tion. I know not one who would not rather die than accept it. I have been with a number of our friends this morning: we have collected funds together, to purchase a vessel; shall dispose of what property we can, and, to-night, embark for America. Collect together whatever you most value; let all of our household, who choose, accompany us, and be speedy; for, at the hour when the full moon rises over the eastern hills, we must depart hence, to return no more forever."

The wife and mother turned deadly pale, and almost fainted in the supporting arms of her husband; but, quickly recovering herself with a strong effort, the three proceeded to the house in silence,— the silence of a sorrow too deep for words, and too bitter for tears. Marianne returned directly to regain a book she valued; but, hearing the outer gate open, was hastening back in terror, when a familiar voice exclaimed, "Why do you fly, Marianne, from Philip your friend?"

me.

"Oh Philip! I was fearful it might be some cruel murderer! but you are a Catholic, and will not let them take our lives, will you, dear Philip! Ah! you cannot save us, and do not understand You have been studying in some secluded nook, unconscious that the machinations of your wicked priesthood have taken effect, and wrought such woe in our beloved land. You do not know how many are this day made wanderers upon the earth, how many homes are desolate, and how

many hearts broken. Look!" she exclaimed with passionate earnestness, laying one hand upon his shoulder, and pointing with the other to the declining sun; "that bright orb has already passed the meridian, and, when his burning beams are quenched in the ocean, we fly to a wilderness in search of that liberty which is denied us at home; and, from death by the hands of our countrymen, to meet a more terrible fate in those western wilds, - to die perhaps by the lingering torture of the tawny savage; but in thee, O Lord, will I put my trust; let me not be afraid! The day is waning speedily, and I gaze for the last time on the soft skies, the vine-clad hills, and sunny vales of France. Strange steps will desecrate this beauteous garden where I may no more linger with loved ones, by the fountain and the flowers; and strange voices will echo through the halls of my happy home. Oh Philip! may you ever be spared such heart-sickness, such terror and distress; but why do I stand here idle? let me say the bitter farewell, for I must prepare to depart."

Philip heard all this in silence; but the alternate paleness and flush of his cheek showed that he was far from being an unmoved listener. His agitation was so great as almost to deprive him of utterance; but a few passionate and incoherent expressions of love and regret escaped his lips, ere he left her to regain composure, with a promise to visit the vessel; and, though she warned him of the danger of

being found among them, he declared that he must see her again, if his life should be the forfeit.

Time tarried not. Their hasty preparations were finished, and they reached the quay at the appointed hour. Marianne sought Philip among the crowd with anxious eye; for, though conscious of the hazard of a meeting, she could not bear to think she had seen the playmate of her childhood, the friend of her early years, for the last time. He was soon by her side; but there was only time for a few brief sentences, a fervent blessing, and hasty adieu; and often afterwards did she recall the unutterable fondness of his parting look, and the melancholy of his hurried farewell. The vessel, which bore so many anguished hearts, bounded lightly over the waters, with a favoring breeze: the mouth of the river was soon gained, and the midnight moon shone down upon them far out on the blue Atlantic. Marianne kept her earnest eyes fixed on the receding shores, till her father came to lead her from the deck; and, turning to take one last and lingering look, she exclaimed, in the words of the unfortunate Mary, "Farewell, France! farewell, beloved country, which I shall never more behold!"

It will not be necessary to detail all the events of a voyage, during which Madame Bretoun was the greatest sufferer by a raging fever, which brought her near to the grave; but she was saved, under the providence of God, by the skill and

unwearied attention of a fellow-exile, an eminent physician of their native city. Doctor Ayrault was a man in the prime of life, of a noble nature and high attainments, with a truly benevolent heart, and a countenance in which might be read the wish to "wipe away all tears from all eyes." He had been thrown much in the society of Marianne, while attending upon her mother, and observed, with admiration, the Christian graces which adorned her character.

"Monsieur Bretoun," said he to her father, as they were traversing the deck together, "how many shining virtues, and how many subjects for profitable reflection, are presented to our view in this little bark, which is moving so swiftly over the waters! Seneca says that the good things which belong to prosperity are to be wished; but the good things that belong to adversity are to be admired.' I have seen the truth of this remark exemplified among us; especially, when noting the resignation and fortitude of those most dear to you, -your suffering wife and incomparable daughter. O, how happy you are, in possessing their affection! but I am alone in the world: no ties of kindred bind me to those around; and yet my heart is formed to love. Can you, will you, sanction me in indulging a hope that, at some future day, however distant, I may win your Marianne to become my wife?

"Ah, doctor, it is hard to think of parting with

my child; but, if the time must come, I should feel that her happiness was secured, if her hand and heart were given to you. But speak not to her upon the subject now, she has been so much harassed of late wait till our voyage is over."

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Marianne became fond of the doctor's society; for his conversation was deeply interesting, and his fund of knowledge inexhaustible. He unfolded to her inquiring mind many wonders of nature, the ocean, earth, and air; and she rewarded him by singing such plaintive melodies as "charmed the listening ear of silence." Ah, mademoiselle," he observed, as they sat upon the deck, amid a spell-bound group, and her voice had ceased to float over the moonlit waves, "thy music is so sweetly sad, and so melodiously melancholy, that, though unused to the melting mood, I am fain to dissolve in tears. But cheer thee up, lady, and give us a more lively strain; for our weary voyage is well nigh ended, and we soon

again behold the land."

"Yes; but it will be a strange land, and a dreary. Physician, thou art skilled in removing bodily infirmities, hast thou a balm to banish regret? and canst thou cure the heart of its homesickness?"

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Nay, maiden; the great Physician only can pour balm upon the spirit; but I can learn to bear these evils with fortitude even of thee."

A few more days wore away, ere the sight of