The carriage soon turned into a fashionable street, even at that early hour brilliant with gas lights. Elegant equipages rolled past; already lights streamed, and music sounded from many splendid dwellings. Soon the carriage drew up before one even more splendid--the steps were let down--the door thrown wide by a servant in livery, and, with mingled pride and tenderness irradiating his fine countenance, and meeting with a smile her perplexed and wondering glance, Frank led his fair bride into a spacious and beautiful apartment, taste and elegance pervading all its arrangements. A young girl sprang from the sofa, and came tripping to meet them. "My sister Helen, dearest Ursula. Helen, embrace your sister, and welcome her to the home she is henceforth to grace." Then leading the agitated girl to a seat, he threw himself on his knees before her, saying, "Pardon, pardon, my dearest wife! I, too, had my secret. No poor artist sought your love--I, too, am the heir of wealth; I, too, sought to be loved for myself alone. Say that you forgive me, dear one." Ursula could not speak, but wept her joy and happiness on his bosom. Helen laughs merrily, yet slily wipes a tear from her eye, then kissing them both, she says, "What think you now of the great book of human nature you went forth to study, you discontented ones? You favorites of fortune! ingrates that you have been--you foolish pair of lovers! Listen dear brother. As the rich Frank Leland you possessed the same attributes of goodness as did Frank Leland the poor artist; and you, dear sister, were no less lovely and amiable as the heiress of wealth, than as Ursula the little cap-maker. See you not, then, that true merit, whether it gilds the brow of the rich man or radiates around the poor man's path, will find its way to every pure and virtuous mind. Henceforth, you dear ones, look at human nature with more friendly eyes, and forget in the excellencies of the _many_, the errors of the _few_." NO, NOT FORGOTTEN. BY EARLE S. GOODRICH. For Nature gives a common lot, To live, to love, to be forgot. CONE. No, not forgotten; there are memories clinging Round every breast that beats to hope and fear In this drear world, until the death's knell, ringing, Chimes with heart-moanings o'er the solemn bier; Then come love's pilgrims to the sad shrine, bringing The choicest offering of the heart--a tear. No, not forgotten; else bowed down with anguish Were the brave hearts that mingle in the strife. Patriot and Christian in their toil would languish-- Truth lie down-trodden--Error, then, stalk rife Over the body she at last could vanquish-- So fond remembrance ceased along with life.