AU6. 17 
THE RURAL JJEW-YORKER. 
,521 
Ittratrg UlisttKani], 
GROWING OLD GRACEFULLY. 
Softly, oh! softly, I ho years have swept by thee, 
Touching thee lightly with tenderest care; 
Sorrow and care did they often bring m^b thee; 
Yet they have left thee but beauty to wear. 
Growing old tfracefully. 
Gracefully fair. 
Far from the storms that are lush ini? the ocean; 
Nearer each day to the pleasant home light; 
Far from the waves that are hi)? with commotion. 
Under full sail and the harbor in sig-ht! 
Growing old cheerfully,', 
Cheorfuland bright. 
Past all the winds that were adverse and chilling; 
Past all the islands that lured thee to rest! 
Past all the currents that wooed thee unwilling, 
Growing old peacefully; 
Peaeiilully and blest. 
Never a feeling of envy or sorrow. 
Where the bright laoeB of children are seen; 
Never a year from their youth wouldst tbou borrow, 
Thou dost remember what lieth between. 
Growing old willingly; 
Gladly. I weeu! 
Rieh in experience that, angels might covet; 
Rich in a faith that has grown with thy years; 
Rich in the love that grew from and above it; 
Soothing thy sorrows and hushing thy fears. 
Growing old wealthily; 
Loving and dear. 
Hearts at the sound of thy coining are lightened. 
Ready and willing thy hand to receive; 
Many a face at thy kind words has brightened, 
" It is more blessed to give thun receive!” 
Growing old happily; 
Blest, we believe. 
[Ghristian Globe. 
--♦♦♦- 
EUPHROSYNE: 
AN OLD TALE OF THE NEW WORLD. 
CHAPTER I. 
It was a bright October evening In the year 
1690, when a group of officers stood upon the top¬ 
most point ot Cape Diamond, the lofty citadel of 
Quebec, clustered rouud the flag-staff, from 
whose summfl floated proudly the national ban¬ 
ner of France. The last rays of the setting sun 
klsted Its silken folds as they streamed out upon 
the brjuzr, waving doflauce to the invaders who 
threatened to pluck It from the rock on which, 
nearly a century berore, It had been planted by 
the adventurous Champlain. 
Over the beautiful landscape, viewed from the 
pinnacle or that rock:, hung the blue dome of 
heaven, pure aad cloudless; while the horizon 
burning with gorgeous hues of purple and gold, 
shed a glory over the scene, such as Is never wit¬ 
nessed In milder latitudes. The heads ot the dis¬ 
tant mountains that guard, like giant-sentinels, 
the lovely valley or St. Charles, were already 
crowned with the early-railing snows of Canada; 
and the Isle of Orleans gleamed, In the distance, 
like some brilliant gem on the bosom of the broad 
St. Lawreuce. 
Opposite the frowning bight, bristling with 
cannon, lay the precipitous shores of Point Levi, 
rising abruptly from the noble bay of Quebec, 
and terminating In a wooded promontory. Here 
and there, perched like an eagle’s eyrie, on Its 
craggy ledges, appeared the white-washed walls 
or the peasant,’a cottage gleaming through the 
roltage; while Its swelling hills, and the un¬ 
dulating surface or its many-colored woods rest¬ 
ing against the vivid background or the sky, gave 
to that point or land a pleturesqueness of effect 
far surpassing that ot the most flulshed produc¬ 
tions or art. 
Hut not to the eye alone dlu this ministry of 
beauty make Its appeal: the air was rull of har¬ 
monies—the whispering of leaves, the vesper- 
songs of birds, the humming of the Insect tribes, 
aud of odors, wafted Horn every woody dlDgle 
where the wlld-flowers still brightened the rad- 
Ing earth with their beauty, while, mingled with 
these fainter perfumes, came the rich fragrance 
or exotics trom the stately gardens of the castle, 
In whose gay parterres still lingered the rarer 
flowers ot European climes—the rose of Provence, 
the •* Frenchman’s darling ” mignonette, and the 
balmy violets of England. 
But, if the heavens above were glorious la their 
calm beauty, and tbe earth beneath peacefully 
radiant as a poet’s dream, there were sounds 
abroad, marring with their dissonance the har¬ 
monies of nature. The tramp ot soldiers, the 
rattling of arms, the hurrying to and fro of ex¬ 
cited men jarred harshly on the silence of the 
night; while over all this was cast the spell of 
music from the military band, which played 
before tbe castle or St. Louis the national airs of 
France. 
But, the group of officers who la the deepening 
twilight, stlLl remained standing on the summit 
of the citadel, looked not now with admiring 
eyes upon the scene. Danger menaced them 
eveu in their strougbold; nay, they gazed upon 
Its very presence; aud In t,Ue whole glowing 
landscape they saw but one object ol interest—a 
hostile fleet, far trom contemptible In force, lying 
in tbelr own majestic river, under the walls of 
their city, its white canvass bellying In the breeze 
aud the ensign of England streaming from the 
mast-head ot the admiral’s vessel. 
The expedition had been rilled out by the 
British colonists or Massachusetts, and intrusted 
to the command or sir VVUUam Pblpps, a mau 
whom humble birth had not. prevented from 
rising to the highest posts of power and honor, 
and whose talents and virtues had won the 
favor and confidence of his sovereign. 
Previous to the appearance of the gallant little 
armament before the walls of Quebec, It bad al¬ 
most without opposition, captured several French 
posts on the shores of Newfoundland and the 
lower St. Lawrence, and had actually, arrived at 
Taloussac, on the Saguenay, before any tidings 
of the impending danger reached the Canadian 
capital. Rumors, it Is true, were rife concern¬ 
ing Its approach ; and parties of observation had 
been sent out by Its vigilant, governor, Comte de 
Frontenac, and canoe3 despatched to seek for 
some ships laden with supplies, which were 
dally expected from France—tbelr safa arrival 
In tbe event of a siege, being all-important to 
tbe garrison. 
Defensive preparations had also been made, 
and were still going on, by order of M. de Fron- 
tenao, with unrelaxed vigor; lor, although 
strong In natural defences, there was still need to 
strengthen Its rocky bulwarks against insidious 
assault, and to derend by arUflclal barriers, those 
weak points which, In the lower parts ot the 
city, were accessible from the river. But the 
lofty crest of Cape Diamond was not at, that t ime 
crowned with works of solid masonry, although 
the present structure had eveu then been com¬ 
menced, and from Its northern angle there ex¬ 
panded an Irregular line of bastions, crossing 
the promontory to the banks ot t he St. Charles. 
The citadel, at that period, was a quadrangular 
fort, with fl mking defences at each corner, pro¬ 
tected by a wall on the Inner side; while some 
rude Hold-works, with redoubts, strengthened 
the front towards the Plains of Abraham. The 
lower town, too, had Its battery; and the narrow 
precipitous passages ascending from It to the 
upper part, of the city, were protected by loop- 
holed walls, lntrenchments, and rows of c hmaux- 
ae.-rrm. 
Speculating upon the audacity which brought 
this British armament before the walls of their 
city, the knot of officers we have meniloned re¬ 
mained upon the bight till only the white 
shrouds aud gleaming lights of the hostile ves¬ 
sels were discernible through the gathering dark¬ 
ness; and then one after another departed till 
only two remained, leaning against tbe broad 
flag-staff, and gazing down upon the Illuminated 
windows of the castle. Suddenly a rich strain ot 
music swelled upward from the balcony, when 
turning to bis compaulou, the elder of the two 
yonng men said, with a gay smile: 
“Light and music wherever her presence 
beams, Louis! is It not so? Come, let us leave 
this breezy bight; and though with some of us, 
perchance, It may bo our last, night ot life, It will 
be well to spend It where we may have a fore¬ 
taste of the heaven that Is to follow.” 
“ Your tight tone, Gaston, Is In ill-keeping with 
ray graver mood," answered the other with a ges¬ 
ture of impatience; “ yet go, and bask In the ra¬ 
diance ot her beauty; but-” 
“ And wherefore hut,, SL, Ours ?” Interrupted 
his friend. “What means that settled gloom, 
that desponding tone, whenever Madame do 
Lavasseur Is our theme?—sho whom I know you 
love—and not In vain, If there Is aught beside 
outward seeming In her smiles. In the conscious 
blush when you approach, in the tones of liquid 
sweetness from her lips—and such Ups! Cupid 
be merciful 1 The honey of rrybla was vinegar to 
the dew that bathes those living rosea!” 
SL Ours sighed deeply, and was silent,. He bad 
not even a smile for the absurd rhapsody of bis 
friend: In truth, he was struggling hard to sub¬ 
due the emotlou that well-nigh mastered him; 
but with all his efforts, he could not conceal it 
from the observation of D Esperon, who, unable 
to divine the secret cause which never failed to 
arouse it, In connection With Madame de Lavas- 
sour’a name, exclaimed with an Impetuosity 
which formed a part of his frank and generous 
nature: 
“ In the name of all the saints, Louis SL Ours, 
explain to mo the mystery which drives you to 
despair, when love and duty stand ready, amidst 
a score ot hapless aspirants, to crown you with 
triumph! Montres, D’Aublngy, De Lorme—would 
they not barter all their hopes of fame In these 
northern wars, tor one little token of that favor 
which the fair Eupbrosyne showers, without 
s!lnt or measure, upon you ?” 
“ Ah, that ts It, D’Esperou! 11 she looked upon 
me coldly, l could bear to suffer ; but It ts cruel 
destiny to know the treasure mL'hr, be mine, 
were 1 permitted to possess it; and this It Is 
which must explulu to you the secret ot that un- 
happiness whose manifestations have so often 
awakened your sympathy and wonder.” 
“ 1 do not comprehend you, Louis. Why Is It 
that t he treasure won, may not be possessed ?— 
that, in the very presence ot this adored Eu- 
phrosyne, t mark your cheek grow pale, your 
brow become clouded, and see you steal away 
even from the smiles which are your life, to dark¬ 
ness and solitude.” 
“ Forgive me, Gaston,” said St. Ours; “ I know 
I must have tried your patience sadly; but till 
tbe cevtaluty was forced upon me that, unworthy 
as 1 am, I held the happiness of another In my 
keeping, 1 resolved to bury deep In my own breast, 
a secret which Is the haunting skeleton of my 
lire. But Jrom you r will no longer have any cou- 
cealmenL l have no formal history t,o relate, 
and only a few brief words to utter, but they are 
pregnant with fatal meaning, aM you will believe 
when I tell you—I am married!’’ 
“MarriedI” exclaimed D’Esperon In half-lndlg- 
nant astonishment. “Can 1 believe you, when 
no word of this has ever passed your lips?—not 
even to me, your comrade in arms, your brother 
In affection, your friend and contldant--as I 
thought—In every joy and sorrow, since Urat we 
knew each other, years and years ago t" 
“ Eveu so, Gaston, for I trained my thoughts 
never to dwell upon the odious theme, or rather, 
l should say, Indifferent to the ties that bound 
mo, 1 scarcely realized their existence till the 
bright vision of Eupbrosyne appeared, and awoke 
me to the bitter consciousness of my thraldom." 
“But how and when was this fatal marriage 
contracted; and to whom, In the name ot Heaven, 
are you sacrificed ?" 
“These, briefly, are the circumstances of the 
case :—My father and the Count de Lancey were 
bosom-friends from my boyhood, and In the ardor 
of their romantic attachment, they vowed to each 
other that, should they in after-years become 
parents, their Urst-boin children, If of different 
sexes, should cement by marriage the union of 
the families. My father Inherited a proud name 
with fallen fortunes; while the Count de Lancey, 
less illustrious by birth, was the possessor of Im¬ 
mense wealth, so that the friends each derived 
Ills own advantage from the compact; and when, 
in the course of time, they became parents, the 
little girl and myself were taught, among the 
llrst lessons of our childhood, to regard each 
other as future husband and wife. Still, had the 
union beeu delayed till we arrived at maturity, it 
would perhaps have never taken place; but, un¬ 
fortunately, tue sudden illness of tbe count has- 
tened ILs consummation. An lujury received in 
the chase was pronounced ratal by his physicians; 
and when lufonned of his danger, he desired that 
myself and father should Instantly be summoned. 
We resided In a distant province, but we set out 
Immediately on receiving the tidings, and travel¬ 
ed night and day. We arrived In time to see him 
alive, and though near his end, his faculties re¬ 
mained singularly Clear. He expressed his satis¬ 
faction at my father’s prompt compliance with 
his wishes, reminded him or their compact, and 
signified bis desire t,o see the marriage solemn¬ 
ized between bis daughter and myself before he 
breathed his last; “ Otherwise,” he said, “ he 
must leave her In the power of those who would 
differently shape her destiny; and the dearest 
wish of bis heart was to bestow her and her 
wealth, with his own hand, upon the son of hLs 
earliest and truest friend.” 
“ It was a strange proposal, children as we both 
were—the glrMirlde being but twelve years old, 
and I only three years her senior. But absorbed In 
grief for her father, she had no other will than 
hla; and to me, who had always looked upon the 
union as a thing of course. It, was a matter of per¬ 
fect Indifference whether It took place then and 
there, or was postponed for half-a-dozen years. 
And so wo were married by the count’s confessor, 
who was present with a lay-brother from a neigh¬ 
boring convent. Strangers to each other, we 
were united In Indissoluble bonds—Indifferent to 
the present, and regardless of the future, which 
by that act was rendered to one ot us at least, 
dark and joyless for ever. 
“ But a secret presentiment of coming woe crept 
over me when T found tuy fate irrevocably fixed— 
a deep aversion to my child-wife tilled my heart; 
but, as by the marriage stipulations, I was not to 
claim her till she had completed her sixteenth 
year, I rejoiced in the reprieve, and gave all anx¬ 
ious thought ou the subject to the winds. 
“ I saw her but once after we parted at the 
altar, and then. In compliance with my father’s 
wishes, I accompanied him to the convent where 
she was placed to complete her education. She 
replied to my distant greeting with averted looks, 
and I fancied that 1 Inspired her with uncontrol- 
able disgust. This conviction strengthened my 
repugnance to her; lor, young as 1 was, I had a 
keensenBeof the b autlful In woman; and when I 
looked al her undeveloped figure, her thin child¬ 
ish face, and large meaningless eyes, I passed 
gladly from her presence, hoplog, almost resolv¬ 
ing, never to enter It again.” 
“And you have never seen her since?” ques¬ 
tioned D’Esperon. 
“Never! Two years subsequently, my father 
died; and having entered upon a military life, 1 
was sent upon foreign service, and remained 
abroad till recalled by the appointment which 
tranforred me to this Western world In the suite 
of the Comte do Frontenac.” 
“ And your wife v” asked D’Esperon. 
" I am ignorant, or everything that concerns 
her,” said SL Ours. “At various Intervals, I 
heard that sho always spoke with bitterness of 
bor early marriage, denouncing it as the misfor¬ 
tune oi her life; and this settled hate on her 
part fortified me In my resolution never to 
trouble her with a husband’s claim, nor ever to 
Intrude my unwolcome presence upon her. For 
aught 1 know, she may now be a veiled nun In 
the convent where l left her; but this Is not 
probable. 1 only wish it were; and then 1 should 
be absolved from the vow I made my rather 
on his death-hod — never voluntarily to break 
the tie which binds me to the daughter of his 
friend.” 
“ It Is Indeed a forlorn hope, 1 fear," said D’Es¬ 
perou. “ Had such an event taken place, you 
would have heard through a hundred channels 
bofore now.” 
“ True; It does not offer even a straw to the 
drowning man’s grasp, and I have only to boar 
my doom with such patience as 1 can; and It 
would have been an easy ta8k, this quiet sub¬ 
mission to an lrou destiny, had my heart re¬ 
mained untouched by another. But to long with 
all the ardor of passion, to know myself beloved 
by the most enchanting of women—Oh it Is often 
more than manhood can endure !” 
“ But this child to whom you were wedded, SL 
Ours, has, with th* lapse of years, become a 
woman. How know you that, she has not blos¬ 
somed Into an angel, who would till your whole 
soul with the ecstatic sense oi her loveliness ?” 
“ It could uotbe. You would not think so had 
you seen her. Be&lde, she Is not Eupbrosyne, and 
so could win no love of mine. Still, though 1 
have wished to be forgotten by her—to be thought 
of, It remembered at all, as one dead—should she 
demand of me the protection of a husband, 1 
would yield It, In fulfilment of my vow made to 
her, and of the promise to my father on hLs dy¬ 
ing bed, never to rupture my marrlage-tte. But 
I have little fear that, she will chum trom me any 
frigid duty, and l gladly interpret her unbroken 
silence Into a repugnance as unconquerable as 
my own." 
Louis drew his cloak around him as he ceased 
speaking, for the night air blow chill and damp 
from the river, and leaning against tue flag¬ 
staff, remained for a rew minutes lost In silent 
thought; then suddenly addressing his friend, 
he said with emotion: 
“ This Is her hlrth-nlght, Gaston, and we but 111 
honor It by loitering here. Let us go and mingle 1 
with the crowd of her worshippers, it may be, as9 
you say, for the last time; hut the brief hours oil 
life which, perchance, remain for some of us, I all 
least would wing with brighteous such as heifl 
presence only can bestow.” ^ 
Arm In arm, the two friends descended from • 
the rock, and bent their steps toward the castle,i 
from whence came the sounds of uiuslo andll 
laughter, sickening to the aching heart of Hi,.! 
ours, but, exhilarat ing to the light spirits of his 
companion, who with quickened steps, pressed 
on, eager to share the revelry so congenial to his 
buoyant nature. They entered the vestibule; 
aud D’Esperon naa bounded half-way up tbe 
broad Illuminated staircase, when he paused to 
look back for bis raor I ,irdy companion, who was 
slowly ascouiung step by step, his line face still 
bearing tbe overshadowing trace of bis recent 
emotion. 
“Courage, Louis! courage and hope Remem¬ 
ber your family motto, ami wear your heart as 1 
bravely as you do your sword,” said D’Esperon, | 
gaily. 
St. Ours answered bis frleud’s sally by a faint | 
smile ; and springing up to the landing on which 
he stood, they passed on together to the grand 
saloon, crowded, on this the birth-night of the 
governor’s favorite ulece, tbe Madame de Lavas¬ 
seur, with a brilliant assemblage of the most 
distinguished residents, civil and military, or the 
place. 
M. de Frontenac.would not permit, the threaten¬ 
ing aspect of public affairs to Interfere with the ar¬ 
rangements made tor the occasion; and the fes¬ 
tivities at the castle presented a scene of mag¬ 
nificence which would have been In better keep¬ 
ing with an eve of festal victory, than with one 
which wa3 probably to precede tbe deadly en¬ 
counter of enemies. 
Yet who could think of Impending danger, in 
the midst ot so much gaiety, and In the presence 
of the night’s radiant queen, the charming Eu- 
phrosyne, the cynosure of all eyes, ecllpslog, by 
her sweet simplicity, her exquisite grace, aud a 
beauty more touching eveu than it was dazzling, 
the showy women who, In the Imposing splendor 
oi’ rich robes and Jewels of countless value, lent 
eclat to the soeue! She moved among the glitter¬ 
ing throng, beautiful in her unadorned simplicity, 
a tew natural flowers wreathed among the rich 
folds of her shining hair, and arrayed in robes ot 
the purest white; for her weeds, It she had ever 
worn them tor a husband who possessed not her 
affections, were long ago cast aside; and on this 
her twentieth blrtb-nlght, she resembled rather 
a youthiui bride than a widow. 
With a calm step but a throbbing heart, Louis 
St. Ours passed through the brilliant crowd. Not 
daring by one furtive glance to single out the ob¬ 
ject who filled his every thought, he made his 
way to the upper end of t.lie saloon, where, sur¬ 
rounded by a group of officers, M. de Frontenac 
stood discussing the great topic of interest—the 
arrival of the hostile fleet In their waters. 
St. Ours was beeouuug an atteutlve auditor to 
Che circle, when, by a sudden evolution of the 
dancers, he caught, a glimpse of Eupbrosyne; 
then her sweet silver laugh rung upon his ear; 
aud forgetting all things else In the thought ot 
her, he drank eagerly In the low musical roues of 
her voice, as they came to him mingled with the 
general hum, yet separated to his ear from all 
other sounds, her lightest tone penetrating like 
some divine harmony into .the secret recesses or 
his soul. 
She was dancing with tbe young Baron D’Au- 
blgny, an officer ot the governor’s household; and 
she moved with an airy grace that, scarcely suf¬ 
fered her buoyant step to touch the floor; wulle, 
In the pauses ot the figure, she conversed gaily 
with her partner, her animated race upturned to 
his with a beaming look that made St. Ours start. 
Was It possible, he asked himself, that the ten¬ 
der devotion so long manifested towards her by 
the baron, was at last awaking an answering 
feeling In her heart, and could it be this subtle 
magic which lilghtened even her marvelous 
beauty, and lent, to every gesture a diviner grace ? 
At this surmise, admitted only tor an instant, a 
jealous pang wrung bis be rt; but auother stolen 
glance reassured him, tor he met an answering 
look trom her sweet eyes—a look which he knew 
never came but from the hearL 
To some she might have seemed absorbed in the 
tender tale her handsome partner was whisper¬ 
ing In her ear; but Louis better understood her, 
and knew that tor iilin alone herllp w r as wreathed 
with smiles, and the light of love danced In her 
eyes. He could not resist her fasclnai ton, nay, he 
did not strive to do so, and he advanced a step, as 
If to approach her. She marked the gesture, and 
Instantly her whole race became radiant with 
pleasurable emotion. Uls heart bounded with 
passionate joy at tbe sight; and rebelling the 
cruel thought that she never could be bis, he 
murmured to himself: “ For r,his ulght, at least, 
which perhaps may be my last, l will bask In the 
sunshine of her smiles;” and the next moment 
saw him standing flushed with happiness at her 
side. 
The young baron drew back, mortified and of¬ 
fended, at the approach of St. Ours, assured, by 
the smile ot tender welcome with which the fair 
Eupbrosyne greeted his approach that he saw 
in him the rival destined to snatch away the 
treasure' he coveted. But, uuheeding his chagrin, 
Che lovers, rape In their dream of bliss, wandered 
away towards the open balcony, over which hung 
the cloudless moon, and where they found the 
silence which their spirits craved. 
High In air hung tim lotcy terrace where they 
stood, overlooking that part of the city called the 
lower town, its narrow precipitous streets wind¬ 
ing down hundreds of feel below tbe stately 
castle or 8L Louis. It was October, but the 
weather was soft and balmy as a night In June; 
and the rosslgnol, the Canadian nightingale, at 
Intervals broke forth Into song irom amid the 
thickets of lilac and acacia where he sat con- 
