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NOT GUILTY.

ELEMENTS OF THOUGHT.

CONSCIENCE.

HE that hath a scrupulous conscience is like a horse that WHAT HAVE I TO DO WITH POLITICS ?-NOTHING.

is not well broken ; he starts at every bird that flies out of From this important question, my countrymen, so weakly the hedge. A knowing man will do that which a tender and wickedly answered, have arisen all the evils which have aflicted the nation through a long succession of ages. The other knows there is no hurt ; as a child is afraid to go

conscienced man dares not do, by reason of his ignorance. This is the fountain from which not only waters of bitter into the dark when a man is not, because he knows there is ness, but rivers of blood, have flowed! Did you ever doubt

no danger. But if one once come to leave that outloose, as what connexion you had with morals and virtue ? And what are politics but that wide system of duties which na convenience may follow! For thus, suppose an Anabap

to pretend a conscience against law, who knows what ini tion owes to nation. Politics are to nations what morals

tist comes and takes my horse ;—I sue him ; he tells me he are to individuals. They have lately, indeed, been called

did according to his conscience; his consicence tells him the principal branch of morals I think they are more : I hold them to be the great trunk of morals, on which all all things are common among the Saints," what is mine is

his, therefore you do ill to make a law that a man who the other duties depend but as branches. It is only upon a strict performance of these duties that you can expect this man? He does according to his conscience. Why is

takes another's horse shall be hanged. What can I say to to be prosperous and happy as a people. Now as war can only be just on one side, it must be murder on the other. not he as honest a man as he that pretends a ceremony es. The good or evil qualities of all actions depend, not on the tablished by law is against his conscience ? Generally

, to number or dignity of the agents, but on their tendency to pretend conscience against law is dangerous ; in some case

haply we may.

Some men make it a case of conscience, promote the good of mankind. By this standard must equally be tried the actions of the peasant and the prince whether a man may have a pigeon-house, because his pi. In the guilt or innocence of the present war, as we all con.

geons eat other folk's corn. But there is no such thing as tribute to carry it on, either by personal service, or the taxes

conscience in the business ; the matter is, whether he be a which we pay, the declaration of war by the King has

man of such quality, that the state allows him to have a deeply involved us. We are bound, therefore, as moral and dove-house ; if so, there's an end to the business—his piaccountable agents, to examine the justice of the measure.

geons have a right to eat where they please. Selden. The means of information are at hand, and let me assure you, that when knowledge is a duty, ignorance is a crime.

THERE is some confusion about this plea, and from col. Gerald.*

scientious scruples men have refused to employ it. Selden [This was written in warning at the beginning of the says, “A man may plead not guilty, and yet tell no lie;" ruinous French war, which ended with the restoration of not that he is conscious of innocence, but that, “ by the the now expelled Bourbons, and after the grinding National law no man is bound to accuse himself ;" so that when I Debt of Great Britain amounted to sums which may be seen

say not guilty, the meaning is, “I am not so foolish as to in the following curious calculations] :-On the 5th June, tell you. If you will bring me to a trial, and have nie 1811, the debt, funded and unfunded, was L.811,898,811, punished for this which you lay to my charge, prove it which is equal to 773,236,267 guineas, which at five dwts. against me." eight grains each guinea, weigh 6312 tons, 11 cwts. three quarters, five pounds, one ounce, six drams avoirdupois.

The unwillingness of the monks (or any churchmen) Now suppose a waggon and four horses to extend in length to part with their land, will fall to be just nothing ; be. 20 yards, and to carry two and a half tons of the said gui- cause they were yielded up to the king by a supreme hand, neas, the number of teams necessary to carry the whole namely, Parliament. If a king conquer another country, would extend in length 28 miles and 23 yards. To count the people are loath to lose their lands; yet no churchman the debt in shillings, at the rate of 30s. in a minute, for will deny but that the king may give them to whom he ten hours a-day and six days a-week, would take 2469 pleases. If a Parliament make a law concerning leather, years, 306 days, 17 hours, and 30 minutes. · Its height in or any other commodity, you or I, for example, are Farliaguineas, supposing twenty to be an inch, would be 610 ment men ; perhaps, in respect to our own private interests, miles, 339 yards, and 9 inches. And supposing each gui. we are against it, yet the major part conclude it ; we are nea an inch in diameter, they would extend in a right line then included, and the law is good.Selden. 12,203 miles, 150 yards, and 7 inches. Moreover, the said guineas would cover in space 3 acres, 2 roods, and 202 THERE is no government enjoined by example but by yards; and lastly, in shillings, each an inch in diameter, precept ; it does not follow that we must have bishops still would cover 7319 acres, one rood, and 34 yards.

because we have had them so long.

All is as the state The last wars cost Britain not less than L2,040,000,000 pleases.- Selden. of our money. To aid our conceptions of the vastness of

Heretofore the nation let the church alone, let them do as this sum, suppose this money were in gold, and valued at they would, because they had something else to think of, 15 per ounce, it would weigh about 14,000 tons, which things, and will have nothing ; but grow dainty, aud

vize wars; but now, in time of peace, we begin to examine all would load, at three tons each, 4800 waggons; and if in wanton-just as in a family, when the heir goes a huntsilver, at 58. per ounce, about 76,000 waggons; and al- ing-he never considers how his meat is drest, but takes a lowing 20 yards to a waggon, would reach, in a direct line, curious ; he does not like this, nor he does not like that:

bit and away ; but when he stays within, then he grows about 864 miles. If an ounce of gold can be drawn into he will have his meat drest his own way; or peradventure, a wire of 1000 feet long, the above sum would be sufficient he will cook it himself.-Selden. to make a girdle for the whole globe!!! * Need we say Joseph Gerald the Political Martyr.

* A wild sect of Anabaptists in Germany beld these tenets. There were a few of them in England in the time of Sclden,

RIGHTS OF CHURCH PROPERTY.

BISHOPS.

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THE STORY-TELLER.

tion : on the contrary, he would have felt pleasure in it

had not Fanny seemed to enjoy it so much herself; but he THE SOLDIER'S RETURN.

saw her eyes sparkle at other praises than his, and he alABRIDGED FROM MRS. OPIE.

ways returned from the parade displeased with Fanny, and SIMPLE is the story that I am going to tell, and lowly are dissatisfied with himself. che hero and heroines of it; and perhaps, were I to relate it Still he had not resolution to refuse to accompany her in their humble language, its interest would be much in every evening to a scene so fatal to his peace: and if he creased: but I dare not do so_lest, while pleasing some, had, he feared that she might resolve to go thither without I should displease many: therefore, should my readers ex- him; and he was as wretched as an accepted lover could perience neither interest nor pleasure in the perusal of this be, when a day was fixed on for a review of the regulars tale, I can only exclaim, “ I wish you had heard Mary tell quartered in the town and its environs, and of the new. it herself!"

raised militia. Fanny Hastings was the daughter of a publican in the “ Only think, Lewellyn,” said Panny to her lover ; little town of

in South Wales. When she was “ there is going to be a review !" only eight years old both her parents died, and she became “ And what then ?" replied he in a peevish accent, disdependent on the kindness of an aunt, and on the labours of pleased at the joy that sparkled in her eyes. her own hands, for support; and she soon found sufficient “What then !” rejoined the mortified beauty ; “ only I employment to enable her, with the aid of her relation, not-I never saw a review in my life.” ouly to maintain herself, but to appear better dressed than “ And I do not know that it signifies whether you ever many girls whose situation in life was not higher than her see one or no,” returned Lewellyn, still more pettishly. own.

“ I am of a different opinion,” retorted Fanny; "and if Fanny was beautiful; so much so, that her beauty was you do not take me to see the review--next week, I know the subject of conversation, even amongst the genteel circles who will—that's all :” and away she walked in all the dig. in

and many a youth of the same station with nity of conscious and offended power. herself was earnest to be her accepted lover ; but profes Nor did she overrate her influence. Lewellyn's jealousy sions of love she listened to with pleasure from one only. took alarm; he followed her immediately, and with a

Lewellyn Morgan, with his father and mother, and his forced laugh told her that he knew as well as she did who cousin Mary, was her opposite neighbour. His father was would take her to the review. a carpenter, his mother took in plain work, and he him. 6 Who?" angrily asked Fanny. self was undecided whether to follow his father's business “ Myself,” replied her humbled swain,“ and we will or seek a different employment,—when he fell in love with walk together to the heath on which it is to be; it is, you our handsome sempstress.

know, only three miles off.” Fanny, whether from coquetry or convenience, always “ Walk!" exclaimed Fanny; “ walk! and be melted sat by the window at work : it was therefore impossible for with heat, and our clothes covered with dust when we get her not to observe Lewellyn sometimes,-particularly as he there! No, indeed ! fine figures we should be.” was young, neatly dressed, well made, and as much an ob “ I should not like you the worse, Fanny; and I jact of admiration to the women as she was to the men : thought you went to see, and not to be seen,” said Lewellyn. besides, his eyes seemed to be often on the watch for hers, “ However, just as you please ; I suppose you have thought and it would have been cruel to disappoint them.

of some other way of going." One day his cousin Mary said sarcastically, “ That he did “O yes, we can borrow your cousin John's cart and nothing but look from the window," and as Lewellyn red- horse ; Mary can drive me, and you can hire a pony and dened, his father said, “ That girl opposite seems a good ride by the side of us." industrious girl," and his mother added, “ I dare say she Lewellyn, with a deep sigh, consented to the proposal, will make a good wife.”—“She is pretty-looking," fal- and even assisted Fanny to conquer Mary's aversion to pertered Mary. Pretty looking!cried Lewellyn angrily. form her part of the plan. - She is an angel."

“ I hate war, and all that belongs to it," cried Mary; The yonng people became acquainted, and the attention“ believe me, I shall have no pleasure if I go." of Lewellyn, while Fanny lay sick, so charmed her aunt, “ But you will give others pleasure by going,” said that her consent was obtained, and he was an accepted lover, Lewellyn ; and Mary consented directly. though the marriage was from prudence delayed till Lewel. The important day arrived, and Fanny appeared at her lyp should learn his father's trade, which Fanny chose for aunt's window, ready dressed, long before the hour aphim. War was declared at this time.

pointed for them to set off. “ How beautiful she looks !" A military spirit pervaded the whole town'; the indus- thought Lewellyn, “and how smart she is ! too smart for trious artisan forsook his work-shop to lounge on the pa- her situation; yet had she been dressed so to please me, I rade: here, too, the servant girl showed herself in her Sun- should not have cared for that; but she would not have day clothes, and even Fanny preferred listening to the mi- taken such pains with her dress to please me !” Ltary band, and beholding the military array, to a quiet I doubt Lewellyn was only too much in the right; and Falk in the fields with her lover.

that though she looked so handsome that he could not help But the sound of martial music was not the only one gazing on her as they went along, at the hazard of riding that reached and delighted her ear. Praises of her beauty against posts and carriages, this look had something so sad an along the ranks“ A devilish fine girl! who is she ? and reproachful, that Fanny, she knew not why, perhaps was audibly whispered by the officers. Some young men,

wished to avoid it; and when he ventured to say, “ You who had in vain sought Fanny's attention when they wore would not have made yourself so smart to walk alone with the plain dress of tradesmen, now took pains to attract her me, Fanny !” a self-accusing blush spread itself over her eges by their dexterity in the manual, and by displaying to cheek, and for the first time in her life she wished herself all possible advantage the brilliancy of their dress, in order, less smart. persiapa to let Fanny feel the value of the prize which she Eager, therefore, to change the subject of Lewellyn's kad rejected; while others, not content with exciting her thoughts, she asked Mary whence arose her extreme averregret for her cruelty to them, were still desirous of gaining sion to soldiers and to war. her love ; and, unawed by the almost fierce looks of Lewel. “I will tell you,” said Mary impatiently, “and then I lyn, persisted in making way for her in the crowd, that she desire you to question me on this subject no more.

My might hear the band to advantage.

father was a soldier, my mother followed him to battle; I And but too often, Fanny, delighted at the attention paid was born on a baggage-waggon, bred in the horrors of a to her, rewarded it by smiles so gracious, that they conveyed camp, and at ten years old I saw my father brought home hopes and joy to the bosom of her attendants, and fear and mangled and dying from the field, while my mother was mlousy to that of her lover. Not that Lewellyn was sorry breathing her last in the camp-fever. I remember it as if to see the woman of his cbolce the object of general admira- it was only yesterday," continued Mary, shuddering and

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deeply affected; and her volatile companion was awed into Fanny's unhappy admiration of soldier's feathers and silence.

red coats had an unhappy influence on her lover, who, in a At length they arrived on the review ground; and evil hour, that he might be as captivating to her as was the Lewellyn, afraid lest the horse should be frighteued at the smart young serjeant, enlisted. firing, made them leave the cart, and then leaning on his “ Now," said he to himself, as he returned home," she arm they proceeded to the front of the ranks. But the cannot fail of loving me again! But then, to please her, 1 crowd was soon so great that Fanny began to find that she have assumed a garb hateful to myself and parents. Oh! was not likely either to see or be seen, and was almost Fanny, I feel I have purchased your love very dearly!" tempted to join Mary in regrets that she had given herself As he said this he found himself at his own door. the trouble of coming; when she was seen and recognised | I dare not tell them to-night what I have done!” said he; by one of her quondam lovers, who, since she had rejected and with a trembling hand he opened the door of the sithim, had become a sergeant in the militia of the town. ting-room. Immediately this gallant hero made his way through the “How pale you look !" exclaimed Mary, running to crowd; and forcing a poor boy to dismount from a coach- meet him. box conveniently situated for overlooking the field, he “My dear child! you are not well," cried his mother. seized Fanny's unreluctant hand, led her along the ranks, “ We must send for advice for him," said his father; and lifted her to the place, crying out—“ Make way for a “ the poor lad has looked ill some days, and bad fevers are lady!"

about. If we should lose you, Lewellyn, what would be Surprise, and the suddenness of Fanny's removal, pre come of us in our old age ?" vented Lewellyn's opposing it; but, as soon as surprise gave Lewellyn tried to speak, but his voice died away; and, way to jealousy and resentment, he prepared to follow them. leaning on the arm of his father's chair, he sobbed aloud. But it was impossible: the review was begun, and Lewellyn Alarmed at his distiess, but quite unsuspicious of the could not leave Mary, lest he should expose her to the risk cause, his mother hung about his neck; his father walked of being run down by the horses, though his own danger he up and down the room exclaiming, “What can have hapwould have disregarded: he was therefore obliged to con- pened? What can this mean?" and Mary, motionless as tent himself with watching the conduct of Fanny at a dis a statue, stood gazing on him in silence; when, as he ance, who, placed in a conspicuous situation, and taugh took his handkerchief out of his pocket, he pulled out with by coquetry to make the most of it, attracted and charmed it the cockade which he had just received from the recruite all eyes but those of her lover.

ing serjeant. In vain did Fanny cast many a kind glance towards her Mary eagerly seized it; and in an instant the truth deserted companions. She received none in return: Mary burst on her mind. “Oh! what does this mean?” cried yid not, and Lewellyn would not see them; and the plea- she in a tone of agony. “ How comes this here? Surely, sure which she experienced was at length, in spite of the surely, Jewellyn, you have not been so rash as to enlist qentinual attentions of her military bean, completely damped for a soldier!" oe the expectation of the reproaches which she knew she "Is the girl mad !" exclaimed the old man, " to suppose would receive when she returned to her lover, and which Lewellyn would do what he knew would break my heart?" her conscience told her she but too well deserved.

Lewellyn hid his face, and again sobbed aloud. The review ended, and Fanny was reconducted by the “ Would to God I may be wroug!" said Mary, “but I ysung serjeant to the friends whom she had quitted. The fear". isception which she met with I shall leave to my readers to “ Mary is always full of her sears,” said his weeping magine-suffice, that Lewellyn upbraided, that Fanny mother pettishly; and the old man was beginning anew to cried, and Mary mediated, and that they parted the best chide poor Mary, when his son, summoning up all his refriends in the world ; Lewellyn promising to drink tea at solution, faltered out, “ Mary is right ! I have enlisted!” Fanny's aunt's that afternoon, and even to behave cordi. The wretched father tottered into a chair; and, clasping ally to the young serjeant, whom Fanny thought it incum- his hands, moved backwards and forwards as he sat, in bent on her to ask, in return for his civility.

speechless agony; while the mother threw her apron over “ But if I come, Fanny, you promise not to make me un- her face, and groaned aloud; and Mary in silent grief comfortable again by your attentions to him?"

leaned her head on her hands. “O) yes ; I promise faithfully to behave just as you wish “Oh! that girl! that cursed girl!" at length exclaimed me; I will be rude to him if you like it.”

the father. « This is her doing !" “ No~I would not have you be absolutely rude, but,” “ She knows nothing of it,” replied Lewellyn ; " and you “But why do you ask him?" said Mary abruptly. have no one to blame but me." « In return for his civilities," replied Fanny.

“I had rather have to blame any one else,” cried his « And a pretty return it will be," cried Mary, “ if you father.' “ It is a hard thing to have to reproach one's own behave rudely to him ; it surely would have been' more civil child, an only child, too. Oh, Lewellyn! we have not not to have asked him at all."

deserved this of you; indeed we have not !" “ Mary is so severe !" retorted Fanny.

“ We will buy him off again!” exclaimed his mother, “ And so wise,” said Lewellyn, pecvishly—“ nothing starting from her chair. « We will spend all our little pleases her.”

savings with pleasure do it!" “ I believe, indeed, my temper is altered for the worse “ You shall have all mine too,” cried Mary; « and lately," answered Mary, bursting into tears. A profound Lewellyn will thank us in a short time, whatever he may silence ensued, and lasted till they got home :-then Fanny, do now.” seconded by Lewellyn, urged Mary with more than com “Now, and ever, I shall reject your proposal," he remon kindness, for her tears had affected them, to be of the plied. party in the evening.

“ My child !" said his father, grasping bis hand, and "No," replied Mary ;-" I had rather not come do bursting into tears, “ do you think i have lived long not like soldiers ; therefore, why should I meet them ?" | enough? Do you wish to kill me?" And Fanny, wondering at her want of taste, acceded to the Lewillyn could not answer; but he threw himself on propriety of her not coming ; but Lewellyn, 'while he ap- his neck, and sohbed aloud. proved of her determination of staying at home, observed to “ Have we found our child again ?” said his mother, himself," She does not like soldiers !--What a sensible taking his hand tenderly between both hers; and Mary, young troman my cousin Mary is ! I wish"- Here he timidly approaching him, cried—“ Dear cousin! why stopped ; but the violence with which he struck his stick should you be a soldier! If you should be sent abroad, on the ground, and shut to the door as he entered his own Lewellyn ;—if you should be killed, what would become house, were sufficient proofs that the conclusion of his sen- of ? Here her voice faltered; and, as both his patence would, if uttered, have had some reference to Fanny's rents at this moment folded their arms round him, Lewel. admiration of the very people whom Mary disliked. lyn's resolution was shaken ; and he was listening with

complacence to their renewed proposal of purchasing his “ But how will he look a year hence ?" said Mary, with discharge, when, as he raised his head, he saw Fanny at a sigh. her window, talking with smiles of complacency and glow. “ How? Why, just the same, to be sure." ing cheeks to a recruiting serjeant : and as she spoke she “ But suppose he should be ordered abroad?” replied played with the tassel of his epaulet, and seemed to be Mary. admiring the beauty of the uniform.

Fanny started, and turned pale, exclaiming, “ Bless me, This sight hurried the unhappy Lewellyn into all his Mary, you are such a croaker!" She had time for no mora wonted jealousy, and counteracted entirely the pleadings of -Lewellya was at the foot of the hill ; and Fanny, runfilial piety in his heart.

ning down it like lightning, arrived just time enough to My lot is cast !” he exclaimed, rushing to the door :- clasp her lover's extended hand as he passed, and gaze on " For your sakes, I wish it were a different one: but I am him with a look which well rewarded him for all that he resolved, and nothing can shake my resolution." So say, had suffered. ing, he left the house : but he did not go in search of Fanny, “ Come, Mary, let us follow them,” cried Fanny. who had, he observed, left the window ; for he felt dissatis “ Presently," she replied, slowly descending the hill. fied both with her and himself, and was at that moment “ You are so slow," said Fauny; “ I dare say Lewellyn ashamed to prove to her the extent of her influence over will get to his father's house before us." him, by telling her that he had become a soldier for her “ Before one of us, perhaps.” sake. He therefore hastened into the fields, and took a long « Well, that will seem very unkind to him, I am sure." and solitary ramble, in hopes to compose bis feelings, and “ No, he will not miss me, I am sure," returned Mary, enable him on his return to meet the just reproaches of his wiping away a tear;" he did not even see me as he passel; parents with more resolution.

he had no eyes but for you, Fanny.” But Fanny was out As soon as he thought that his firmness was sufficiently of hearing before she finished the sentence, and she did not ristoreil, he returned to the town; when, as he an. overtake her before she reached the town. prvached it, he saw Fanny leaving it in a market-cart The meeting of the lovers after this, their first separation, driven by a young man. She did not see him; and, over was a moment of such true joy to botli, that, alive only to come by a variety of emotions, he felt unable to call to her the pleasures of affection, they thought not of its pains; and loud enough for her to hear him; and, wretched and dis- Fanny forgot her anger, Lewellyn his jealousy, while both appointed, he reached his own house.

seemed unconscious that the will of government night, in His first inquiry was, whether Fanny had called during a few hours, doom them to a long if not an eternal separa. his absence; and he heard, with anguish, that she had not : tion. and his pride being completely conquered by affection, he These fears, however, though strangers to them, were went to her aunt's house immediately to know whither she only too present to the minds of the unhappy parents and was gone,and found she was gone to spend two days with Mary: when Fanny and Lewellyn, not liking to have their a friend of hers in the country.

joy damped by the sight of melancholy faces, went out to And gone without letting me know it, or ing leave take a walk; and Fanny, leaning on the arm of her now of me!" he exclaimed" Oh, Fanny!"

military lover, led him in triumph, as it were, through the Bat Fanny was in this case innocently blamed; and streets of his native town. when she heard of the enlistment she was in great distress, When they returned, the father and Mary took Fanny especially when told it was to recommend himself to her love on one side, asked her whether she had begun to persuade

* To please me!” cried Fanny:~" I solemnly declare Lewellyy to leave the army again : and Fanny, blushing that this rash deed was wholly without my knowledge, and deeply, replicd --" No: but that it was time enough yet ;" quite contrary to my wishes."

and again she was alive only to the satisfaction of the mo. “ Indeed !” cried both the parents.

ment. Indeed so help me God I"

Another day passed, and still she was too proud of her " Then you are willing," said Mary, “ no doubt, to use lover's appearance as a soldier to endeavour to persuade hinn all your intluence to prevail on him to let us buy his dis to be one no longer; and when spoken to on the subject, charge."

she replied, that it would be time enough for him to try to * I am-I am!" returned Fanny in a hurried manner; / get discharged when he was ordered to a distance, or to go and the poor old people folded her fondly and gratefully to abroad. their hosom.

“No!” cried Mary indignantly ;-—" should he be orFanny now found her voice again, and began to ask se- dered to go abroad, I should despise him if he wished then veral questions concerning the hasty, ill-advised step which to be discharged : for, though I value Lewellyn's life, I her lover had taken. She inquired the name of the regi- value his honour more. No; he must gain his discharge ment; and being told, she eagerly exclaimed—“ What! in now, or never!" that regiment !-the uniform is scarlet turned up with deep The destiny of Lewellyn was speedily fixed ; and when blue and gold !-Oh, how handsome he will look in his re too late, Fanny urged him to get off, though on terms deginentals !" she added, wiping her eyes, and smiling as she rogatory to his honour, and to which he would not yield. spoke.

The hour of his departure now drew nigh. In vain did The poor old man frowned, and turned away; and Mary he endeavour to keep up his spirits, by telling Fanny that shook her head : but the mother, with all a mother's va- he hoped to distinguish himself so much, that he should rebity, observed" True, child, he will look handsome, in turn a non-commissioned officer at least. His sanguine dead; and more like a captain, I warrant, than many a descriptions caused Fanny to smile, through her tears, with me that's there !" And Fanny, in the thought of her joyful anticipation: but they could not make him smile Inger's improved beauty, forgot his absence, and all sense himself; nor could they call one smile to the pale lip of his of ihe danger to which his new profession would expose cousin Mary. Her grief seemed so deep, so rooted, that him.

Lewellyn felt almost angry with her for feeling more than Mary and Fanny went next day to see a detachment in Fanny did; and sometimes a suspicion that her love for which Lewellyn marched. As they ascended a hill, a drum him exceeded the love of a relation darted across his mind and fife were heard.

and awakened there no pleasant sensations. “Come, Mary, let us run and meet them,” cried Fanny, At the moment of his leaving the parental roof, and wytally; but Mary languidly exclaimed, “ I can go no fur- when his parents, convinced that they should see him no ther!" and sat down on the ground : and Fanny consoled more, had just folded him, iu speechless agony, in a last emherself by reflecting that from the hill she could see them brace, he wrung Mary's cold hand, and said, pointing to fara better than by standing on the level road.

his father and mother-“ I bequeath them to your care, At length Fanny beheld Lewellyn ; and in a transport of Mary.” joy she exclaimed, " See, Mary, there he is ! there he is “That was quite unnecessary," she replied, half reOh how handsome he looks! but I knew he would!” proachfully.

“And Fanny, too,” he added, in a fainter voice.

Mary turned about on hearing herself namcıl, and in a “ There was no need of that, either,” she returned : voice so dear to her; and in an instant found herself you love her,—that's enough!"

clasped in the arms of Lewellyn. “ Mary, dear Mary!" cried Lewellyn; but she had left To describe the incoherence either of grief or joy is ima the room.

possible: suffice, that Mary was at length able to arti. It so happened that a friend of mine was passing a bridge culate, “ We feared that you were dead !" near Lewellyn's native town as the regiment were crossing “ You see that I am not dead," replied Lewellyn ; " but it, in their way to the place whence they were to embark; I find that others are.” Here tears choked his voice ; bat, and, being obliged to stop to make way for them, his atten- recovering himself, he added, pointing to the grave of his tion was attracted by the violent and audible grief of Fanny, parents, “Oh, Mary! that was a sad sight for me! I have who was walking by the side of Lewellyn ; by the settled found much sorrow awaiting me." wo visible in his countenance, and by the still more touch. “ You know all, then ?” interrupted Mary with quickness ing, though quiet, distress expressed by Mary.

“ I know that I have lost both my parents: and I fear “Those two young women are that soldier's sister and my disobedience--my obstinacy-Tell me tell me, Mary, wife, I presume !" said my friend to a bystander.

did they forgive me, and leave me their blessing? Many, No, sir ;—one is his cousin, and the other his sweet- many a pang have I felt when I thought of my ingratitude heart," was the answer.

and disobedience in leaving them ; and in all niy hardships * Oh then, that pretty pale girl, who says nothing, but I have said to myself, Unnatural child! this is no more looks so very sad, -she is his mistress, I conclude ?” con- than you have well deserved.” tinued my friend.

“Dear, dear Lewellyn !" cried Mary, “du not grieve “Oh, no, sir,—she is only the cousin !" returned the man. yourself in this manner. If my son should ever return,'

“ I wish she had been the mistress !” observed my friend, they both of them said, and they were loath to believe you “for her grief seems to me to be of the more lasting nature." I would not, tell him,' were the words of cach of them,

Soon did Fanny forget her lover, though at first her grief that I prayed for and blessed him on my death-bed."". was violent. Again she was displaying her beautiful face 6 Thank God! thank God!" replied Lewelly: and for at military parades, and receiving the homage of her nu a few moments neither he nor Mary could speak. At merous admirers : yet she was pleased when letters came length Lewellyn said, “ Pray, whose pious hand has deckel from him from Holland. In the course of the winter his their grave with flowers ?” father died half-broken hearted, and his widow fell into a “I did it," answered Mary; and, as she said this, she kind of harmless insanity, in which she imagined her son thought she saw disappointment in the face of her cousin. was a great man; and every day she would be dressed to But her look was a transient one ; for she was careful not go out to meet him returning from battle and conquest. It to let her eyes dwell on Lewellyn's face, lest she should was only on her death-bed her senses returned ; and she wound his feelings, as the fate of war had sadly changed blessed the kind and attentive Mary, and with her left a him. His forehead was scarred, he wore a black patch on mother's blessing for her son. “ Ohi how happy I shall his right cheek, and his left arm was in a sling : besides be,” said Mary to herself, “ to tell him, should he ever re- fatigue, low living, and imprisonment had made him turn, that they blessed him in their dying moments.” scarcely recognisable, except by the eye of love and friend.

One evening, after they had been dead some months, and ship. He had been left for dead on the field of battle ; when Mary had, as usual, visited their graves to strew and, when life returned, he found himself in a French hosthem with fresh flowers (as is customary in many parts of pital, whence he was conveyed to a prison, and in due time Wales,) and weed the little garden which she had planted was released by a cartel. on them,-instead of returning home she sat herself down “ You see I am dreadfully altered,” said Lewellyn, obon a wooden bench at the entrance of the churchyard, serving that Mary watched her opportuuity of looking at which commanded a view of the town; and as she listened him _ “ I dare say you would scarcely have known me?" to the distant and varied sounds which reached her ear “I should know you any where, and in any disfrom the barracks, and a crowded fair about a mile distant guise,” said Mary warmly :-“ but you scem fatigued : let -time insensibly stole away, and, lost in her own thoughts, us go to my little lodging.” she was not conscious of the approach of a stranger, till he “I am faint and weary, indeed,” replieil he, accepting the had reached the bench and was preparing to sit down on it. arm which Mary offered to him as they walked towards

Mary started ;—but, with that untaught courtesy which the town : “ but I am come home to goud vurses, I trust, the benevolent always possess, she made room for the in-though one of them is dead” (drawing bis hand across his truder to sit down, by removing to the other side of the eyes as he said it ;)“ and my native air and the sight of all i seat. Neither of them spoke ; and Mary insensibly re- love, will, I doubt not, soon restore me to health.” newed her meditations. But at length the evident agita As he uttered these words he fixed his eyes steadfastly on tion and loud though suppressed sobs of the stranger at- Mary's face, which she hastily averted, and he felt her arm tracted her attention to him, and excited her compassion. tremble under his. “ Poor man!” thought Mary, “perhaps he has been visit “ Mary!" exclaimed he, suddenly stopping, “yon must ing the new-made grave of some dear friend :" and insen- guess the question which I am longing to ask, but dare not ; sibly she turned towards the unhappy stranger, expecting -Oh, these horrible forebodings !-Mary, why do you not to see him in deep mourning ; but he was wrapped up in a put an end to this suspense which tortures me?" great coat that looked like a regimental one. This made “She is well,” replied Mary, in a faint voice. Mary's pity even greater than before ; for, ever since Le “ And not--not married, I hope?". wellyn had enlisted, she had lost her boasted insensibility “Oh! no, no, no-not married," replied Mary. to soldiers and their concerns.

“ Thank God!" exclaimed Lewellyn, and Mary was about “ He is a soldier, too!” said Mary to herself: “ who to speak, when she was prevented by violent shouts and knows but—" Here the train of her ideas was suddenly bursts of laughter from persons approaching them the broken ; for an audible and violent renewal of the stran- path which

they were in being immediately across the road ger's distress so overset her feelings, already softened by her which led from the fair. visit to the grave of her relations and the recollections in “ Hark! I hear singing,” said Lewellyu, his whole frame which she had been indulging, that she could keep her seat trembling, “and surely

in a voice not unknown to me!" no longer: besides, conscious that true sorrow loves not to “ Nonsense !_impossible !” replied his agitated compsbe observed, she felt it indelicate to continue there: but, as nion, violently seizing his arm !*" But let us go another she slowly withdrew, she could not help saying in a falter- way.” ing and compassionate tone, “Good evening, sir-and Hea " I will go no way but this,” said Lewellyn, resolutely ; ven comfort you !"

and the voice began again to sing a song which, in happier At the sound of her voice the stranger started—“'Tis timea, had been often sung by Fanny, and admired by LA: she ! -'Tis

Mary!" he exclaimed, rushing towards her. I wellyn. “I thought so ;- it is Fanny who is singing."

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