"I am to leave Oxford to-morrow-I could not go without saying farewell.'

"To-morrow!-But why do you look so solemn, Mr. Dalton ?— You are quitting college for your vacation?'

66 6

Perhaps for ever, Miss Hesketh-and

"O Mr. Dalton, you have seen my uncle-you think he is very badly, I see you do-you think you shall never see him again, I know you think so!'

"No, 'tis not so; he has invited me to come back with you now; and besides, Mr Keith will get better-I hope, I trust, I am sure he will.'

"You would fain deceive me,' said Ellen, ' and 'tis kindly meant.' Nay, indeed, ma'am, I hope Mr. Keith has seen the worst of his illness. You did well to bring him to this fine air, this beautiful place.' "A beautiful place it is Mr. Dalton.'

It is a Paradise, but I shall never see it again. I look for the last time upon it—and almost-almost for the last time—upon you.'

"The young man shook from head to foot as these words were trembling upon his lips. She, too, threw her eyes on the ground, and a deep glow rushed over her face; but that was chased instantly by a fixed and solemn paleness, and her gaze once more met his.

"He advanced close to her (for hitherto he had not changed his position,) and leaned for a moment over the broken wall. His hasty hand had discomposed some loose stones, and a fragment of considerable size plunged into the dark stream below. Ellen thinking the whole was giving way, pulled him quickly backwards from the brink. He lost his balance, and involuntarily, and less by his own act than hers, he was on his knees before her.

"Rise up, Mr. Dalton-I pray you rise.

"I asked for nothing, Miss Hesketh, I hope for nothing, I expect nothing. But since I do kneel I will not rise till I have said it-I love you, Ellen-I have loved you long-I have loved you from the first hour I saw you. I never loved before, and I shall never love

another.'

"Mr. Dalton you are ill-you are sick-you are mad. This is no language for me to hear, nor for you to speak. Rise, rise, I beseech you.'

66 6

Ellen, you are pale, deadly pale-you tremble-I have hurt you, wretch that I am-I have wounded, pained, offended you.' Pained, indeed,' said Ellen, but not offended. You have filled me with sorrow, Mr. Dalton-I give you that and my gratitude More you do wrong in asking for; and if it had been otherwise, more I could not have given you.

"The calmness of her voice and words restored Reginald, in some measure, to his self-possession. He obeyed the last motion of her hand, and sprung at once to his feet. You called me mad, Miss Hesketh-'twas but for a moment.

"Ere he had time to say more, Miss Hesketh moved from the spot; and Reginald, after pausing for a single instant, followed, and walked across the monastic garden, close by her side-both of them preserved total silence. A deep flush mantled the young man's countenance all over-butere they had reached the gate, that had concentrated itself into one small burning spot of scarlet upon either cheek. She, with downcast eyes, and pale as monumental marble, walked steadily and rapidly;

6

while he, with long and regular strides, seemed to trample, rather than to tread the dry and echoing turf. He halted within the threshold of the ruined archway, and said, in a whisper of convulsive energy, ⚫ Halt, madam, one word more ere we part. I cannot go with you to Witham -you must say what you will to Mr. Keith. I have acted this day like a soundrel—a villain—you called it madness, but I cannot plead that excuse. No, madam, there was the suddenness, the abruptness of frenzy in the avowal-but the feeling had been nurtured and cherished in calmness, deliberately fostered, presumptuously and sinfully indulged. I had no right to love you; you behold a miserably weak and unworthy creature, who should not have dared to look on you. But 'tis done, the wound is here, and it never can be healed. I had made myself unhappy, but you have driven me to the desperation of agony.-Farewell, madam, I had nothing to offer you but my love, and you did well to reject the unworthy gift-my love! You may well regard it as an insult. Forget the moment that I never can forget-Blot, blot from memory the hour when your pure ear drank those poisonous sighs? Do not pity me-I have no right to love— and pity!—no, no-forget me, I pray you-forget me and my misery. And now, farewell once more-I am alone in the world.May God bless you-you deserve to be happy.'

"He uttered these words by the same deep whisper by which he had arrested her steps. She gazed on him while he spake, with an anxious eye and a glowing cheek-when he stopped, the crimson fleeted away all in an instant. Pale as death, she opened her white and trembling lips, but not a word could come. The blood rushed again over her cheek, brow and bosom, and tears, an agony of tears, streamed from her fixed and motionless eyes.

"Reginald, clasping his forehead, sobbed out, Thrice miserable! wretch! miserable wretch! I have tortured an angel!' He seized her hand, and she sunk upon the grass-he knelt over her, and her tears rained upon his hands. O God!' he cried, " why have I lived for this hour? Speak, Ellen-speak, and speak forgiveness.' Forgiveness!' she said- O mock me not Mr. Dalton! what have I to forgive?'

66 6

66 6

Forgive the words that were wrung from me in bitterness of soul-Forgive me forgive the passionate, involuntary cries of my mad anguish.'

66 6

Oh, sir, you grieve, you wound me !—you know not how you wound me. I am a poor helpless orphan, and I shall soon have no friend to lean to.-How can I listen to such words as you have spoken? I am grateful; believe my tears, I am grateful indeed.' Grateful! for the love of mercy, do not speak so-be calm, let me see you calm.'

66 6

66 6

How can I be calm? what can I say! Oh, Mr. Dalton, it is your wild looks that have tortured me, for I thought I had been calm!—Oh, sir, I pray you, be yourself-do not go from me thusI am young and friendless, and I know not what I should do or speak. -You, too, are young, and life is before you-and I hope happiness indeed I hope so."

66 6

Nay,' said Reginald, solemnly, not happiness-but I trust calmness to endure my misery. You may, but I cannot forget;' and with this his tears also flowed, for hitherto not one drop had eased his burning eye-lids.

"Neither for a few moments said any thing-at last, Ellen rubbed aside her tears with a hot and rapid hand-and Hear me,' she said, hear me, Mr. Dalton. We are both too young-we are both inexperienced-and we have both our sorrows, and we should both think of other things. Go, sir, and do your duty in the world; and if it will lighten your heart to know, that you carry with you my warmest wishes for your welfare, do take them with you. Hereafter there may come better days for us both, and then perhaps but no, no, sir, I know 'tis folly

"She bowed her head upon her knees he drew her hand to his lips, and kissed it, and wept upon it, and whispered as none ever whispered twice, and was answered with a silence more eloquent even than all the whispers in the universe.

"They sat together, their eyes never meeting, blushing, weeping, one in sorrow and one in joy. Thoughts too beautiful for words, thoughts of gentlest sadness, more precious than bliss, filled them both, and gushed over and mingled in their slow calm tears.

"An hour passed away, and there they were still speechless-the tears indeed had ceased to flow, and their cheeks had become as pale as their love was pure-but the fulness of their young hearts was too rich for utterance-and all seemed so like a dream, that neither had dared, even by a whisper, to hazard the dissolving of the dear melancholy charm."

ANCIENT FUNERALS.

LUCIAN, speaking of the funerals of the ancients, says, "After the nearest relation has received a dead person, and closed his eyes, his next business is to put a piece of money into his mouth to pay the ferryman of hell, who is Charon; but he never considers whether it be money that is current in that country, so that in my opinion he had better give him nothing than that he should be constrained to send it back again. After this ceremony he washes the body of the dead person with warm water, as if there were no water below, or that he were to assist at a festival, at his first arrival. Besides this, he perfumes him, crowns him with flowers, and puts him on his best clothes, either because they fear he will die of cold by the way, or that otherwise he will not be treated according to his quality. All is accompanied with complaints and mourning, tears and sobs, to agree with the master of the ceremony, who orders all matters, and recites with such a mournful voice all his former calamities, that it would make them weep if they had never seen him. Then some tear their hair, others beat their breasts, or scratch their faces, some rend their clothes and cast dust upon their heads, or fall down upon the ground, or throw themselves against the walls. So that the dead man is the most happy of all the company, for while his friends and relations torment themselves, he is set in some eminent place, washed, cleansed, perfumed, and crowned, as if he were to go into company. When the body is laid upon the pile of wood to be burnt, some person opens his eyes, as if it were to make him look up to heaven, and having called him several times with a loud voice, his next relation sets fire to the pile of wood with a torch, turning his back upon it, to shew that he does that service for the dead with regret."

FATAL ERRORS AND FUNDAMENTAL TRUTHS, illustrated in a Series of Narratives and Essays. London: Baldwin, Cradock and Joy. 1824.

THIS book, we are told in its introduction, was penned by a deceased lady, who is called Corinna, She is represented as the wife of a faithless husband, for whom she entertained to the last, a deep and unalterable affection; under the influence of which she composed a letter, breathing the amiable spirit displayed in the following extract:

"I pray you to pardon me, my husband, many occasional petulences and harshnesses, which I recall with the bitterest remorse, when I reflect how they alloyed the felicity which should have attended our once blessed union. Believe me, never, never was my heart tainted with one thought that it would wish to conceal from you. I acknowledge, with deep regret, that my attachment for you had the character of a passion too intense and absorbing, that I ought to have regulated it better, that it may have been too selfish and exacting, that I required much, very much, from you, and that my disappointment was the natural result of miscalculation, and of unfounded, because exorbitant hope. Forgive me this wrong, by the memory of our early love."

We are told, that" when the pen dropped from her nerveless hand, it was discovered that the exertions she had made in tracing the last paragraph, had materially enfeebled her." She called on the name: of her husband, prayed for him, and expired.

Whether these circumstances be true or fictitious, it is out of our power, as it is out of our province, to decide: the merits of the work, and not the condition of its author, being the fit subject of the critic's animadversions. These Essays and Narratives are all more or less of a serious nature: some of them are highly religious, and those most so, are somewhat rhapsodical; but others are of a more sober cast, and while they inculcate precepts beneficial for men of all persuasions, are not so likely as the former, to deter mere worldings from bestowing their attention upon them. The Essay upon "Principle" evinces some depth of thinking and knowledge of life. The subject of " The Sabbath" is very well treated; and so is that of "Ministerial Duties." The tale of "The Young Clergyman" is interesting, though it has too much the appearance of a parable, introduced for the sake of admonishing the clergy of our Establishment-a task which is pretty freely undertaken, now-a-days, by the laity of both sexes.

"At the house of my friend G- I once passed a memorable sabbath-day. He warned me, in the morning, that the son of the late venerable rector would preach his first sermon, and read the appointed offices of the church. I remembered to have been pleased with his father some few years previous, and I felt immediately interested in the character of the son. I hastened, therefore, to the church, under the dominion of those softening sentiments of devotion and kuman kindness, which naturally render the heart susceptible of favourable impressions.

My first glance at Essex conveyed to my mind a sentiment of admiration. It was not his person, though the critic of beauty might perhaps have found there a subject of delightful contemplation-it was the emotions so legibly depicted on his countenance. Beneath the gravity which was its predominating characteristic, I thought I could trace that tender remembrance of paternal affection, which the scene around was so calculated to awaken. The eye was cast down resolutely, but without affectation; the lip was compressed, but it trembled. His step was firm, indicating that his thoughts were rather on the

objects of his mission, than on the manner of walking down the aisle. His dress, be it remembered that such minutiæ reveal the real character more fully than stronger features, because in such points the man is unguarded,— his dress verged neither upon coxcombry nor puritanical plainness; it affected neither singularity nor fashion. On entering the reading-desk, he knelt down and when he arose, the glow of devotion had superseded earthly feelings, and bloomed beautifully on his youthful face. He had evidently risen above himself, and entered into the presence of his God.

"All the best feelings of his heart were interested in the successful performance of his duty. My friend directed my attention to the pew over against us. There sat his widowed mother, whose earthly hope was bound to him, and whose tearful eye beamed with images of the past which thronged into the present: here was his betrothed wife, trembling and anxious, yet happy and tender; with a changing cheek, and an eye only upraised at intervals; yet sometimes her countenance was illuminated by all the serenity of perfect confidence in the strength of the beloved one before her. Around was a congregation, all impressed with curiosity, but not equally. Some remembered his father, and wished that the early promise of the son might give earnest that that father would be revived; some were there of pious habits, who were anxious to estimate the abilities, and to penetrate the religious principles, of the youthful tyro; some were there to criticise and ridicule, anxious to detect error and to indulge sarcasm at mistake. But it seemed that for all these his charity was kindled; he was there on a high mission; and as love of God was the source of his love of man, so the original sentiment contributed to render its effect more ardent. He felt that his office was that of bringing souls to the fold of the eternal Shepherd.

"The service commenced; his voice was somewhat tremulous as he began the deprecatory sentence, Enter not into judgment with thy servant, Oh Lord!' but it gradually strengthened, and had regained clearness and equality before he had finished the concluding clause. It was a fine full-toned tenor; well modulated, but entirely free from all affected cadences, or any thing that could possibly be exaggerated into an aim at theatrical effect; if its sounds were fine, and its intonations touching, these were the 'careless beauties' resulting from habit, and from a deep feeling and accurate conception of the appropriateness of the service. Very few clergymen do justice to our Liturgy, that compilation of the most sublime devotion. Never till now had I felt, in my inmost soul, the glorious comprehensiveness of the Te Deum laudamus.' The ascription of praise, in union with all the earth,' with all angels,'' the heavens, and all the powers therein,' with cherubim and seraphim,' is made to the Lord God of Sabaoth,' the Trinity being indicated by the repetition of the appropriate term 'holy;' to this tri-une Divinity, the 'glorious company of the apostles,'' the goodly fellowship of the prophets,' the noble army of martyrs,' are said to give praise; the three persons are then declared to be acknowledged by the holy church throughout all the world,' by their appropriate designations of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.' Then the Son alone, contemplated by man as the more immediate agent of his salvation, is addressed; his manifestation in the flesh, his resumption of his original glory and his native seat, immediately precede the inimitable simplicity of that sublime sentence, We believe that thou shalt come to be our judge. We therefore pray thee help thy servants: whom thou hast redeemed with thy precious blood.' Here the object of our terror-judgment, is made the cause of our prayer for help, which is enforced by the plea of that promise which the death of Christ ensured. Then follow supplicatory sentences and assurances of worshipthan which nothing can be more comprehensive, and which properly conclude this most sublime form of praise and prayer. As I listened to the youth before me, I questioned whether I had ever before perceived half its beauties, and I silently ejaculated a hope, that none might henceforward read this composition, who, not having the proper feeling of it himself, could not make it penetrate the hearts of others.

6

·

"The prayers ended; I confess I felt some trepidation, lest his sermon should disappoint the hopes his reading had excited. Happily approbation was heightened into a warmer feeling; as I went along with him in his discourse, I seemed