round remained
in the wilderness of uncultivated nature. Since that day, the stillness
has been disturbed by the sound of the axe and the hammer. Upon the
borders of that sweet lake, a fair home has risen, from which the
incense of grateful and loving hearts has gone up to the Creator of so
much beauty. The associations which made this scene peculiarly
interesting to me I had long since written out, and now give to the
reader under the title of

LOSS AND GAIN;

OR, HEARTS VERSUS DIAMONDS.

Winter had thrown its icy fetters over the Hudson, and stilled even the
stormier waves of the East River, as the inhabitants of New-York
designate that portion of the Harbor which lies between their city and
Brooklyn. The city itself--its streets--its houses--all wore the livery
of this "ruler of the inverted year"--while in many a garret and cellar
of its crowded streets, ragged children huddled together, seeking to
warm their frozen limbs beneath the scanty covering of their beds, or
cowering over the few half-dying embers, which they misnamed a fire. Yet
the social affections were not chilled--rather did they seem to glow
more warmly, as though rejoicing in their triumph over the mighty
conqueror of the physical world. Christian charity went forth unchecked
through the frosty air and over the snow-clad streets, to shelter the
houseless, to clothe the naked, to warm the freezing. Human sympathies
awoke to new-life, the dying hopes and failing energies of man; and the
sleigh-bells, ringing out their joyous peals through the day, and far,
far into the night, told that the young and fair were abroad braving all
the severities of the season, in their eager search after pleasure. In
the neighborhood of Waverley Place, especially, on the evening of the
16th of December, did this merry music "wake the silent air" to respond
to the quick beatings of the gay young hearts anticipating the fete of
fetes, the most brilliant party of the season, which was that evening to
be given at the house of the ruler of fashion--the elegant Mrs. Bruton.

Instead of introducing our readers to the gay assemblage of this lady's
guests, we will take them to the dressing-room of the fairest among
them, the beautiful, the gay, the brilliant Caroline Danby. As the door
of this inner temple of beauty opens at the touch of our magic wand, its
inmate is seen standing before a mirror, and her eye beams, and her lip
is smiling with anticipated triumph. Does there