dim that fairy picture of happiness with my tears ! have said that Lucy Carroll became the wife of Durwood-and alas she became his victim also. The blight fell early on the rose, and the worm revelled amid it's leaves. We need not trace George Durwood on his erring path offolly and dissipation enough that he did bow down his high spirits at the unholy shrine of fintemperance.

 But Lucy-she who in the trusting earn estness of her pure heart had thrown all to the venture of his vow-she was made to feel the perishing of all that was bright, noble and elevated-it was hers to feel in its most refined bitterness the keen and whitening blight of disappointment when she looked on him she called her husband.

 Fora long time, Lucy's believing spirit sus- tained her under her heavy trial for one hope clung even as an anchor to her soul the hope that he would reform-for he loved her too we'll, she thought, to make her unhap- pV. Alas, deceived woman Love may be strong, but the love of the wine cup hath a mightier power. But the truth came at last. That which Lucy had thought it sin to think on, now stood before her, a lamentable and sure reality-her husband was an irreclaim- able drunkard!

 Lucy died early-but not before the last ray of hope was quenched in that stricken bosom, and a deathlike whitening had come over her heart-not until every beautiful flower of affection had dropped and withered away, and all her generous and devoted feel: ings had given place to loathing and indif: ference. Her last moments were unsoothed by the voice of a husbands affection-though at times, indeed, bloated visage, with hag- gard, expressionlcss eye, would bend over her couch and mutter words of inebriety and disgusting fondness but with look of ab- horrcnce she motioned him away who had once been her blessing and delight.

 Let woman--lovely, devoted, confiding wo- man-avoid the 'appearance of evil' Let her beware of the revel, the wine cup, the feast-for vice and intcmpcrance are ever found in the train. Let her remember that in uniting her destiny with a drunkard's she is drawing on herself dreadful doom, and incurring the heaviest curse of Heaven. It is like linking truth with perfidy, the dove with vulture it is the wedlock of purity and pollution-beauty and the pestilence.- Let woman beware ofthe Incorporate! "Want thome mable thugar," said little lisping urchin who dropped in yesterday with a basket full of maple sugar jimcracks.