For

table had been formed for the purpose of discussing that important feature in the village-a new neighbour. The white cottage was taken; which, for twelve months had remained untenanted, and deprived the Pry's of one of their strongholds of amusement. For it so chanced, that White Cottage had always something inexplicably odd about its inmates. The last inhabitant had puzzled curiosity by the impenetrable mystery which pervaded all his movements for the six months that he resided amongst us-neither his name, age, or his pursuit, were ever ascertained. he kept himself entirely secluded, and lived at, and left Mayfield, only known as the Gentleman in Black! And now his successor promised to perpetuate his crime of impenetrability. Hitherto she had become familiar to her neighbours only under the descriptive epithet of the Lady in White. Now really this was too much for a village with prying propensities like Mayfield to bear; consequently an extreme line of conduct was resorted to. The post-mistress was bribed the gardener suborned; and I verily believe it would have made the fortune of the laundress, if she would have consented to tell the initials on the linen committed to her care; but all attempts in that quarter failed. She shook her head significantly, when questioned, and gave that most tantalizing answer, that "time would show;" but time passed on, and did not show. And the conclave had met this evening at my aunt's tea-table, to deliberate on future proceedings against the unhappy girl, whom her neighbours were charitably disposed to believe possessed of every evil inclination, because circumstances compelled her to a temporary assumption of secrecy. The council were in the act of debate, when to their unmixed wonder, they perceived the object of their speculation advancing up the avenue which led to my aunt's house. Every eye was turned to the window, and their curiosity received a new impetus, from the discovery, which a nearer view afforded of her exquisite beauty, which blended all

the freshness of girlhood, with the full developed luxuriance of " woman in her summer of life." She was announced as Mrs. Beauchamp. Her name then was achieved! She requested a few moments private conversation with my aunt; it was of course acceded to, and we awaited the result of the interview, which to our thinking was one of interminable length, with breathless anxiety. At last it ended; Mrs. Beauchamp departed, and my aunt entered, with a countenance full of intelligence and smiles. A few moments sufficed for explanation. Rosa Beauchamp was the god-daughter of my aunt, but since the age of nine years, had resided on the continent, where she had merged her former name of Roomsworth into her present matrimonial one of Beauchamp. During the few days which followed their arrival in England from abroad, Captain Beauchamp had unfortunately quarrelled with a brother officer, which led to a challenge and duel. His adversary fell, and his life was despaired of, and Beauchamp, in a state of mind bordering on frenzy, committed himself to the guidance of his wife, to hide himself where she pleased. She fixed on Mayfield, the home of her childhood. Engaged in her service her ci-devant nurse, now the laundress of the village. And through her agency the white cottage was taken and prepared for them; and in that very retreat, unsuspected by the acutest of the Pry's, had Captain Beauchamp remained concealed, during the tedious weeks his adversary lay vacillating between life and death. He was now pronounced convalescent, and Rosa eagerly took the first opportunity of renewing her acquaintanceship with my old aunt, and terminating all the surmises which the generosity of her neighbours had indulged in, and proving to their utter discomfiture (and eventually to their reformation, for they gave up their occupation in despair) that when two women resolve to keep a secret, not a whole village of Pry's is sufficient to penetrate it.

ELIZA WALker.

ONE of the most extraordinary instances of delusion which ever came under my observation, was presented in the person of young Edward N- The name of insanity, in the minds of most people, is connected with ideas of delirium and danger, of the barred cell, or shaded apartment, nearly as awful to the chilled soul of the spectator as the chamber of death itself. Those, however, whose mental aberrations are glaring to all, form but a small part of the many who, although mingling in society, and conforming to its ceremonies, are nevertheless haunted by some dreadful thought, some apparition in the shape of a fancy, which they are unable to banish, and which, in reality, constitutes a lunacy as distinct, and perhaps as dangerous, as that of the raving wretch whose peals of hysteric laughter are heard mingling with the clank of his chains. Edward was not my intimate friend, but I had known and admired him. His health was not apparently impaired, and he had never dreamed of requiring my professional aid, although he was naturally of that nervous and irritable state of body and mind which most easily falls a prey to hypochondriacal imaginations. His talents were dazzling—indeed brilliantly so; and after having completed a very finished course of classical education, he had entered upon the study of the legal profession with the ardour of youth and conscious genius. In person I never knew any more perfectly noble; and his manners exercised a fascinating influence over every circle. He was the ornament, the charm, the life of every company. I never saw in any one perceptions of the beautiful more continually awake. I had gained some insight into his character, however, which surprised me, by some stanzas shown me, and ascribed to him. They were totally irreconcilable with his general liveliness of demeanour, and seemed poured forth in an agonizing spirit of wretchedness, which I could scarcely contemplate with unmoistened eyes.

One evening I accompanied him to a rather brilliant fête at B.'s. Habituated as I was to his animated manner in society, even I was astonished at the per

petual sparkles of wit and merriment, which drew upon him the eyes of all present. As he stood by the piano, in the act of singing, I was struck with his lofty and elegant form, the expression which flashed from his large black eyes, and the mellow richness and perfect sweetness of his voice. A fair young girl, who had been gazing with a dangerous earnestness, blushed as she perceived I noticed her; and yet, with a look of glowing admiration, whispered me, while the lids of her glistening eyes drooped, as if she was saying something which she felt to the innermost core of her heart.

"Edward N. ought to be the happiest man in the world."

The next morning I was called in to see him. I absolutely started on beholding his fine countenance, now unlighted by any expression but that of a dim weariness, an apathy, as of one sick of life. I had never yet thus accompanied him behind the scenes, and as I took his dry, feverish hand, and felt his pulse, he read my astonishment in my looks, and said,

Oh, a slight shower," he answered. "But that was not till late; beside, you returned in a carriage."

Ay, doctor, but I walked out again." "Walked out again!" exclaimed I. "What! after two o'clock, and those heated rooms! Walk out again in a shower? You deserve some pain for such carelessness. What was the matter? Any accident?"

He raised his languid eyes.

"Doctor, I have often had a mind to confess to you, but, somehow or other, a fear, a silly fear, has prevented me.' "Confess! What?"

His face assumed an expression of horror, and a momentary paleness overspread it.

"Doctor, I am a wretch! a blighted, scathed outcast; life is a curse. Since Providence first created man, this puny creature, this reptile, this basest and meanest of all his productions; he never formed one so low so unfortunate, so—”

"walk

66

"To-morrow! he echoed bitterly and sarcastically; merry-oh, yes. This is a momentary feeling, I suppose. This withering agony, which has rankled in my bosom for years.

Oh no, doctor;

the flashes of brief cheerfulness, which you have noticed in society, are a species of intoxication; wine, women, the upspringing of the mind from protracted and gloomy depression-the natural brightness of my nature gleaming out fitfully; but, when the excitement has passed away, heavens! the slimy toad in the dungeon, the hideous light-hating owl, are not more lonely, dark, and miserable than I."

"And for what, pray, Edward?" said I, smiling.

My incredulity appeared to vex him, and to urge him on to be more communicative than he had at first purposed.

"Doctor, I am labouring under a curse-a hideous, blasting, unshunnable ban from some demon. It follows me like a shadow, every where, every where, every where. It crosses me in all my plans. It falls like a thunderbolt on all my budding hopes. Every thing I undertake fails; every one I love dies or turns traitor. I have knelt down and prayed that the lightning might strike me, that disease might touch me, or that some sudden accident might break this nightmare dream of existence."

I at once perceived my friend was sadly afflicted with hypochondriacism. "And how long have you supposed yourself so unfortunate ?”

"Since my boyhood-it has ever been thus. I am permitted to hope, to believe myself happy. The most delicious and tempting prospects are spread out before my eyes, but when I would approach, just as I have, or as I think I have reached the summit of my desires, the demon strikes-wrenches my heartstabs, stabs with a dagger, which agonizes for ever, but cannot kill."

I endeavoured to persuade him of the impossibility of his suspicion. I urged that all human beings were subject to

"Go abroad," continued I; forth through the churchyard. It is crowded with mossy stones and stately monuments. The names of sweet women and children, of fathers and mothers; all are written there in melancholy silence. Each one of those has wrenched fond hearts, has left wrecked hopes and affections. Thousands throng the streets of this great city, whose souls yearn for that unbroken repose; beside, in dwelling too intensely upon your miseries, you overlook innumerable blessings. Every body believes you to be happy. You have health, education, personal advantages, accomplishments, youth, and

wealth.

He smiled mournfully.

"Alas, alas! What are these when the heart is a void. All these I could despise, if in their stead I possessed affections, occupied and successful. But the curse of my life has been that these should be always disappointed. I am for ever rolling the rock to the summit to behold it again cast down."

I hinted to him, with an attempt to rouse him into some mirth, that bachelorism was his disease.

"You are surrounded," said I, "by young and lovely women.'

Ay," said he, "but who loves me? I know that if I should dare to fix my outpouring passions upon any one, it would be singling her out for Heaven's wrath, from all the crowd about her. Either she would hate me, or I should be the means of leading her into some misery, now unforeseen and inconceivable. Disease would strike her, or some wintry grief would freeze the current of her sparkling joy."

"Ridiculous," said I, for I noticed that he seemed to waver in his anguish, that the turn which the conversation had taken had touched some string in his bosom, whose vibrations stirred within him more agreeable emotions. With difficulty I persuaded him to unbosom himself to me, and I learned, with the most pleasing surprise, that he had conceived a determined passion for the lady who, on the previous evening, had betrayed such a decided interest in him, I mentioned the circumstance; it thrilled him with pleasure. We parted-weeks

passed away; and, after the customary preliminaries, their mutual partiality was mutually understood, and they were married. I attended the joyful ceremony, on the completion of which the party set out on a little tour, usual on such occasions, and I required no powerful persuasions to accompany them. Edward's spirits were high. He never appeared to so much advantage. I could perceive how the influence of such circumstances would at length have re-established his mind, and restored the elasticity of his broken spirits. I am rather too far advanced in life to fall into raptures about a face, or a form, be it male or female; for the years which sprinkle snow on a man's forehead also chill the heart, and sober down the restless fancy. But the unusual loveliness of the happy bride, the grace and propriety of her deportment, and the evidently favourable sway with which she controlled the wayward gloom of my friend, elicited both pleasure and hope.

"She beams upon him," I thought, "as the spring sun upon the late frozen earth, and his bosom will change from a desert to a garden clothed with luxuriant verdure." Accustomed, as I am, to the dark incidents of life, the dream that this latest and most specious plan of happiness which my friend had ever formed, might also be broken, never entered my mind. Gloomy, indeed, are the ways of the world. I tremble and shudder to look abroad.

It was proposed by Edward that the party should deviate a day's journey from their route, for the purpose of visiting a romantic cataract, imbosomed among towering cliffs, and presenting a scene of uncommon grandeur and beauty.

Mary objected. It was strange. She stated no reason, but that she had a fear of that precipitous style of scenery.

"You little coward," said Edward. "She wants your assistance, doctor. You have cured me, you know, and now you shall her."

We accordingly started for the falls.

It was one of those glowing, tranquil summer afternoons, when we reached the

scene, which casts a subdued splendour over all nature. The red beams of the declining sun streamed through the green forest, as we wandered down the broken rocks to the spot whence the roar of the cataract proceeded.

Mary had forgotten her fears, and was the liveliest of the company. The sound of her sweet laugh yet rings in my ears; her eyes sparkling with the excitement and exercise, her cheeks glowing, and all her looks and words compelled me to murmur a prayer of gratitude, that two whom I so loved were completely blessed. "Come Mary," said Edward, "let us walk to yonder rock. Come, doctor." "We shall get wet with the spray," said Mary.

"Who cares?" replied Edward, "no one with a soul can take cold with such a scene before his eyes. Come along, you coward! What are you afraid of ?"

Our voices were lost in the deafening roar of the heavy body of water which swept beautifully over the precipice, and poured, splendidly flashing, in one unbroken sheet of green, white, and gold. Our path was narrow, and led along the very bank of the river, which, after the leap, lapsed by with a silent swiftness, presenting a broad black current of extraordinary depth and power. We picked our road over the broken ledges. I was foremost, Edward next, and lastly the dear, beautiful, and beloved companion of our journey; the path being too narrow to admit of any other method of reaching the point proposed. The rest of the company had pursued a different direction.

I looked back once. Edward was stooping to pick up a shell. Mary flung a little pebble at me, and shook her head laughingly. I turned away, and in a moment again looked back. Never shall I forget the shock the horror that thrilled through my soul at the sight which then blasted my view. Edward was standing in an attitude of frenzy, his eyes starting from their sockets, his hands clasped convulsively together, his lips quivering, and his face terribly pale. Mary was nowhere to be seen. Her bonnet and plume floated on the water.

HARRIET.

I HAVE exhausted many artifices in endeavouring to procure for my family a cook, a nurse and a waiting-man. My attempts were truly unlucky. The intelligence office poured in upon us one after another with the best of characters, but we could not endure them. One came with a certificate from a respectable family, in which her honesty, industry, and sobriety, were praised in the strongest terms; but happening one day to enter the room suddenly, I found Miss Sobriety at the sideboard, with the decanter of brandy and her lips in such a relative situation as let me into a very important secret respecting the young woman's disposition. I accordingly told her, in a mild way, that if she had desired any refreshment, she should have asked her mistress for it, by which means she would, doubtless, have procured it: as matters stood, I was sorry to be compelled to say we should not hereafter require her services. After begging, apologizing, and explaining with vehemence, she burst into tears-declared she was the mother of two infants, whom her husband had cruelly abandoned, and hoped that the gentleman would not take the bread out of the mouth of the poor defenceless woman, but would at least give

her a good character. Not choosing to inflict the lady upon any unwary stranger, and not particularly inclined to credit her recital, I positively refused; upon which, with the suddenness with which Milton mentions that the arch fiend,

66

squat like a toad," at the ear of our prime mother, resumed his original form at the touch of Ithuriel's spear-the poor, defenceless creature assumed the impudent demeanour of an Amazonian virago, and astounded me with such a mingled shower of oaths and threats, and reavealed such a licentious recklessness of character, as made me rejoice that I had escaped without having my wife's throat cut, or my children poisoned. This custom among decent people of giving a good character to persons with whom they are dissatisfied, merely from a weak feeling of pity, or a selfish desire to be rid of them as quietly as possible, is pernicious. It is a kind of fraud, not the less censurable, because you do not know whom it will cheat. It is a lie, which must eventually be detected. It procures only a temporary benefit to the bearer-disgraces yourself—and casts a general odium upon all the classes of honest and hard-labouring people whom Providence has placed in that station.