Sorrow and joy were both in the house of Mr. Perceval; for one lovely baby was laid out in its white shroud, and, in the same hour, another's eyes first opened on the light. There were two persons watching in the chamber of death—the father, who gazed on the smiling lips and smooth fair brow of his first-born son, till with tears he blessed the pitying hand which had stilled the little voice of agony, and obliterated for ever the traces of pain; and the nurse, a young and tender-hearted Irish woman, who had borne the infant sufferer through his brief life of torment, and now with Christian love hung over the placid features, that the sinless spirit beautified in death; till the coffin closed over the transient light, which the departing soul had left, and the empty cradle received a new birth. It was long before Eva could observe, in this unconscious subject of her daily comparison, any charms to equal those that were buried with the earlier object of her care; and she never could avoid contrasting "the tender blue of those loving eyes," shaded by their silken lashes, which seemed opening upon her from the tomb, every time she looked at the full large orbs, that stared out of the meagre long face of his unadmired successor; and she never tired talking of the glossy ringlets, that she used to twist round the comb, with such elaborate care, when she was adorning her little Henry for company; as soon as she saw Alfred's "ugly bare head," without a lace cap. This young gentleman, however, paid no attention to such discourse, so unfavourable to himself, but continued to live on, very well satisfied with his own share of beauty; and it was not before two or three years had passed over his head, and made him vain, that he discovered any pride in his appearance. But then, when his figure rounded into perfect shape, when the lace cap was exchanged for golden ringlets, and the rose and the lily were blended in his lovely face, he would exhibit, with great delight, his red shoes, and worked slip, and coral clasps, which his mother had bought in the pride of her maternal fondness, to correspond with the beauty of her son. Mr. Perceval had a country seat, a short walk from Baltimore, where he resided with his family during the summer months. The guns from Fort M'Henry announced our annual festival—the soldiers were assembling in the city—Alfred heard the drums and the trumpets,—and the little hero must go to town, to see the parade. With many charges to Eva (who was now in the habit of bringing forward the beauties of her two nurslings, not "in opposition but in compare") the reluctant mother consented to expose her son for a short time, in the close air of the city, from a natural wish to gratify his infant taste for "all the pomp and circumstance of war." I would not like to say, how many poor children are dragged over the scorching pavements and burning roads of our town, during the great national feast, without any refreshment themselves, except perhaps a glass of heated beer, or a dusted cake. Alfred Perceval was more fortunate—supported in the arms of his careful, tender nurse, from a window on the shady side of Market street, he saw the long military line extend from the western extremity to the bridge. His head moves to the sound of the music, he springs in Mary's arms, as the horsemen gallop past; his eyes sparkle at the flashing swords; and his brave little heart recoils not at the sound of the guns. When the show was over, Eva brought him home, and made him a cap of blue paper, and put a red feather in it. With this on his head, he strutted about the house, to the music of a cocoanut shell he had for a kettledrum, which his mother preferred to that of a tin canister, which the young musician would have preferred himself. Nothing could exceed the glow of delight which made Alfred so beautiful that day, and the parents exulted in the health of their son. Oh! what a sad reverse, to sink at once the current of this joy,—before midnight their little soldier was raging with fever, and when the restlessness of the disease was over, it settled with a fatal stillness on the brain; and during six weeks he lay insensible to all that was done to save him.

I will not attempt to describe the misery of the parents, for my story is to be a brief one; but it pleased the Power of Mercy to abate their hopeless grief, through the instrumentality of medical skill; and Alfred once more opened his eyes to a new existence, and stared around him as he did before. A cap supplied the place of the beautiful fair curls, that were all cut away, and the child was placed in Eva's arms, as helpless and nearly as unconscious then, as when he first received the precarious gift of life. But Eva carried him to the garden, and the woods, where the leaves, now dyed with all the rich tints of our splendid autumn, presented so many colours to his sight; and while she called his attention to the various objects around him, his slow remembrance returned, and he would smile at all the creatures that he used to love—"the beasts of the field and the fowls of the air." And then she would make him smell the flowers she culled for him, and listen to the music of the birds; till at last every sense was restored to its natural power, and his mind awoke from its long deep sleep, but the weakness of his frame continued, and many months passed away, before he was able to put his feet to the ground; and by that time, a little brother overtook his steps, and they both began to walk together; while each had his nurse, and his eulogist, who praised her own charge,—and no wonder, for Alfred's mind (strengthened, it would seem, after so long a rest) exhibited, from day to day, powers of observation and reflection, much beyond his age. And his happy parents would often call him their "baby philosopher," while they smiled with delight at his sage remarks. And Charles was the prettiest little puppet ever seen; his dancing steps, always keeping time to the music of his own thoughts, which were scarcely ever out of tune; and so fond was he of the exercise of life, that they never laid him down in his bed, for necessary rest, without his having a playful struggle against the advances of sleep; but after kicking his feet against the posts of his crib, as long as he was able, and singing "by, by baby"—after slapping his pillow till he was tired, he was usually found by his mother asleep, when she went to bed, with his pocket handkerchief rolled into a rag baby, and his head lying where his feet ought to be. But before any one else was stirring in the morning, he was awake again, when he would stoop over his low crib, and take his boots in, and while he was trying to put them on, but succeeded neither by the heels nor the toes, he would talk to them about their conduct, or tell himself stories of cats and dogs, with shawls and bonnets; and pigeons, with yellow shoes, walking down Market street. Yet with all this imagination himself, he had so little inclination to profit by the thoughts of others, that his mother could with difficulty teach him the alphabet, before he was sent to his first school; though his brother (who never told a story that I remember, except one that had "seventeen foxes" in it) could read perfectly. With a foreign teacher, however, Charles seemed very suddenly to make great advances; and, at four years of age, he was always head or next to head in his lessons; to the surprise of his attentive parents, who could not themselves perceive so great a progress in learning as this seemed to indicate; but upon investigating the matter thoroughly, they found out, that there was only Charles and another little urchin in the class; which little urchin was to occasion them more distress, than they ever could have anticipated. One Sunday, dressed in his finest clothes, he found Charles at the door of his father's town-house (for it was early in the spring,) and persuaded him to take a walk. Accordingly, the two young travellers set off together, but no sooner had they reached the confines of the town and point, than they quarrelled about their future destination; when Master Jacky left Charles to steer his own course, and ran home as fast as he could. The poor little fellow scorned to cry, but wandered about, more and more bewildered, till he reached one of the wharves, where a Spanish vessel was about to spread its sails to a fair wind, and put to sea. Such a strange prospect, opening at once upon the frightened child, when he thought he was so many steps nearer home, occasioned an instant defeat of all his self-confidence; and he burst out into a loud and continued cry, which arrested the attention of a gentleman, who was just at that moment hurrying to reach the vessel.

The little boy was in distress, and he was compassionate; but what was to be done? The wharf contained no individual, but themselves and the sailors; the wind was fair, and the captain would not delay. The stranger could not speak the language of the child, but he smiled while he took his hand, and smoothed his little brow, and Charles understood him as well as if he had spoken to him in English; for he was accustomed to the sight of foreigners in his father's house, and in a similar manner he always held discourse with them. So he stopped crying, and smiled in return; and the gentleman, delighted with his pleasant looks, gave the child his watch to carry, while he carried him; for the captain, in a passion, had ordered the vessel from the shore, and the stranger was obliged to take Charles on board, or leave him on the wharf to cry, and perhaps be drowned. While the novelty of his situation amused his mind, Charles continued quiet; but after that, when he thought of his nurse, his tender parents, and his kind brother, at home, his little heart seemed ready to break; and, only for the constant tenderness of his unknown friend, I believe he would have died. But by degrees his grief became subdued, and before the vessel reached Cuba, he was the pet of all the sailors, and the delight of his kind protector; who, after this, could not bear to part with him, but having no children of his own, he adopted him, and had him educated as his son: and upon his approaching death, which happened about six years after, he left Charles his little property, under the guardianship of a Boston merchant, with whom he had been transacting business many years: and upon whom he now relied, for the discovery of the parents of the child; which he had been only anxious to avoid before.

This gentleman went to receive his charge very willingly; and, on his return to Boston, he placed Charles in a celebrated school, to which Alfred Perceval had been sent by his considerate parents when they found that grief for the loss of his little brother, had settled too much in studious habits, and aversion to companionship. Charles's guardian then went to Baltimore. He was introduced to Mr. Perceval, and invited to dine at his house. There he told the story of his little ward; when he was shocked to observe, what an effect it produced on Mrs. Perceval; for years had scarcely mitigated the agony she first felt, at the strange loss of her infant; to which the death of her eldest son, and the long torpor of his brother, were supportable distresses; since they were not aggravated by the power of imagination. But Mr. Perceval (more collected than she was) could not avoid seeing, in a similar circumstance, something to awaken his own hopes; he therefore acquainted the gentleman with their loss; and asked him if the child he spoke of, had ever told his name. "If he did, sir, my friend, not understanding the rest of his language, must have forgotten it; but he kept a little handkerchief, that had been pinned to his robe, and which I have now in my pocket-book." He drew it out, and gave it to Mrs. Perceval, who had been relieved by tears from her first emotion; but when she saw the initials, C. P., marked by her own hands, she screamed out—"Oh! my dear husband, it is our own son"—and instantly fainted away. Eva, who was still in the house, and now attending two fine little girls, was loudly called by the alarmed Mr. Perceval. She came directly, and his lady soon recovered by their united assistance.

The parents then proposed to write instantly for their sons; but before the letter was sent, they received one from Alfred, requesting permission to bring a little Spanish boy home with him, for whom he had become greatly interested, owing to a circumstance which happened in school, soon after Charles was placed there. A large boy, of greater bulk than manners, took a fancy one day to insult the feelings of the little foreigner, in a manner he could not bear; and he flew at his tormentor, who would instantly have struck him down, had not Alfred Perceval that moment appeared; who, stepping between them, pushed the elder boy aside, and then detaining the other, he said—"For shame! Roscoe, how can you, such a big boy, try the temper of a little stranger like this, who cannot answer us in our own language? I thought you had more feeling." "Now, for one cent I could knock you down, Perceval; but I don't know how it is, you get the better of us all—masters and scholars. However, you'll be going to college soon," continued the rough boy, dashing away a tear—"and, that you may go off with flying colours, as a peace-maker and a peace-keeper, here's my hand, little tawney coat, and thank him that you did not get a good drubbing." But Charles, perhaps misconceiving the intention of this action, or thinking that he ought to have the pride of a Spaniard, turned from Roscoe with disdain, and throwing himself into the arms of Alfred, he wept with such a gush of feeling, that it completely overcame the nerves of that sensitive boy, who struggled in vain against his own tears, which then flowed at one thought, and that was of his little brother. But what was his joy afterward, when his father's letter arrived, and told him that "the lost was found?" I will pass over the joy of Mr. and Mrs. Perceval, upon the first arrival of their sons, for every one can imagine it; but I must say, that their happiness increased every day; as they observed, that Charles's Spanish education had taught him to pursue every thing that was honourable in principle and practice. He soon adopted his newly discovered kindred with a strength of attachment which seemed almost to have some early recollection for its foundation. And when Eva brought his nurse, Sarah, to see him, (who was now living with her husband in comfortable circumstances,) he smiled as if he really remembered her, and Sarah was sure that he did. Mr. and Mrs. Perceval, considering maturely on the subject, at length agreed, that it would be better to keep their sons at home, with proper instructors, until Charles understood English sufficiently to understand them; when he could return to school with greater advantage; and his guardian willingly gave up the future direction of the person and fortune of his ward to his most natural directors. Before the vacation ended then, all Alfred's school companions were invited to a farewell party, which was prepared with great taste by his mother. The company assembled—all the most distinguished little people of the city; and when the carpets were thrown aside, and the lamps blazed, their light young feet gave little rest to the music. But, though the refreshments were numerous, and handed round constantly, I believe no young person was disgraced by an immoderate use of them. Indeed, I understand that a resolution has been formed by the most promising youth of our city, to "be temperate in all things," as republicans ought to be; and especially to stand always armed against every device of that treacherous spirit, which entering alone into the secret folds of inward depravity, or assailing, with the combined powers of evil example, the outward avenues to sin, saps the foundation of the soul, till man becomes a tottering ruin, and a blighting shade, over his own household; and a nation is darkened with the wreck of her sons.

C. M. B.