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At this moment the stranger, who had continued at no great distance from his fair companion, advanced with a smile to the gentleman who spoke, and laid his hand familiarly on his shoulder. The other started back-"God bless my soul, lord Burton P’ exclaimed he, aloud, “who could have expected to see you here?– how happy I am to see you!” and he shook him heartily by the hand. “But where do you come from ? not out of that

thing surely?” pointing to the stage. “Yes, indeed,” replied the peer: “near Wincanton, this morning, the axletree of my carriage gave way, and I was obliged to walk on some way to a little inn, by the road, while the damage was being repaired, and was very philosophically leeturing myself into patience, when this coach drove up. My patience was gone in a minute when I saw Exeter written

on the side—and here I am.”

“But what do you want at Exeter?” demanded demanded the other: “ you have some object?” . . . . - ... “Oh, certainly,” replied lord Burton; “and perhaps you may assist me. I wish to inquire for the family of a Miss Travers, who lived somewhere in that neighbourhood; she was educated by her uncle, doctor Wilson, who had the living of my own parish: he was a very benevolent man, and died without leaving any property. At his death lately, I gave the living to Malden, my tutor, and since then we have both been seeking for this young lady, whom I remember a beautiful curly-headed girl, of nine or ten years old, in the happier days of my youth. We have every reason to believe that her family have fallen in circumstances, and we cannot discover what has become of any of them. If you should hear, write

to Malden; you know him.” “Oh, well—intimately well,” replied the other; “the most amiable man that ever lived: I can conceive what you proD 5 pose

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pose by your search, Burton: if all men of your property had your benevolence, there would be but little distress in the world.” During this conversation the two gentlemen had walked a considerable way down the road, and the horses being now put to, lord Burton was obliged to return to the coach. As they came up, the eye of his companion chanced to fall on the caricatured dress of the young saddler, which he had not observed before.—“Oh, Jupiter!” exclaimed he, laughing aloud, “what a puppy the creature is! had you it in the coach with you, Burton?” Lord Burton replied in the affirmative, and stepped forward to hand in his fair fellow-traveller; and as he did so, his friend whispered him, with a look of no small admiration at the young lady— “Were it any other man than you, Burton, I should be suspicious.” “And without cause,” replied lord Burton, with a smile, and got into the stage. The The coachman still held the door open for the entrance of their former companion; but the young saddler had by this time discovered the rank of the person he concluded that he must have offended, and knew that, his own situation was equally well known—“I will go on the outside,” said he, doggedly, and moved

away from the sight of the peer. To both the inside passengers, the want of his society was no great deprivation; and as the coach proceeded, lord Burton, who began to conceive a considerable degree of interest in the fair traveller, gradually drew her into conversation. The modest gentleness with which she expressed herself, and a kind of unobtrusive melancholy, that mingled almost imperceptibly with all her ideas, harmonized so strongly with the predominant feelings of her companion's bosom, that the moments seemed to glide away, leaving no trace to mark their progress, except the soft, slight footstep of calm and unregretted pleasure; D 6 and and yet lord Burton wished that time would not fly so fast. Their conversation had hitherto been on subjects of taste or of literature; but it gradually turned to feelings and thoughts, to the hearts and actions of men. Lord Burton was often a dreamer, and he began to indulge a thousand imaginations, in regard to his companion, while he heard many of the warmest sentiments of his own heart come softened and refined from the lips of such perfect loveliness; and the thought, with pain, that the time must soon come, when they were to part, perhaps never to meet again.—“I am a fool”, thought he, at length; “how can I, tell that all these bright ideas, though expressed so gently and so elegantly, may not be assumed for the time, or may perhaps be the habitual disguise of a heart destitute of good? I, who have been so often deceived, why do I lend myself so often to deception?” But he looked up from his reverie, and his eyes suddenly met the soft melancholy

- glance,

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