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we suspect, may find themselves un- famishing parents,-of her own declining able to go through with the whole of strength, and neglected useless talents. Mr Maturin's delineation. Here are

The gold still sparkled before her,—she felt some of the most appalling touches.

she knew not what, and to escape from

some feelings is perhaps the best victory “ Walberg had always felt and expressed we can obtain over them. But when she the strongest feelings of tender respect to- arrived at home, she eagerly thrust the wards his parents-his father particularly, small purchase she had made into her mowhose age far exceeded that of his mother. ther's hand, and, though hitherto gentle, At the division of their meal that day, he submissive, and tractable, announced in a shewed a kind of wolfish and eedy jealousy tone of decision that seemed to her startled that made Ines tremble. He whispered mother (whose thoughts were always limitto her—“ How much my father eats--how ed to the exigencies of the hour) like that heartily he feeds while we have scarce a of sudden insanity, that she would rather morsel !" “ And let us want that morsel, starve than ever again tread the streets of before your father wants one!” said Ines Seville alone.” in a whisper-" I have scarce tasted any- In the midst of this extreme wretchthing myself.” “ Father—father,” cried Walberg, shouting in the ear of the doting edness, the old mother of Walberg

you are eating heartily, while dies, and the poet, (for throughout this Ines and her children are starving! And story he deserves no lower name,) prohe snatched the food from his father's hand, duces a truly awful effect, by reprewho gazed at him vacantly, and resigned senting this death, which, but a few the contested morsel without a struggle. A weeks before, would have been lamentmoment afterwards the old man arose from ed by the whole household, as being his seat, and with horrid unnatural force, tore the untasted meat from his grandehil. less strongly-in the light of a happy

now regarded by them all-more or dren's lips, and swallowed it himself, while his rivelled and toothless mouth grinned at

deliverance. The grandfather alone them in mockery at once infantine and ma

is sunk into such a state of second licious.

childishness, as to be quite insensible Squabbling about your supper ?” cried to any impression, happy or sorrowful, Everhard, bursting among them with a from what has happened. In short, wild and feeble laughi," Why, here's the calamitous situation of Walberg, enough for to-morrow--and to-morrow.' and all that belong to him, is such, And he flung indeed ample means for two that at length the great tempter of the day's subsistence on the table, but he looked paler and paler. The hungry family de tale, Melmoth, thinks the hour is voured the hoard, and forgot to ask the

come in which he may make a successcause of his increasing paleness, and obvi. ful attempt on the warınest feelings of ously diminished strength

the son, the husband, and the father.

It is thus that the first notice of this They had long been without any do. terrible temptation is introduced to mestics, and as Everhard disappeared mys- the other memhers of the family. teriously every day, the daughters were “ The grandfather, still seated in his sometimes employed on the humble errands ample chair by the care of Ines, (for his of the family. The beauty of the elder son had grown very indifferent about him), daughter, Julia, was so conspicuous, that watched her moving fingers, and exclaimed, her mother had often undertaken the most with the petulance dotage, “ Aye,-you menial errands herself, rather than send her

are arraying them in embroidery, while I daughter into the streets unprotected. The am in rags.-In rags !” he repeated, holdfollowing evening, however, being intentlying out the slender garments which the employed in some domestic occupation, beggared family could with difficulty spare she allowed Julia to go out to purchase him. Ines tried to pacify him, and showed their food for to-morrow, and lent her her work, to prove that it was the remnants veil for the purpose, directing her daughter of her children's former dress she was reto arrange it in the Spanish fashion, with pairing ; but, with horror unutterable, she which she was well acquainted, so as to hide perceived her husband incensed at these exher face.

pressions of dotage, and venting his frantic " Julia, who went with trembling steps and fearful indignation in language that she on her brief errand, had somehow derang. tried to bury the sound of, by pressing closed her veil, and a glimpse of her beauty er to the old man, and attempting to fix his was caught by a cavalier who was passing bewildered attention on herself and her work. The meanness of her dress and occupation “ This was easily accomplished, and all was suggested hopes to him which he ventured well, till they were about to separate on to express. Julia burst from him with the their wretched precarious errands. Then a mingled terror and indignation of insulted new and untold feeling trembled at the purity, but her eyes rested with unconscious heart of one of the young wanderers. Julia avidity on the handful of gold which glit- remembered the occurrence of a preceding tered in his hand. She thought of her evening, she thought of the tempting gold,



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er op da the flattering language, and the tender tone arm against the helpless old man. At this

nasales a of the young cavalier. She saw her family horrid sight, Ines shrieked aloud, and the ore telat perishing around her for want, she felt it children, rushing forward, interposed. The to ea consuming her own vitals, and as she cast wretched father, incensed to madness, dealt the bar? her eye round the squalid room, the gold blows among them, which were borne with

Bu sa glittered brighter and brighter in her eye. out a murmur; and then, the storm being gerly for A faint hope, aided perhaps by a still more exhausted, he sat down and wept. ade inn he faint suggestion of venial pride, swelled in “At this moment, to the astonishment bished her heart. “ Perhaps he might love me,” and terror of all except Walberg, the old anpas she whispered to herself, “ and think me man, who, since the night of his wife's inled wo has not unworthy of his hand.” Then despair terment, had never moved but from his are alon returned to the charge. “ I must die of chair to his bed, and that not without ase how i famine," she thought, “ if I return un- sistance, rose suddenly from his seat, and, ste vra: aided, and why may I not by my death apparently in obedience to his son, walked cad de benefit my family! I will never survive with a firm and steady pace towards the

shame, but they may,--for they will door. When he had reached it, he paused, not know it! She went out, and took looked back on them with a fruitless effort a direction different from that of the family. at recollection, and went out slowly ;-and

“Night came on,--the wanderers return- such was the terror felt by all at this last throues ed slowly one by one, Julia was the last

. ghastly look, which seemed like that of a ser namin Her brothers and sister had each obtained a corse moving on to the place of its inter=ffet, bir trifling alms, for they had learned Spanish ment, that no one attempted to oppose his nich, bei. enough to beg in, and the old man's face passage, and several moments elapsed be

wore a vacant smile, as he saw the store fore Everhard had the recollection to purschold,

produced, which was, after all, scarce suffi-
cient to afford a meal for the youngest. “ In the mean time, Ines had dismissed

" And haveyou brought us nothing, Julia?” her children, and sitting as near as she ich es said her parents. She stood apart

, and in dared to the wretched father, attempted to and silence. Her father repeated the question address some soothing expressions to him. state

di in a raised and angry voice. She started at Her voice, which was exquisitely sweet and quite 3: the sound, and, rushing forward, buried soft, seemed to produce a mechanical effect her head in her mother's bosom. 46 No

on him. He turned towards her at first, med in thing, nothing,” she cried, in a broken and then leaning his head on his arm, he shed

suffocated voice ; “ I tried,my weak and a few silent tears,—then flinging it on his wicked heart submitted to the thought for a wife's bosom, he wept aloud. Ines seized

moment, but no, no, not even to save you this moment to impress on his heart the at tempe from perishing, could I! I came home to horror she felt from the outrage he had ks the perish first myself !” Her shuddering pa- committed, and adjured him to supplicate make rents comprehended her,--and amid their the mercy of God for a crime, which, in ricest luni agony they blessed her and wept, but not her eyes, appeared scarce short of parricide.

from grief. The meal was divided, of which Walberg wildly asked what she alluded to; Julia at first steadily refused to partake, as and when, shuddering, she uttered the she had not contributed to it, till her reluct- words, Your father,--your poor old faance was overcome by the affectionate im- ther!”-he siniled with an expression of portunity of the rest, and she complied. mysterious and supernatural confidence that

• It was during this division of what all froze her blood, and, approaching her ear, believed to be their last meal, that Walberg softly whispered, “ I have no father! He gave one of those proofs of sudden and is dead, -long dead! I buried him the fearful violence of temper, bordering on night I dug my mother's grave! Poor old insanity, which he had betrayed latterly. ,” he added with a sigh, “it was the He seemed to notice, with sullen displea- better for him, he would have lived only sure, that his wife had (as she always did) to weep, and perish perhaps with hunger. reserved the largest portion for his father. But I will tell you, Ines,—and let it be a He eyed it askance at first, muttering an- secret, I wondered what made our provigrily to himself. Then he spoke more a.

sions decrease so, till what was yesterday loud, though not so as to be heard by the sufficient for four, is not today sufficient deaf old man, who was sluggishly devour- for one.

I watched, and at last I discovere ing his sordid meal. Then the sufferings ed-it must be a secret-an old goblin, who of his children seemed to inspire him with daily visited this house. It came in the a kind of wild resentment, and he started likeness of an old man in rags, and with a up, exclaiming, “ My son sells his blood long white beard, and it devoured every to a surgeon, to save us from perishing !* thing on the table, while the children stood My daughter trembles on the verge of pro- hungry by ! But I struck at I cursed it, stitution, to procure us a meal ?" Then I chased it in the name of the All.powerful, fiercely addressing his father, “ And what and it is gone. Oh it was a fell devouring dost thou do, old dotard ? Rise up --rise goblin !-but it will haunt us no more, and up, and beg for us thyself, or thou must he shall have enough. Enough,” said the starve !”-and, as he spoke, he raised his wretched man, involuntarily returning to

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his habitual associations," enough for to Yet even here the temptation is remorrow !”

sisted ; and, unlike the other tales in “ Ines, overcome with horror at this ob- the collection, the end of this one is vious proof of insanity, neither interrupte after all fortunate. It is discovered, ed or opposed him ; she attempted only to sooth him, internally praying against the

at the moment when even the piety of too probable disturbance of her own intel- Ines was beginning to lend but a feeble lects. Walberg saw her look of distrust, aid to the resolution of Walberg, that and, with the quick jealousy of partial in the will of Guzman, in favour of the sanity, said, “If you do not credit me in church, had after all been a forgery, that, still less, I suppose, will you in the and therefore the former testament account of that fearful visitation with which (in favour of the German and his faI have latterly been familiar.”.

—“Oh, my mily) is that by which the estate is to beloved !” said Ines, who recognized in these words the source of a fear that had lat. be disposed of.' But we have no room terly, from some extraordinary circumstan

to quote from the concluding scenes ces in her husband's conduct, taken possession of her soul, and made the fear even We regret this the less, because we of famine trifling in comparison,--" I dread are sure what we have already quoted lest I understand you too well. The an. must be quite enough to justify, in guish of want and of famine I could have the eyes of our readers, the high borne, –aye, and seen you bear, but the praise with which we commenced our horrid words you have lately uttered, the notice of these volumes. We do not horrid thoughts that escape you in your know whether all our readers may sleep,—when I think on these, and guess at". “ You need not guess," said sympathise with us when we say, that Walberg, interrupting her, “ I will tell you to us “The Mysteries of Udolpho” has all.” And, as he spoke, his countenance been, is, and must always be, one of changed from its expression of wildness to the most delightful books in the Engone of perfect sanity and calm confidence, lish language. Of those that might -his features relaxed, his eye became be somewhat ashamed, however, to steady, and his tone firm.--" Every night confess admiration such as ours for since our late distresses, I have wandered that masterpiece of Mrs Radcliffe, not out in search of some relief, and supplicated every passing stranger ;-latterly, I have

a few may perhaps think themselves met every night the enemy of man, who" at liberty (protected by the classical

“ Oh cease, my love, to indulge name of Godwin) to think and to these horrible thoughts, they are the re- speak almost as highly as we should be sults of your disturbed unhappy state of inclined to do concerning “ St Leon.” mind.”_" Ines, listen to me. I see that Now, there is no occasion for instifigure as plainly as I see yours, “I hear his tuting comparisons on the present ocvoice as distinctly as you hear mine this casion ; but we are pretty confident Want and misery are not natu

that the most enthusiastic admirers of rally fertile in the production of imagination,they grasp at realities too closely. Udolpho or St Leon will pause ere No man, who wants a meal, conceives that they assign to the very best passages of a banquet is spread before him, and that either of these works a higher place than the tempter invites him to sit down and eat may justly be claimed for not a few of at his ease. No,-no, Ines, the evil one, the sketches in this wild story of The or some devoted agent of his in human Tempter Melmoth. Mr Maturin is, form, besets me every night, and how without question, one of the most shall longer resist the snare, I know not.”

- And in what form does he appear i» genuine masters of the dark romance. said Ines, hoping to turn the channel of his He can make the most practised reader gloomy thoughts, while she appeared to

tremble as effectually as Mrs Radcliffe, follow their direction. “ In that of a mid- and what is better, he can make him dle-aged man, of a serious and staid de. think as deeply as Mr Godwin. We meanour, and with nothing remarkable in cannot carry the commendation sought his aspect except the light of two burning for by this species of exertion much eyes, whose lustre is almost intolerable, higher than we do when we say, that He fixes them on me sometimes, and I feel in our opinion, a little more reflection as if there was fascination in their glare. and labour are all Mr Maturin wants, Every night he besets me, and few like me could have resisted his seductions. He has in order to enable him to attain a peroffered, and proved to me, that it is in his manent eminence, not inferior to that power to bestow all that human cupidity long since acquired by the magnificent could thirst for, on the condition that imagination that dictated the tale of I cannot utter! It is one so full of hor- Caleb Williams. ror and impiety, that, even to listen to it, is scarce leso a crime than to comply with it!"



Long summers have smil'd, and long winters have frown'd

Since last, in this time-hallowell bower,
With eglantine wreath'd, and with jessamine crown'd,

We sigh'd through the soft twilight hour ;
And many a pleasure hath lured me in vain,

And many a sorrow hath past,
Since the eve that, long lingering in anguish and pain,

From thee, love, I parted the last !
Though the billows of danger my course have delay'd,

When the wind rav'd along the dark sea,
Through the lands of the stranger my footsteps have stray'd,

But my visions were ever with thee.
And now, 'mid the scenes of our youth we have met,

In the bower where before we did part,
And I feel that the Star of my being shall set,
With thine, oh beloved of my heart !


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Thoughts, that do often lie too deep for tears.


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O'tis delightful, on a vernal eve,
Within the tranquil and embower'd recess
Of a green arbour to recline alone,
While gentle rains, descending from the sky,
Make pleasant music on the thirsty ground;
And there indulge that pleasing pensiveness,
That languor of the meditative mind,
Which broods upon the ocean of the past,
Slow sailing onwards. O 'tis sadly sweet,
To hear the small drops plashing on the stems
Of succulent herbs, and on the opening buds,
While, gently murmuring past, the west wind sighs
To and fro, waving, in the twilight air,
The broad expanse of melancholy leaves;
To see the swallow, 'mid the falling shower,
Darting aloft, and wheeling ʼmid the sky;
And buzzing home, the startled humble-bee,
Journeying, in mazy flight, from flower to flower.
Then doubly sweet, and doubly touching then,
If, from the distant light-green groves, be heard
Soft Music's dying, undulating fall;
As if, again, the Pagan deities,
Pan or Sylvanus, for one season more,
Had sought the empires of their ancient reign :
And, turning from the concord of sweet sounds,
Gaze on the lovely blossoms, pink and white,

pear and apple tree; the varied bloom
Of varied herb; the many-tinctur’d flowers,
Recumbent with the weight of dew, between
Their girdles of green leaves; the freshened coats
Of evergreens; the myrtle, and the box,
And cypress, ʼmid whose darkly-clustering boughs
The blackbird sits.

Such melancholy eves
Have nameless charms for me, too deep for words

To utter and unbosom. Feelings dwell
Deep, in the inner shrine of human hearts,
And sheltered from the rule and passing shocks
Of common life, that need the electric spark
To fire them,-and at once the soul is flame!

To him, who sojourns 'mid the busy crowd
Of cities; where contention's jar is heard
For ever dissonant; whose pathway lies
Mid tumult, yet whose youth hath passed away, —
His earlier, better years—in privacy,
Sequestered from the rude shocks of the world,
Mid hills, and dales, and woods, and quiet lawns,
And streamy glens, and pastoral dells; to him,
Who, every eve, listed the blackbird's song,
And, every morn, beheld the speckled lark
Ascend to greet the sun ; to him an hour
Like this, so pregnant with deep-seated thought,
Thought kindled at the shrine of earlier years,
Long quench’d, is more delightful than the mirth
Of smiling faces, ʼmid the perfum’d vaults
Of echoing halls majestic, where the pride
Of Art emblazoned forth, extinguishes
The glow of Nature in the human heart !

Oh! not the most intense of present joys Can match the far-departed loveliness Of vanish'd landscapes, when the wizard Time Hath spread o'er all their clefts and roughnesses His twilight mantle, and the spirit broods On what alone is beautiful, and soft, And puremas summer waters in the sun Sleeping, when not a cloud is on the sky. Oh! not the gorgeous splendour that invests The evening cloud, when, from his western tent, Resplendent glows the setting sun, and beams O’er earth, and sea, and sky, his glorious light, As if to show us, with derisive smiles, How sweet a paradise this world can be Oh! not the mid-day brightness, nor the blush Of crimson morning, have the deep delight, The state, the grandeur, the impressiveness Of this most intellectual hour, which draws The feelings to a focus, and restoresAs native music to a wanderer's ear, In foreign climes afar beyond the sea The lightening vista of departed years.

There runs a current through the ocean depths, A current through the ocean of the soul, Made of uncommunicable thoughtsIt is in vain, we cannot utter them Like lava in the bowels of the hill, They dwell unseen-like lightning in the cloud, They hold no concourse with the passing thoughts Of common being, nor communion hold With what is passing round us; like the rays Of broken sunshine, they illume our paths; Like relics snatched from paradise, they rise Before us, telling us of something fair, Which is not, but which hath been ; to the soul They are familiar, but we know not where, Nor when their first acquaintance-ship began ; All speak a language soothing to the heart, Even from their voiceless silence; the thin smoke


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