shepherd boy, accidentally passing, heard, what he considered, unearthly moans issuing from among the trees; and though this was sufficient to deter others from frequenting the place, there were not wanting those who affirmed that the sounds were to be heard there nightly. The credulity of the people, on the first appearance of the stranger, disposed them to consider her as something supernatural: the old viewed her from a distance, and the young sedulously shunned her path. A few days, however, served to undeceive them; they traced her to the cottage of an aged widow, and, having discovered that she was perfectly harmless, though, alas! not an accountable being, they learned to pityin some measure to love her. There was, in her aspect and manner, an evidence of superior education; her language, no less than the tone of her voice, bespoke an acquaintance with the higher walks of life; and though her clothes were worn, and somewhat scanty, the texture was such as never forms the dress of the daughters of poverty. Her hair hung negligently about her face, and over her head she wore a shawl which descended on her shoulders; her feet were bare, and the injuries which the stones and brambles that beset her path inflicted on them was another proof that they were unused to such rough usage. Neglect, however, could not conceal the natural beauty of her features; though her cheeks were wan, and her eyes dimmed as if with constant weeping, enough remained to indicate youth and loveliness, which seemed to struggle with an overpowering melancholy. There was, too, about her a gentleness which appeared the result of long indulgence in habits of humanity and kindness: and when she sang, in strains wild and incoherent, which was not very often, those who chanced to hear her were convinced that she had been blessed with other instruction than usually falls to the lot of the majority of females. Though known not to evince anger she shunned the obtrusive gaze of the rustics; and never left the cottage of her aged hostess but when on her daily visit to the valley, where she remained apparently absorbed in re

flection. A particular spot was strewn over with those wild flowers which she had collected during her walk, and the few who ventured to pry into the place during her presence there alleged that the scented herbage was constantly watered with her tears.

This served to increase that curiosity which the novelty of her appearance excited. Some declared that she was the daughter of a Highland laird; others believed that she was a southern, and one or two asserted that she was the only daughter of Major Hamilton, the proprietor of the surrounding country. They were positive in this opinion; they had seen her during the few days she had spent, a year or two before, at her father's mansion in the neighbourhood, and distinctly. recollected her features. Her residence with the widow seemed to strengthen this conjecture, for it was known that Alice Gordon had once been in the service, in the capacity of nurse, of the major, on whose bounty she now lived. Alice, however, on being questioned, flatly denied that Daft Ellen, as the strange lady was called by the rustics, in consequence of her answering to that name, was the child of her benefactor; ridiculed the idea, and recalled to the recollection of her neighbours the report which had long prevailed that Miss Hamilton had been married to a Hungarian count. This was perfectly satisfactory; all were convinced but the propagators of the opinion; and they were about, in vindication of their superior discernment, to prove the truth of their assertions by interrogatories addressed to the lady herself, when Daft Ellen suddenly disappeared, no one knowing how or wherefore. Alice would not, or could not, satisfy the inquiries of the curious.

All inquiries after the Innocent,' as she was sometimes called, soon ceased, and Daft Ellen had been nearly forgotten, when, after an interval of ten years, she suddenly appeared, towards the decline of autumn, at her former haunt. Her appearance was sadly altered: her step was no longer firm; her dress indicated great negligence; and every thing about her intimated a mind irrecoverably deranged. Her features, once so

pleasingly harmonious, had undergone a great change; the lineaments of beauty had entirely disappeared: and a premature old age was distinctly visible. Those who watched her approaches to the haunted valley described her manner as hurried; and, when she reached the spot which seemed to contain something which she greatly loved, she burst out into violent lamentations. But the curiosity of those who witnessed her anguish being satiated, they retired, without having made any effort to withdraw her from the place. The wretched creature was left to fill the air with her moans, and the melancholy relief which she found in giving vent to the sorrows which devoured her heart, detained her in the dell until morning. The night had been intensely cold; a bitter frost had covered the earth, and her thin garments and debilitated frame offered but feeble resistance to the harvest dew and the piercing air. A neighbouring cottager discovered her, soon after day-break, stretched on the ground; life was almost extinct, but the active humanity of the peasant soon restored her to sensibility. He carried her to his home; his wife applied some simple cordials, and Daft Ellen once more opened her lips. A flood of tears followed this evidence of returning animation; but it was soon evident that her days were numbered, and that the flood of life was ebbing fast. Her look was no longer wild or vacant; her words were devoid of their usual incoherency, and those who attended quickly discovered that, as her physical strength decayed, her mind resumed its wonted energy.

A conviction of this sort seemed to flash upon herself; and, when conscious of returning reason, she lifted up her soul in gratitude to heaven. 'How merciful,' she said mildly, to make me sensible of existence when on the threshold of eternity; to give me rational ideas would be to make me miserable, were not the gift accompanied with the announcement which I well understand, that the world is about to recede from my view. God, in his goodness, made life endurable by making it to me visionary: I have lived in dreams, and I bless

the hand that smote me. But my heart, though it hardly beats, is still rebellious,--it recalls the image of my murdered

The associations which the name she was about to pronounce called up were too much for her mental strength. She gave a wild scream of anguish and sank upon her bed; a fearful struggle, between life and death, ensued; and, after a momentary effort, she ceased to live.

The manner of her death did not help to diminish the mystery in which she had been involved; and her allusion to murder indicated something fearful. A magistrate was sent for, and Alice was summoned into his presence. She was now tottering on the verge of the grave, but the sight of the corpse seemed to communicate to her a renewal of her strength: she sprung forward, and wildly embraced it, exclaiming, all the while, my child, my child.' Her efforts soon overcame her; she was carried out into the air, and, when somewhat restored, she related the history of Daft Ellen. Concealment, she observed, was no longer necessary; the persons most deeply interested in the fate of Ellen were no more, and the fair domain of her ancestors had already passed into other hands.

Ellen was the only daughter of Major Hamilton. That gentleman, having married an English lady of rank and fortune, resided principally in London. They had two sons, and only one daughter, and the care of this favourite child was committed to Alice Gordon, one of the few Scottish servants who were retained in the family. The education of Ellen was such as a lady of her expectations required. She was learned in all female accomplishments, and, as she approached the years of womanhood, many solicited the honour of her hand. These suitors she treated as fashionable suitors are generally treated by young ladies of wit and beauty, and she was on the point of being set down as a coquette, when it was observed that a young gentleman, named Roswell, about whom little was known, and who chanced to meet her at the French ambassador's ball,

had made an impression upon her. She became less volatile, and seemed less charmed with those busy rounds of gaiety in which she formerly delighted. In the presence of her lover, however, her usual spirits returned, and, in his absence, that tender melancholy, so natural to those who love, took possession of her. At this critical period her mother died, and, being left without that natural superintendence which no friendship or mercenary care can supply, Ellen indulged the natural bent of her inclination, and gave her heart unreservedly to Roswell.

It was some time before her father and brothers were apprized of the state of her feelings; and, on discovering that the object of her choice had nothing to recommend him but his sword, and the rank of lieutenant in the regiment, their anger knew no bounds. Their vanity prompted them to seek a more noble alliance; and the accomplishments, beauty, and fortune of Ellen, warranted them in looking forward to her union with some one of more illustrious connexion. Their rashness, however, only served to strengthen her in her resolution; and, from hasty expressions which she thoughtlessly let fall, they apprehended that she would elope with her lover. To prevent such a proceeding they bethought of their seat in Scotland, and hither, at a short notice, they proceeded. It was the first time the mansion had been honoured with the presence of its owner for many years, and the novelty of the scene helped to divert Ellen from the chagrin which she felt on being so abruptly hurried from the presence of her lover.

She had not been many days, however, in Scotland, when Roswell suddenly made his appearance, and, having communicated with her, through her nurse, Alice, she consented to give an interview in the valley which has been already described. Although still glowing with the warmest sentiments of regard she was no longer bent on any hasty or premature course of action. She did not love Roswell the less, but she wisely thought that deference was due to parental authority,