dashed at times with looks of seriousness and moments of depression, for the partings consequent upon such occasions take away from them a great deal of their joy. Night came, they separated, and the rejoicing lover returned to his barracks, believing that on the morrow he was to claim his winsome bride.

"Harley! Harley!" said the colonel, you have gained a warm heart, may you know how to keep it.'

But why did the old man's lip tremble and his voice falter and fail, when Emily came to him that night for her farewell kiss and blessing? Far away at first were his thoughts then, in a burning land where beneath the shadow of the palm tree her mother's cold form had been laid. He remembered a similar wish, and charges like what he had given Harley given to himself about that precious one, but that they availed him not to keep her from the destroyer. And now there was to be a new separation, and who could tell what exchange Emily was to make! Man was uncertain, and she was to leave him for this stranger.

"Yet would it not be selfish," said he, when he reached his own room and had closed the door-" would it not be most selfish of me to have it otherwise? I should soon leave her behind me and alone in the world; how blessed the certainty that she has found a protector !"

"Can a maid forget her ornaments, or a bride her attire?" said one, speaking by the voice of inspiration, and adopting imagery drawn from knowledge of the human heart at once just and perfect. When the family separated for the evening, Emily, with all a maiden's fondness for gay clothing, and with her poor little heart throbbing with joy and anxiety for the day that was fast coming round, went to her room to give her last look-over to the wedding garments which were there laid out in profusion. An hour or more was occupied in this harmless. pleasure, and she half blushed as she caught herself looking very often in the glass, "wondering what Charles will say to this new bonnet !" or "how shall I twine this ringlet?" Time moved on; she had no inclination for sleep, so bidding Louise, her Swiss servant, leave some water that she

might bathe her feet in, and then go to rest, she drew her chair. over to the fire, and taking up a book began to read.

It was a curious old German romance, abounding in the mysticism so characteristic of that singular nation. Her mind wandered, nor with her greatest efforts could she succeed in getting through it connectedly, yet it was suited to her mood in this respect as every page contained fragments of striking thought rather than a closely woven and continuous history. There was in it the strength of a powerful intellect blended with extreme credulity and superstition. She would sometimes, when caught by an idea whose wildness raised it almost to sublimity, rest her head upon her open hand, and pause that she might bring her mind to bear more closely upon the writer's meaning. One of these remarks was to the effect, that on occasions which are epochs in our history, from their pregnant blessing or misfortune, the dead who love us wander back from their spirit-land that they may be near to witness our happiness or relieve our woe. She breathed quick as she read it, and moaned out once or twice the word "Mother," and glanced around her inquiringly as if she expected her eye would somewhere encounter that loved form. It was expectation, and yet it was dread, the longing for the sight of one so dear, and the mortal shrinking from a visitant fresh from the earthy grave.

She laid aside the volume: it had made her nervous and agitated" why had she taken it up at all?" and going over, (according to a custom she had given herself,) she flung up her window, and looked out on the night. The moon was sailing high, through drifting masses of watery vapour, lighting up the heavens in her own immediate neighbourhood, but leaving all the rest in gloom. Here and there a few stars were to be seen; and though the angry clouds continually swept them away, yet in the intervals she could discover them again shining on with pale and ineffectual light. In the square before her, the lamps burned faintly and far between; many of them had been extinguished by the strong sudden gusts, while those that remained flickered and were swayed to and fro by the

driving wind. The trees in the enclosure tossed wildly about their cumbrous arms, and, bereft of their foliage, added to the dreariness of the scene. Still it was cooling to her throbbing temples to let that breeze sweep past her; nor heeded she the rain drops, heavy and thick, it sometimes brought with it, and dashed against her face and bosom. On the opposite side of the square, high up in a tall house, a single taper was burning; it was some company to her, and she was glad to see it there. But she wondered what it was they were doing in that room; were they keeping their vigils by a sick bed, or was it some torturing conscience which could not rest, or some quiet student denying himself the blessing enjoyed by the poorest of his kind? Her busy fancy framed a hundred different scenes, upon which that thin jet of flame might be looking

down.

In the remote horizon, far away over a wilderness of building, she could see the grey tints of morning beginning to break out; so, hastily closing the window, she returned to the table where she had been reading, and prepared now to seek the rest her exhausted body and mind both required.

If there had been a volume to excite, was there none to compose? A silver-clasped Bible which lay near her she now took up, and read in it for a little while. It was so encouraging and soothing, and so full of immortal promise, that all anxieties and fears at once fled away. Then she kneeled down, and from those pure lips the names dear to her heart were named in earnest and faithful supplication.

It was a sight for angels. That young spiritual head-those looks commercing with the skies. that slight, and delicate, and exquisitely moulded form-that fire of thought kindled at no earthly shrine—that holy mind from which the world and worldly things were all excluded!

A last employment she had made of it on earth: yet was it well to bid the world such an adieu, and find something in exalted hope to remove the grony and bitterness of parting.

Her orisons ended-the last she ed, the last she needed-she had rtially undressed, when she recol

lected the water Louise had been ordered to leave, and which was now scarcely tepid, so unconscious had she been of the passing away of time. "Ha, well thought of!" was her remark, as she took a light from the dressing table, and laid it on the floor by the side of the washing vessel. She then brought over a chair, sat down, lifted a foot to place it in the water that movement was a fatal one! The wavy folds of the poor girl's dress caught the candle-blaze, and, shrieking with terror, she ran to the door for help, and pulled it open. There, if possible, the current of air made matters worse; and while the alarmed family rushed from their different rooms to her assistance, the night-wind blowing over the balustrades and along the corridor soon enveloped her in one sheet of flame. It at last subsided. Medical aid was procured, London provided its best; and all was done that was possible, but in vain. Some vital part had been injured, and on the third day she expired.

Here I would willingly pause. It gives me no pleasure to refer to things which, in mercy, I was spared witnessing, or to revive memories that have long since, in all probability, passed away from every one upon earth beside. But I find my story will be too frag. mentary, if I here break off; and I will not leave it incomplete, since I have brought my reader along with me so far.

In the morning, true to his time, at an early hour the intended husband came. His hopes were at last to be realized, all his bright anticipations were now to receive their accomplishment, and love's young dream was playing its enchantment with his soul.

He knocked. "Why was there a muffle on the knocker? and those blinds were undrawn-was he right in the house ?" He walked some paces back and looked up. "Yes!

he was quite right, but what could it be; something had gone wrong," his foreboding heart whispered, "since he left the place not a half dozen hours before.'

The door was at last how long they were!-opened, and in the terrified look of the domestic he read his doom,

"In heaven's name, what's the matter?" gasped poor Harley. "Collins, who is sick-dead?"

Whatever answer he got, he burst up stairs with a wild cry of terror: no announcement, no explanation would be waited for-"He would know the worst, and speak to her himself." The family met him on the outside of the room, and endeavoured to bear him away; but he broke through them, and with an hysterical laugh asked," Would they keep him from his bride?"

And moodily and fixedly did he seat him down by her side. They were one in heart; and though the priest spake not over them the church benison, were united, they felt, as lastingly in affection. She was glad to see him; and exquisite as were her sufferings, not even these could distract her love. She constantly murmured over his name; and in all the afterwanderings of her senses, "poor, poor Charles!" was a sound they could easily detect in the midst of broken and incoherent ravings.

And was she resigned to die-she who had promised herself only now to live? She was. One strong wish alone possessed her, and it was this, that her betrothed's heart should be reconciled to the awful change. In her intervals of reason she spoke to him gently and quietly about her departure. She even gave him some directions for her burial, which he religiously fulfilled, and entreated him to submit as a man with fortitude, as a Christian with hope.

She died, as I said before, on the third day. When I reached England it had been all over for a month, and had ceased being the current gossip of the metropolis; even the newspapers did not give any "further particulars," and the world went on quietly and pleasantly, as if no such thing had happened. So speedeth the current of life: the voyager sinks, and the bubbles of his drowning agony soon pass away; nor ever tells the smooth surface what hideous sights may be seen beneath, and what deeds have been done by those smiling waves. And the gay and the venturesome put out in their well-rigged barks; with swelling sail and flaunting pennon they at first move on, but surely in the end cometh the self-same destiny; and,

encountering it, they receive at the hands of their fellows just the same amount of sympathy they were ready themselves to impart.

A double funeral on the same day entered the gates of Ashton churchyard. They who were so loving in their lives in death were not divided. The father and child rest there together, and the family vault received at once the last lingering remnants of a long line. Shall I not say-they sleep well?

Harley I found at an obscure fishing village of Devonshire. He was calm, very calm, and quiet; the strong hand of grief had tamed him, and every wild pulsation of life had departed. He was so gentle too, that I could do with him exactly as I pleased; and at times he would talk to me with something of his former animation; when, as it were, surprised with his own cheerfulness, he would pause in the midst of a sentence, and in the fitful uncertainty of grief leave it unfinished. "She was not dead," he would say " he was going up to town to meet her, and be married. That was a cruel story those unfeeling people were spreading abroad!" Then his eye would fall upon his own mourning ring, and the dreamer's cup be dashed in a moment to the ground.

At last, one day he told me he had made up his mind to leave England, and for ever. Its sky was a pall, its memories too overpowering for a heart so crushed and riven as his own. I did not oppose his wish, for I saw the springs of life so evidently loosening where he was, that any change must be for the better. Italy he might not go to; but just then was the glorious struggle made by the Greeks for their liberty, and he told me he would devote whatever military skill he possessed to their cause. He did so, and not only that, but munificently contributed his pecuniary means; and I have reason to know that some of the earliest successes which infused the confidence of victory into the national mind, are due to the heroic daring of the one I have described under the name of Harley.

I was acquainted with many of our Phil-Hellenist countrymen: some were my own private friends; others I sought out because of Harley's joining

himself to them. But very different motives from his had led them to the battle-fields of that interesting land: they had been looking for glory; he, I knew, had gone to seek a grave, and he found it. In that desperate nightattack at Laspi, where Mark Bozzaris with a handful of men nearly cut to pieces a whole Turkish army, Harley was a volunteer. When the Greek leader fell, he endeavoured to rally the dispirited Suliotes, and disdaining to retreat with them when by one blow they might finish the whole campaign, he was cut down by a Mirdite scimitar; and there that broken heart found its coveted repose and a soldier's grave to rest in.

Long, long after, I happened at Constantinople to suggest, out of very limited knowledge of medicine, some sim ple but efficacious remedy for the ague to an old Mussulman in whose house I lodged. In his gratitude, he not only would not receive any remuneration from me while I remained in the city, but on my leaving gave me a valuable diamond, and an ornament which he said once belonged to one of my countrymen, for which reason he thought I might value it.

He would not tell me how it came into his possession. It was a ring, and one glance told me it had been Harley's. If I needed any confirmation, I found it in the inscription on the inner circumference,

"Love my Memory, E. M."

If you should ever go to Ashton, you will find the chancel of its little church filled with monuments of the ancient house of Montagu. There are altar-tombs of airy fretted work, as if the cunning hand of the sculptor had learned to weave the stone, not carve it. And there are couches of faded marble, whereon repose the warriors of the Crusades, each with his lady by his side with hands no more grasping sword-blade or pole-axe, but meekly joined together in prayer. And again, later than these, are plenty of the times of Charles and James. You will know them by the peaked beard, and short ruff, the padded hose, and rosetted sandals. But if you look for poor Emily's memorial, you will find it in the wall adjoining the pulpit. It is no more than a small slab of marble relieved by a black ground, and it bears nothing besides her name, her age, and a sentence in French. This last was a sore puzzle to the worthy villagers; it even baffled the schoolmaster, and in consequence was regarded with awe on account of its sublimity. Casual visitors, to be sure, read and understood it, and often wondered that an English girl should have this continental inscription over her; but they did not know her history. It had been placed there by her own dying direction to Harley, and was the same her father, was decyphering to her when we first found them at Santa Croce.