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dying early, had left her a large portion. His suit, was present, consenting and assisting at this inquisithough backed by Essex, was unsuccessful; the tion; nothing like guilt could be extracted to aggralady preferred the young, accomplished, but poor | vate the charge—yet he was convicted; but such barrister to his rival in the solicitor-generalship, the was the popular indignation that the sentence dared famous Sir Edward Coke, who was then a crabbed not be carried into execution, though the poor vicwidower, well stricken in years, to whom there tim, after languishing in jail till the following year, were “ seven objections his six children and him- was released from his sufferings by death. self;"' but he was rich, and in possession of power Yet, even in the midst of all this subserviency to and honours, while his rival was almost a briefless the dictates of a cruel sovereign, and in the active barrister.
violation of all justice and humanity, did Bacon Sir E. Coke was not only his rival in his matri coolly sit down, in his leisure hours, and write out, monial speculation, but he also took every opportu- for the edification of the court favourite Buckingham, nity of disparaging his legal acquirements, and in whose good graces he wished to cultivate, one of the that rude and brutal manner for which he was so wisest and most noble of treatises, inculcating every celebrated. To crown his misfortunes, at this time, thing that is great, and just and amiable, as the rule too, he was arrested by a relentless creditor for a and guidance of a statesman! Another curious debt of L.300, and detained a prisoner for some days document exists, illustrative of Bacon's moral chatill the matter was arranged through the interference racter. It is a letter which he writes to his inveterate of friends.
rival and enemy, Sir E. Coke, on occasion of that The manner in which Bacon requited the Earl of lawyer falling into disgrace, through courrt intrigues. Essex's former friendship, when that favourite now Coke certainly deserved no commiseration at the fell into disgraèe, sufficiently shows that this other- hands of Bacon, but nothing can exceed the bitter wise accomplished man was totally devoid of all scorn with which he is here addressed ; Lord Campfeelings of gratitude or affection. As long as there bell thus characterises it :-" In no composition that was a hope of the favourite recovering his place in I have met with is there a greater display of vengeful the affections of the queen, Bacon did his utmost to malignity.” forward a reconciliation; but when he found that At last, in the year 1617, Bacon attained the this was at last hopeless, and that the rash and un- | height of his ambition, in being made keeper of the fortunate favourite rushed upon his fate, he became great seal. To the duties of this office he set himhis bitter enemy, and courted and solicited the task self with that zeal and perseverance which characof being one of his public accusers. This office he terised all his actions. At the end of one month performed at the trial in the most heartless and from his assuming office, he had, with incredible cold-blooded manner, not less to the astonishment labour, cleared off the whole arrears of cases, so that and indignation of the prisoner as to that of the not one cause remained to be heard--a circumstance whole audience. Nor did his ingratitude cease with which, he remarks, in a letter to Buckingham, could the death of that nobleman. By the desire of the not be said in our age before. In the following queen, he wrote a pamphlet detailing the treasons year, as a reward for his labours, and his general of the culprit, and excusing and defending the subserviency, he was raised to the peerage by the highly unpopular step of his execution.
title of Baron Verulam. On the accession of James I, to the throne of Amidst all his labours, he was at this time too England, Bacon contrived to insinuate himself into busily employed on his great work, the Novum his good graces. By him he was knighted along with Organon, which had engaged his thoughts for thirty two or three hundred others, and shortly afterwards years, and which he had twelve times transcribed he led to the hymeneal altar Miss Barnham, the with his own hand, at the same time enlarging and daughter and rich heiress of a city alderman. amending it. It was published in 1620, with a dedi
In 1605 appeared his treatise « On the Advance- cation to the king. But his downfall was now near ment of Learning," a work which spread his fame at hand. It had become notorious that he was in over Europe. This, as well as some other treatises, the practice of receiving bribes froin suitors in his were composed in the intervals of incessant toil, both court, and that this had been carried on to a great in his profession, and as an active member of the extent.. Some of those suitors who had thus bribed House of Commons.
him, but who, nevertheless, found that his decisions In 1607, he at last obtained the long-desired pre- were adverse to their cause, became loud in their ferment of solicitor-general, and in 1613 he was denunciations-his mortal foe, Sir Edward Coke, led made attorney-general. He at this time might be on the accusations against him ; and the Parliament, considered as the chief political adviser of the crown, which had just inet, showing a determination to take so assiduously had he courted the good graces of the cognisance of all such gross abuses, the court became monarch by entering into his favourite schemes, frightened, and dared not, even if they had the among which was the union of Scotland with Eng- inclination, show partiality to the chancellor. land. Neither had he now any scruples about raising Finding matters thus drawing to an open exposupplies by benevolences or other means, the granting sure, the chancellor became terribly alarmed ; for of monopolies, or the confirmation and extension of some time he was overpowered by illness, and was the royal prerogatives.
unable, or unwilling, to appear in his place in the But, perhaps, one of the most cruel and tyrannical House of Lords. Meanwhile fresh charges of bribery transactions of the times was the trial of a poor old and corruption were poured in from all quarters clergyman of Somersetshire, named Peachum, in against him, and, finding the house resolved to bring which the attorney-general acted a chief part. On on an impeachment, and being convinced of the breaking into this man's study, a serinon was there inability, as well as the disinclination, of the king found, which he had never preached, nor intended and his favourite to take strong measures for supto preach, nor shown to any person, but which con- pressing the inquiry by a prorogation of the parliatained some passages encouraging the people to resist ment, he at last resolved to write a letter, confessing tyranny. He was immediately arrested--the judges his guilt; deprecating farther inquiry, and imploring were tampered with his trial went on, and the poor their leniency. On this the Péors proceeded to prowretch was put repeatedly to the torture. Baconnounce the following judgment :That the Lord
Viscount St Albans should be fined L.40,000 : 1 of reasoning and thinking, almost impossible to have That he should be imprisoned in the Tower dur- an accurate knowledge of the great good which they ing his Majesty's pleasure, and that he should be bestowed on science. His style is exact, perspicuous, for ever incapable of holding any public office, and forcible, teeming with illustrations, and full of place, or employment: That he should never sit bold and figurative eloquence. in parliainent, nor come within the verge of the His intellectual capacities were those of the very court.
highest order, but nature seemed to have curtailed Some biographers have attempted to make it appear him of all the best affections of the heart. It is that there was some undisclosed mystery in the admitted on all hands, that he was without any fixed course which Bacon adopted of making no defence; or steady attachments, and that, regardless of gratibut it appears evident he had no defence to make, tude or of friendship, he was entirely governed by for whoever will compare the charges with the evi- a selfish view of his own interests. But he was perdence, will find that they are all fully substantiated. fectly free from malignity ;-he was good-natured It has been said, too, that such practices were noto- and obliging, provided the objects of his favour did riously common in the age in which he lived, yet it not come in the way of his own ambition and selfis evident judicial bribery was by no means sanc- love. His passions seem to have been moderate : tioned, for both houses of parliament condemned the he was temperate, laborious, and free from sensual practice as most culpable, and the nation with one vices. He was a most instructive and amusing comvoice exclaimed against it. And if we turn to the panion, and had the natural talent of adapting himself written works of the celebrated delinquent, we shall to the company in which he was placed a little there find the true standard of morality strictly en fanciful about his health and regimen. In his younger joined.
| years, he was inclined to scepticism in religion, but In execution of the sentence he was conveyed, in as farther inquiry corrected this. “It is an assumed private a manner as possible, to the Tower; but from truth,” says he, evidently alluding to his own expehis earnest entreaties, and the humane interposition rience, “that a little and superficial knowledge of of Prince Charles, his farther imprisonment there is philosophy may incline the mind of man to atheisin, commuted to retirement to a villa in the country. but a further proceeding therein doth bring the mind Here, even amid penury and the pressure of embar- back again to religion ; for, in the entrance of phirassed affairs, he set indefatigably to study, and losophy, when the second causes which are next produced some of his most admired works. Before unto the senses do offer themselves unto the mind the death of his sovereign, he had the satisfaction of of man, if it dwell and stay there, it may induce receiving a full pardon, but he never again entered some oblivion of the highest cause; but when a man public life, and spent the remainder of his days in passeth on further, and seeth the dependence of retirement from all the busy scenes of politics. Age causes and the works of Providence, then, according and infirmity now came upon him, and, in December, to the allegory of the poets, he will easily believe 1626, he, with his own hand, wrote out his will. that the highest link of Nature's chain must needs Amongst other directions he says,—“For my burial be tied to the foot of Jupiter's chair." I desire it may be in St Albans; there was my mother In person he was of middle stature, his limbs well buried. For my name and memory, I leave it to formed, though not robust, his forehead high, spamen's charitable speeches, and to foreign nations and cious, and open-his eye lively and penetratingthe next ages.” The immediate cause of his death there were deep lines of thinking in his face-his was a cold, which he caught in making an experi smile was both intellectualanı benevolent—the marks ment of preserving a fowl by stuffing it with snow. of age were prematurely impressed upon him,-in He had driven out from his apartments in Gray's advanced life bis whole appearance was venerably Inn to Highgate, for this purpose, and being there pleasing, so that a stranger was insensibly drawn to seized with a cold shivering, he was taken to the love before knowing how much reason there was to house of his friend, the Earl of Arundel, where he admire him. expired in a few days afterwards. He had no near relatives to soothe his last moments ; his conjugal life had not been a happy one, and his wife had
THE YARROW AND ITS POETICAL separated from him a short time before.
ASSOCIATIONS. Thus died, in his 66th year, not merely the most distinguished man who ever held the great seal of
“ And is this Yarrow, this the stream England, but, notwithstanding his faults, one of the
Of which my fancy cherished greatest men that ever lived. As a lawyer and
So faithfully, a waking dream, judge, his attainments were of the first order ; as a
An image that hath perished ?" statesman he was disposed, as far as right principles
Wordscorth. and inclinations are concerned, to govern constitutionally and by parliaments. He never counselled Those who are in any considerable degree acquainted violent measures, and was not averse to moderate with the ballad lore of Scotland, must, like Wordsand cautious reforms. As a philosopher, he was worth, have drawn in their imaginations a picture less distinguished for original discovery than for that of the Yarrow. No Scottish river, if we except the rare and profound sagacity which enabled him to Tweed, has enjoyed the fame of being the subject of compass, as it were, the bounds of human know- so many sweet strains, or of being so closely conledge, and to lay down laws for rigid investigation, nected with our national poetry, to such a degree as and deductions from facts and phenomena. Before this truly classic river, and its adjacent scenery. his time the learned busied themselves in build- From the times of the early minstrels, who played and ing up theories upon baseless visions and a priori sang in the ancient baronial halls of the Scottish reasonings. He taught the true investigation of nobility, up to the present day, the Yarrow has been nature from facts and experiments. His writings a favourite theme of song, not only for the interesthad a marked effect on the age, and were extensively ing traditions connected with it, but for the peculiar read, however, some have objected to the contrary ; beauty of the district through which it flows. An and it is now, from the complete change in the modes 'additional interest has likewise been thrown around
it, from its connexion with the Border Minstrel and The imagination cannot but be deeply impressed the Ettrick Shepherd, and the scene of many of with the stillness which characterises this scene. their tales, ballads, and poems. Notwithstanding The almost innumerable associations which are conthe celebrity which it has thus acquired, the Yarrow nected with it, and the fact, that except the ruins of yet retains much of its primitive character. Totally the Old Freebooters' Towers, which stand in the different from other localities favoured by the muse glens around, it retains the same appearance which ---where the great number of visitors has produced it did when the “peerless flower of Yarrow yale" an almost corresponding amount of modern improve- bloomed amid its solitude. Scott, in his beautiful ments for the convenience of the lovers of the description of it, has said truly picturesque, in the shape of steam-boats, elegant bridges, and expensive hotels—the scenery from the
“ There's nothing left to fancy's guess, source of the Yarrow down to its junction with the
You see that all is loneliness,
And silence aids, though these steep hills Ettrick, in the vicinity of Selkirk, fully justifies its
Send to the lake a thousand rills : right to be called “the lonely Yarrow." In many
In summer tide so soft they weep places, indeed for many miles, hardly a human being
Till sound but lulls the ear asleep." is to be met with, except it be a single shepherd far in some lonely glen, beguiling the long summer day
But the vale of Yarrow does not always present the by reading Burns, or knitting stockings. Sabbath,
same serene appearance-storms of wind and rain, generally the quietest day of the week, may be con
which are frequent in this district, come on with a sidered the busiest here. On week days the pastoral
rapidity which seldom occurs elsewhere but in mounoccupations of the inhabitants lead them far away
tainous localities. The sky, and the sky-mirroring among the wild hills which tower above the river,
lake become in a few minutes dark and gloomy, the froin St Mary's Loch nearly to Selkirk, while on the
bright purple of the hills is darkened, and a long Sabbath day the roads are busy with shepherds, in
ominous sough of the wind comes through the glens, their blue bonnets and plaids, and shepherds' wives
and sweeps, sighing like the ghosts of the departed and families, on their way to the several churches of heroes of
heroes of the scene, down the dale, warning the Yarrow and Meggetdale. One of these stands in a
shepherd to seek the bield of the pen or the hill side, beautiful ravine in the vicinity of
ere the storm comes on.
The particular interest of this region centres in “Sweet St Mary's waters blue.”
Dryhope Tower, the residence of Mary Scott, the Although the river Yarrow may properly be said to Flower of Yarrow. This lady, the daughter of one take its rise in Meggetdale, it presents no consider- freebooter, Philip Scott of Dryhope, and subseable appearance until it has widened into the Loch quently the wife of another, Scott of Harden, seems of the Lowes, and shortly afterwards into St Mary's to have been as much famed for the number of her Loch. The beauty of the last mentioned loch is of lovers, and for her fickleness, as for her matchless a particularly solitary character, almost entirely beauty. Old song glows with her praises, and the encompassed by hills, which slope gradually from minstrels of more modern times, catching the echoes the margin, and which in clear weather are mirrored from the harp of ancient days, have chanted strains from base to summit, in its depths, and so presents to her beauty, rivalling the numbers of the early a singularly still and even solemn appearance, al- poets. A writer about the beginning of last century though no cliffs or precipices give a boldness to the singsscene--the utter loneliness of everything around, and
"In ancient times, as songs rehearse, the shape of the hills, which are for the most part
One charming nymph employed all verse, covered with heather, and spotted here and there
She reigned alone, without a marrowwith solitary sheep pens, and still more solitary
Mary Scott, the Flower of Yarrow." cairns, contribute to give it a most imposing effect. On a knoll, overhanging the lake, is the old church
it. The following lines, from a song by Ramsay, shows yard of St Mary's, with its moss-covered and defaced | |
ch; that he too must have been moved by the ideal grave-stones, which point out the last resting places
beauty of this “beauteous flower, this rose of
ar “Scotts that dwelt on Yarrow."
“ Ye registers of heaven relate,
If looking o'er the rolls of fate, To contribute to the wildness of the scene, a small
Did you there see one mark'd to marrow mound, with a few rough stones, is observable a little
Mary Scott, the Flower of Yarrow. to the east of the church-yard, said to be the burial place of a famous wizard of olden time. In one of
Ah no! her form's too heavenly fair, the introductions in Marmion, Sir W. Scott speaks
Her love the gods above must share,
While mortals in despair implore her, of this spot
And at a distance due adore her.”
The Wizard's grave;
the connexion of her family with the Elliots, the The lake itself, perhaps one of the finest of our smaller
ancestress of two individuals who hold no mean rank Scottish lakes, is free from reeds or sedge, and when among our national song writers ; one, Miss Elliot, seen on a beautiful summer day, it looks like a vast the authoress of the beautiful modern version or expanse of liquid gold floating among the hills : and “ The Flowers of the Forest ;” and the other, Sir the ripple, while it has the effect of preserving its Gilbert Elliot, the author of some fine pastoral poetry, clearness, reflects the sunbeams, and gives it the ap- | and among the rest the song pearance which Wordsworth speaks of when he
“My sheep I've forsaken.” “Through all her depths St Mary's Lake
Not far distant from Dryhope Tower, stands Is visibly delighted."
Mount Benger, the early residence of the Ettrick And again
Shepherd ; and, on the opposite side of the stream, “The swan, on sweet St Mary's Lake,
Altrive Lake, the place of his death. These localities Floats double-swan and shadow."
cannot but be interesting to all lovers of Scottish
poetry. Next to the works of the poet, the place of times. On one side, the long glen which was once his residence is most attractive. And this region, so the royal hunting forest of Ettrickidentified with the memory of him who found a harp
'“Where erst the outlaw drew his arrow," amid his own wild hills, and who struck from it such strains of artless beauty, is alive with the most de stretches among the hills. Here the well-known plain lightful associations. Here the vale of Yarrow of Carterhaugh, of fairy celebrity. There, on the assumes that character so admirably expressed in the
other side, is Minch Moorand Philiphaugh-the scene appellation
of struggle and the theme of song-behind us we can
perceive the solitary Tower of Aikwood, supposed to “The Dowie Dens o' Yarrow.”
have been once the residence of Michael Scott, the And in the vicinity, near the parish church, where wizard ; and before us lies the famous vale. The plainthe stream murmurs along with a slow doleful sound, tive murmur of its waters falls heavily on the ear, and is the scene of that catastrophe, celebrated in the
we can distinctly trace the localities which tradition ballad of “ The Dowie Dens," and in the modern and song have rendered marvellous. In the evening, production of William Hamilton of Bangour, entitled when the natural stillness of the air, and the deep * The Braes o’ Yarrow," and alluded to in “ The
murky shade which falls over the mountains, Douglas Tragedy." Two large unhewn stones still crowned here and there with a cairn or a memorial mark the spot where tradition says the hero fell.
stone of some departed warrior, adds to the charmed
silence which reigns over the scene, the full display “Did I not warn thee not to love
of the Yarrow's lonely loveliness is visibleAnd warn from fight? But to my sorrow, Too rashly bold, a stronger arm thou met'st,
“ Meek loveliness is o'er it spread, Thou met’st, and fell on the braes o' Yarrow."
A softness still and holy,
The grace of forest charms decayed, Another tradition, of which very little is known,
And pastoral melancholy." sets forth, that some lover was drowned in the stream, and that his mistress, in despair, sought out the place We feel as if gazing on a land in the world of ? where his body lay, and destroyed herself also.
| dreams, like Kilmeny ere she « She foand his body in the stream,
“Returned to the land of thought again," And now wi' him she sleeps in Yarrow."
“A lonely land before her lay, On this tradition the plaintive old song of “ Willie's
A land that had glens and mountains grey, Drowned in Yarrow," and Logan's beautiful lay,
A land that had valleys and hoary piles, “ The Braes o' Yarrow,” are founded. Farther
And marled seas, and a thousand isles.
Its Lakes down, the stream gains an additional poetical asso
Like mirrors, where slumbering lay, ciation from its proximity to the old castle of Hang
The sun, and the sky, and the cloudlet gray." ingshaw, the scene of the ballad of the “ Outlaw Murray," in Scott's Border Minstrelsy. Nearly For once, perhaps, the reality of the scene before as opposite to this place, the famous hill, Black Andrew, equals at least that which ourimagination has drawn, raises its thickly wooded summit. And again, on as Wordsworth has beautifully saidanother eminence which divides the vale of Ettrick froin that of Yarrow, stands the beautiful ruin of
“And thou that did'st appear so fair
To fond imagination, Newark, the scene of the Minstrel's last lay.
Doth rival in the light of day
Her delicate creation."
THE BROKEN HEART.
- I never heard Not far from Newark, the Ettrick, which flows
Of any true affection, but was nipt through a vale on the other side of the eminence, on
With care, that, like the caterpillar eats
The leaves of the spring's sweetest book, the rose. which the ruin stands, joins its waters to those of
Middleton. the Yarrow, and the poetical associations connected with this famous stream ends with its individual | It is a common practice with those who have outlived existence
the susceptibility of early feeling, or have been brought
up in the gay heartlessness of dissipated life, to laugh at « The Ettrick from its lonely dingle,
all love stories, and to treat the tales of romantic passion And elassic Yarrow from its dens,
as mere fictions of novelists and poets. My observations In each otler's waters mingle,
on human nature have induced me to think otherwise And flow through copsewood and through shingle,
They have convinced me, that however the surface of To join proud Tweed among its glens.
the character may be chilled and frozen by the cares of Flow on for ever, Yarrow stream,
the world, or cultivated into mere smiles by the arts of Fulfil thy pensive duty,
society, still there are dormant fires lurking in the depths Well pleased that future bards shall chant,
of the coldest bosom, which, when once enkindled, beFor simple hearts, thy beauty.
come impetuous, and are sometimes desolating in their
effects. Indeed. I am a true believer in the blind deity, To dream light dear, while yet unseen,
and go to the full extent of his doctrines. Shall I conDear to the common gnushine,
fess it?-I believe in broken hearts, and the possibility And dearer still, as now I feel,
of dying of disappointed love. I do not, however, conTo memory's shadowy moonshine."
sider it a malady often fatal to my own sex, but I firmly
believe that it withers down many a lovely woman into Standing by Newark's old grey tower, which the an genius of the last minstrel has hallowed, we realize Man is the creature of interest and ambition. His the beauty which Wordsworth speaks of in one of nature leads him forth into the struggle and bustle of his enchanting poems on this beautiful river. Around the world. Love is but the embellishment of his early us every thing seems to belong as it were to by-gone I life, or a song piped in the intervals of the acts. He
seeks for fame, for fortune, for space in the world's treason against his country-the eloquent vindication of thought, and dominion over his fellow men. But a hiş name and his pathetic appeal to posterity, in the woman's whole life is a history of the affections. The hopeless hour of condemnation-all these entered deeply heart is her world; it is there that her ambition strives into every generous bosom, and even his enemies la. for empire; it is there her avarice seeks for hidden trea mented the stern policy that dictated his execution. sures. She sends forth her sympathies on adventure; But there was one heart whose anguish it would be she embarks her whole soul in the traffic of affection; impossible to describe. In happier days and fairer forand, if shipwrecked, her case is hopeless-for it is the tunes, he had won the affections of a beautiful and inbankruptcy of the heart.
teresting girl, the daughter of a late celebrated Irish To a man the disappointment of love may occasion barrister. She loved him with the disinterested fervour some bitter pangs; it wounds some feelings of tenderness of a woman's first and early love. When every worldly -it blasts some prospects of felicity; but he is an active maxim arrayed itself against him; when blasted in forbeing-he may dissipate his thoughts in the whirl of tune, and disgrace and danger darkened around his name, varied occupation, or may plunge into the tide of plea- she loved him the more ardently for his very sufferings. sure; or if the scene of disappointment be too full of If then his fate could awaken the sympathy even of bis painful associations, he can shift his abode at will, and foes, what must have been the agony of her, whose whole taking as it were the wings of the morning, can “fly to soul was occupied by his image! Let those tell who the wttermost parts of the earth, and be at rest." | have had the portals of the tomb suddenly closed between
But a woman's is comparatively a fixed, a secluded, them and the being they most loved on earth—who have and a meditative life. She is more the companion of sat on its threshold, as one shut out in a cold and lonely her own thoughts and feelings, and if they are turned | world, from whence all that was most lovely and loving to ministers of sorrow, where shall she look for consola had departed. tion ? Her lot is to be wooed and won, and if unhappy! But then the horrors of such a grave--so frightful, so in her love, her heart is like some fortress that has been dishonoured! There was nothing for memory to dwell captured, and sacked, and abandoned, and left desolate. on that could soothe the pang of separation-none of
How many bright eyes grow dim-how many soft those tender, though melancholy circumstances, that cheeks grow pale-how many lovely forms fade away endear the parting scene--nothing to melt sorrow into into the tomb, and none can tell the cause that blighted those blessed tears, sent, like the dews of heaven, to retheir loveliness! As the dove will clasp his wings to vive the heart in the parting hour of anguish. its side, and cover and conceal the arrow that is preying To render her widowed situation more desolate, she on its vitals, so is it the nature of women to hide from had incurred her father's displeasure by her unfortunate the world the pangs of wounded affection. The love of attachment, and was an exile from the paternal roof. a delicate female is always shy and silent. Even when But conld the sympathy and kind offices of friends have fortunate she searcely breathes it to herself, and when reached a spirit so shocked and driven in by horror, she otherwise she buries it in the recesses of her bosom, and would have experienced no want of consolation, for the there lets it cower and brood among the ruins of her Irish are a people of quick and generous sensibilities. peace. With her the desire of the heart has failed--the The most delicate and cherishing attentions were paid great charm of existence is at an end. She neglects all her by families of wealth and distinction. She was led the cheerful exercises which gladden the spirits, quicken into society, and they tried by all kinds of occupation the pulses, and send the tide of life in healthful currents and amusement to dissipate her grief, and wean her from through the veins. Her rest is broken-the sweet re the tragical story of her loves. But it was all in vain. freshment of sleep is poisoned by melancholy dreams There are some strokes of calamity that scathe and * dry sorrow drinks her blood," until her enfeebled frame scorch the soul-that penetrate to the vital seat of hapsinks under the slightest external injury. Look for her piness, and blast it, never again to put forth bud or after a little while, and you find friendship weeping over blossom. She never objected to frequent the haunts of her untimely grave, and wondering that one who but pleasure, but she was as much alone there as in the lately glowed with all the radiance of health and beauty depths of solitude. She walked about in a sad reverie, should so speedily be brought down to “darkness and apparently unconscious of the world around her. She the worm." "You will be told of some wintry chiH, some carried with her an inward woe, that mocked at all the casual indisposition that laid her low; but no one knows blandishments of friendship, and “heeded not the song of the mental malady that previously sapped her strength, of the charmer, charm he never so wisely." and made her so easy a prey to the spoiler.
The person who told me her story had seen her at a She is like some tender tree, the pride and beauty of masquerade. There can be no exhibition of far-gone the grove; graceful in its form, bright in its foliage, but wretchedness more striking and painful than to meet it with the worm preying at its heart. We find it suddenly in such a scene. To find it wandering like a spectre, withering when it should be most fresh and luxuriant. lonely and joyless, where all around is gay--to see it We see it drooping its branches to the earth, and shed- dressed out in the trappings of mirth, and looking so ding leaf by leaf, until wasted and perished away, it falls wan and woe-begone, as if it had tried in vain to cheat even in the stillness of the forest ; and as we muse over the poor heart into a momentary forgetfulness of sorrow. the beautiful ruin, we strive in vain to recollect the blast After strolling through the splendid rooms and giddy or thunderbolt that could have smitten it with decay. crowd with an air of utter abstraction, she sat herself
I have seen many instances of women running to waste down on the steps of an orchestra, and looking about and self-neglect, and disappearing gradually from the for some time with a vacant air, that showed her insenearth, almost as if they had been exhaled to heaven ; sibility to the garish scene, she began with the capriciousand have repeatedly fancied that I could trace their ness of a sickly heart, to warble a little plaintive air. death through the various declensions of consumption, She had an exquisite voice, but on this occasion it was cold, debility, languor, melancholy, until it reached the so simple, so touching, it breathed forth such a soul of first symptom of disappointed love. But an instance of wretchedness, that she drew a crowd mute and silent this kind was lately told me; the circumstances are well around her, and melted every one into tears. known in the country where they happened, and I shall The story of one so true and tender could not but but give them in the manner in which they were related. excite great interest in a country remarkable for enthu
Every one must recollect the tragical story of young siasm. It completely won the heart of a brave officer, E- , the Irish patriot; it was too touching to be soon who paid his addresses to her, and thought that one so forgotten. During the troubles in Ireland he was tried, true to the dead could not but prove affectionate to the condemned, and executed, on a charge of treason. His living. She declined his attentions, for her thoughts fate made a deep impression on public sympathy. He were irrevocably engrossed by the memory of her former was so young, so intelligent, so generous, so brave, so lover. He however persisted in his suit. He solicited everything, that we are apt to like in a young man. His not her tenderness, but her esteem. He was assisted by conduct under trial, too, was so lofty and intrepid. The her conviction of his worth, and her sense of her own Doble indignation with which he repelled the charge of destitute and dependent situation, for she was existing