P. 136, et seq., for "Le Coupet de la Diligence," read "Le

Coupé de la Diligence."

P. 187, line 8 from top, for dérangé read dérangée.

THE LINESMAN.

CHAPTER I.

EARLY REMINISCENCES.

"Those recollected hours that have the charm
Of visionary things, those lovely forms
And sweet sensations that throw back our life,
And almost make remotest infancy

A visible scene, on which the sun doth shine!"
WORDSWORTH.

How strange, how dim and fitful, are the first dawning recollections of infancy's earliest stage! Like brief flashes of summer lightning, illumining at uncertain intervals the surrounding chaotic void of entire oblivion, or of obscurely shadowed facts, these coruscations of memory unaccountably emit and

VOL. I.

B

spread the most brilliant rays of light over uncertain spaces of the illimitable past, which, like sun-lit landmarks beheld from some vessel on a stormy sea, stand conspicuously forth amidst the surrounding clouds. Then we lose sight of land; another promontory soon looms in sight, only again to disappear; hence a succession of faint "dissolving views," till the bright sun of reason sheds its rays upon the scene, and, brightening up the past, enables it to be portrayed with ever increasing vividness and truth.

Ignis-fatuus-like,” my earliest recollections thus flit from stage to stage through dreamy mists, amidst the dark, undefined solitudes of bygone years; but the first occurrence which I clearly can recall, is with a strange distinctness still impressed upon my mind, strongly contrasting with that vague uncertainty, attending the reminiscence of previous and even of succeeding events of far more recent date.

I can at this moment, whilst peering through the lengthened vista of the past, be

hold distinctly, as though visibly portrayed, the outline of a small and unpretending abode, whose rustic beauty is concealed by tall evergreens bordering the well-kept lawn, bounded by a neat white paling, which separates it from the public road, whence a gravel walk leads to the trellised porch, embowered amidst flowering shrubs and plants, liberally dispensing their fragrant treasures to the balmy air; for summer appears there to reign in all its pride.

The sun shines brightly through a cloudless sky, under which the surrounding evergreens glitter undisturbed, whilst the lighter foliage appears to tremble with delight at the joyous carol of the feathered tribes, or under the genial influence of the light, soft breeze, so gently toying amidst its verdant depths.

Such is the scene which, after the long lapse of

years, stands out in bold relief on the canvas of my mind, in colours of fresher, brighter, and less-faded hues, than many a picture of far more recent date.

Suddenly, as in the desert "mirage," a

change comes over the still and quiet spirit of this peaceful scene: a figure, clad in martial, in unusual garb, rapidly advances along the gravelled path. Startled at this unexpected sight, I hastily, with my little sister-playmate, prepare to fly; when my mother, springing across the lawn, throws herself, with a loud cry, into the stranger's arms. Then, with true childish instinct, rushing to her help, I instantly set up a hideous yell, the vehemence of which increases as I am seized, and held up in this stranger's powerful grasp.

Such are the first reminiscences of my ear-
Of events immediately succeeding

liest years.

I have not the slightest remembrance, and can but vaguely recall many other subsequent happy scenes of infancy and domestic bliss. Next a dark cloud overshrouds the scene, which now appears most gloomy, chaotic, and confused.

I had apparently long since lost sight of the smiling little cottage, with its many attractive charms: that first vision impressed upon my infant mind, which now seemingly