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much to your grief.

Pray do you leave Bath soon ?Gawky—Yes, I shall leave Bath to-morrow; and I mean to spend the whole of this day with you, Ned, in order to get rid of my melancholy for the loss of poor Mary.--Now heaven forefend, said Edward, mentally, that this booby should annoy me by his company in my present situation :he, therefore, bowed to the baronet, and said,—You will have the goodness to excuse me, Sir George, but I am engaged this evening.–Gawky_Well, then, Ned, if you be engaged, I be

sorry for it, because I do not very well know what to do with myself the rest of the day; however, I'll sing you a song, as I learned on the very day as my vather died; but you must vurst tell I what your servant's name be?-Edward-His name is Robert Trusty.—Gawky—What, Robert with an R?Edward—Yes, Sir George, and Trusty with a T.—Here-upon, the baronet, without any invitation on Edward's part, struck


and roared out: “ Altho' I be a handsome man, I be a gay deceiver." These words were delivered in tones so barbarous and discordant, that a little terrier dog, which lay sleeping on Edward's hearth-rug, alarmed at the noise, awakened, flew at, and fastened upon the baronet behind.-Oh! what shall I do, what shall I do? Oh Lord, oh Lord !-roared out Gawky in dire dismay,—that there nasty dog will bite all the flesh off my bones, good now.-Edward, with his finger and thumb applied to the dog's throat, instantly extricated Gawky from danger, and putting the little animal out of the room, said, -I am very sorry, Sir George, to see, that my dog has no more manners than to attack his master's company so rudely; but I hope, that he has not hurt you.

At this the baronet went to the looking-glass, and carefully examined what injury he had received ; at length, he said, that there dog have not bit I, to be sure ; but, good now, he have a torn my breeches and shirt uncommon, that's what he have. Edward I am very glad, that you are not really hurt; as for the rest, it is merely nothing.-Gawky-nothing ! nothing isn't it? I say nothing too; why the dog have teared out a great piece of my breeches behind, besides tearing my shirt into the bargain ; why the breeches, good now, be black

any one of

satin, as I bought but last week on purpose to go into mourning for my vather; and as for my shirt, it is one of my very best ruffled lace shirts; and that, let me tell you, master Ned, is no trifling loss.-Edward-you may send for my tailor in street, and he shall make you another pair of black satin small clothes, at my cost; and you may

take my ruffled, lace shirts, that pleases you best.

Here Edward rang the bell, and ordered his servant to send for his tailor to measure the baronet, and, also, to provide him with a shirt; he then said—Sir George, you will amuse yourself in my study, and excuse my leaving you, as I am engaged. He, then, left the baronet, who waited till the tailor and valet had furnished him with what he wanted ; and, then, he departed, well pleased to think that, instead of losing, he had, actually, gained by the attack of the dog upon

his rear ; for, in addition to the apparel, which he obtained at Edward's cost, he put his own shirt and small-clothes into his pocket, in order to have them mended for farther use.

Edward, immediately, repaired to his father, and told him that he must endeavour to calm the agony of his heart, by wandering alone for a while. His father, who feared, from Edward's wild and haggard aspect, that his son's brain would wither, readily consented to a measure, which appeared likely to effect the desired end. Accordingly, Ned made directly for the highlands of Scotland, in order to behold nature in all her rugged grandeur, where she reared her head in wild and sullen majesty, presenting scenes congenial to the emotions of his saddened soul.

He travelled down to Leith, and passed over the Frith of Forth into the kingdom of Fyfe, directing his march along the sea shore, musing upon her, who was, for ever lost to him. On his road to St. Andrews, he came to Wemys' castle, the seat of General Wemys; the romantic, retired, lonely, lovely situation of the castle ; its spires and turrets, peeping out from between the old and lofty leafy tenants of the soil ; its secret winding walks; its rude, unpolished, rustic seats, embosomed in the deep recesses of the wood; the solemn stillness all around, save the gentle beating of the waves against the shore ; all conspired to sooth the anguish of Ed

ward's heart, while he exclaimed, in the words of his favour ite bard.

“ These are the haunts of meditation, these
The scenes, where antient bards inspiring breath
Ecstatic drew; and, from this world retir'd,

Convers’d with angels, and immortal forms." Edward roamed onward till he reached the height, which commanded the view of the town of Kirk-Largo beneath ; where the wood, the lawn, and some elegant mansions, half concealed amid the trees, the town at a little distance, and, beyond all, filling up the back ground, lofty mountains terminating his view ; mountains, on whose tops rested the mild, serene, but inimitable aud inexpressible sky-tints of a lovely autumnal evening ; gave new life unto his frame, and raised the blended emotions of delight and of anguish in his heart, when he recalled to his recollection, that it was just such an evening, when in the preceding autumn, he had sate with his Mary on the brow of a hill near her guardian's house, and, with her, his arm encircling her slender waist, had gazed upon the setting sun, whose declining orb, slowly wheeling towards the west, was then gilding the woods and distant hills that bounded the horizon of their view.

With solitary steps and slow, brooding in all the bitterness of a wounded spirit, on the memory of her, whom he loved, Edward strode over the burning marle of this waste and wilderness of life ; till his attention was called from the scene within his bosom, to survey the stupendous prospect all around. On one side, the eye was lost in the boundless bosom of the deep, for there Germania's broad blue ocean mixes with the sky; the Frith of Forth presented to his view a huge expanse of water, beyond which he could just discern, dimmed and obscured by the distance, the city of Edinburgh, the lofty hill called Arthur's seat, and, beyond all the long range of the Pentland mountains. On the other hand appeared a vast extent of country, in some places cultivated, but mostly consisting of high hills, either quite bare and naked, or affording a scanty pasture to a few half-starved ragged sheep; with, here and there, a division, that opened to his sight the extended ridges of the highlands, whose heads, enveloped in eternal mist, lost themselves in the clouds.


In the after-noon of a very sultry day Edward reached the town of St. Andrews. After resting a while at an inn, he went out to survey the library of the united college, a spacious and elegant room, richly furnished with books ;-adorned by a bust of the present sovereign of the British empire, and, also, by a bust of Robertson the historian : this apartment was likewise illuminated by a gorgeous display of the genealogy of the Scottish kings ; a melancholy monument of the fleeting forms of human greatness; a monument, which might read a useful lesson to royalty, even in the midst of all its power ; might teach it so to number its days as to apply its heart unto wisdom, justice and mercy.

Edward, then, paced the ruins of the cathedral, an awful specimen of the desolation, which the madness of fanatic enthusiasm can effect. He stood on the point of a rock, which gave him a full view of the cathedral's ruins, vast, awful, and magnificent, and, now, more particularly impressive as the fast approach of the shades of night threw a darker, browner horror over all the objects of his view ; for here, the pilgrim oft

“ At dead of night, 'midst his orisons hears,
Aghast, the voice of time, disparting towers,
Tumbling, all precipitate, down dash'd,
Rattling aloud, loud thundering to the moon."-

“ To some, yon abbey, dank and lone,
Where ivy chains each mouldering stone,
That nods o'er many a martyr's tomb,
May cast a formidable gloom ;
But Edward, musing, free from fear,
Could wander through the cloisters drear;
Could rove each desolated aisle,
Though midnight thunders shook the pile :
And dauntless view, or seem to view,
As faintly flash the lightnings blue,
Thin, shivering ghosts from yawning charnels throng,
And glance, with silent sweep, the shaggy vaults along."

Edward's mind was impressed with a reverential awe; and filled with a calm, serene, and holy melancholy, he turned,

with satisfaction and with complacency, to survey the broad expanse of the great German ocean, on whose gently-undulating bosom hung a mass of clouds, dark, lowering, gloomy, and terrific. He stood alone, no creature was nigh, no voice of merriment was heard, no murmur, no sound, not even the sighing of the breeze, nought but the rough cadence of the dashing wave.

As Edward still stood on the summit of the rock, against whose base the unwearied billows ever beat, with his eye intently gazing on the ocean, his distempered imagination saw a thin, light form rise from the bosom of the oozy deep; it floated, in silent, solemn pomp, along the surface of the swelling wave; it ascended slowly over the summit of that rock where Edward stood ; it was his Mary's wan and shadowy form ; dim, and in tears, she rode in the murky mist : and as she passed, she stretched her pale hand over Edward's head ; her cheek was whiter than the driven snow; her

eyes were lustreless and hollow ; her fair form, fading, drooped; with noiseless and inaudible foot-steps, she glided athwart the airy regions of the vaulted sky, and, then, for ever, vanished from her lover's sight.

Edward, in wild and delirious agony, threw himself on the ground, and poured out the effusions of his anguished, lacerated heart, in deep and piercing tones.

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“ Thou lingering star, with lessening ray,

That lov'st to greet the early morn,
Again thou usher’st in the day,
My Mary from my soul was torn.

“Oh Mary, dear, departed shade,

Where is thy blissful place of rest?
See'st thou thy lover lowly laid,

Hear'st thou the groans, that rend his breast?


“ Can I that sacred hour forget,

Can I forget the hallowed grove,
Where by the winding stream we met,

To live one day of parting love.

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