strictly honourable, but severe and mo- we wept together. Our sports, and studies, and tears, were in communion. As I advanced in years I felt how dangerous her presence became, yet had not the power to fly from it. M. de Pwas wealthy, and his daughter the sole heiress to his fortune. I scorned to wrong my benefactor by beguiling away the affections of his lovely and innocent child, for I knew that all his hopes were centered in her ;and I could not, if a world had been my recompence, have destroyed them. I once hinted my wish of going to my guardian, but he would not listen to it. I was thus compelled to hear the too fascinating voice, and meet the glances of the beautiful dark eyes of Henriette. I had attained my eighteenth year when M. de P― retired to his chateau near the village of R- -, where we had resided but two days when I took the evening ramble to which I have alluded. From that time we were less together, for she read my feelings-and if she did not love, I am sure she pitied me. A few months afterwards the young Count de B- —— came on a visit. He saw and loved Henriette. If any living being deserved her, it was the Count de B- for he had not only inherited the title of nobility, but also every qualification of the head and heart that is calculated to adorn it; yet I thought-but this perhaps was vanity-that she received his addresses more for her father's sake than her own. On the morning that she was to leave the chateau to accompany her father and the Count to Paris, I was confined to my room by indisposition. A gentle tap at the door told me that Henriette was come to bid me adieuand for ever. I trembled, and the pulses of my heart seemed to pause.— She entered. The paleness of my cheeks seemed to startle her-" I am afraid you are not well, Charles," she uttered feebly-and took my hand.Her voice, which once so enlivened me, now almost broke my heart. I sank back in my chair, and covered She was of the liveliest disposition in my eyes with my hand. "Charles, the world; and, by degrees, her sweet (she added), I come on a mournful ersmile taught me cheerfulness. We rand-we must part-perhaps for ever played together-we learnt together--and”—she burst into tears; but sud Henriette, We arrived in France. the daughter of M. de P two years my elder, and beautiful As a young rose-bud opening slowly, Kiss'd by the breath of May. denly, as if recollecting herself, turned away to conceal them then, assuming a more composed air, she continued :— "I know and admire your feelings,and were I allowed to follow my own, I but it is a sin to think of it now. No!" added she, with more firmness, "we must part! Forget that you ever knew Henriette. But no! no! I do not ask that. Think of her sometimes-but think of her as of a sister-a sister that has always loved you, Charles. Seek among your own countrywomen one, who will make your days, and weeks, and years, pass as a dream of faery.Farewell! my father (she was too kind to say her lover) awaits me." She pressed her lips for the last time against my burning forehead, and rushed out of the chamber. I sat for a moment without the power to speak or even to think. My sense of feeling, as well as happiness, had fled with Henriette. -- Struck to the heart, and motionless with grief, On a sudden the sound of carriage wheels aroused me from my stupor. I was too weak to walk, but contrived to crawl on my hands and knees to the window, which overlooked the street, and supported myself by clinging to the cornice work at the side. Henriette advanced to the carriage-one foot was already on the step-she turned, and, as if involuntarily, looked towards the window of my apartment-but, on seeing me, hurried tremblingly into the coach-and our eyes never met again. M. de P and the Count de B- -followed-the door was closed-the postilion drove off-and Henriette was lost to me for ever. I followed the carriage with my eyes, until it became a speck on the horizon, and at length totally disappeared. The few remaining energies which that moment of trial had called into play, now forsook me, and I sank down in a state of utter helplessness and exhaustion, both of body and mind. Henriette, Ea sola voluptas solamenque mali, was dead to me, and I was again in the world, wretched, friendless, and alone. The letter, which I received from her on the day subsequent to her de parture, is to me alternately a source of pleasure and pain. In my happier moments it makes me melancholy-in sorrow it is a comfort. I have preserved it for many years, and, come what will, it shall go down to the grave with me. (London Mag. June.) THE MILL. HOW sweet it is in summer to shake off drowsy sleep, And to stroll along, the fields among, as day begins to peep; Before the sun has yet begun to rear his golden head, While the hedges yet and the flowers are wet with the dew that night has shed ; And while around the verdant ground all nature's voice is still, Save the current strong that rolls along to turn the neighbouring mill. Oh! then my hasty steps to some eminence I bend, Where, far beneath, the spacious heath, and groves and fields extend ; To behold from far, in his golden car, the glorious sun arise ; Till on every side the clouds divide, and high above the hill He darts his beams, and gilds the streams, that turn the neighbouring mill. Before his piercing glance all the vapours fade away, And the meadows green distinct are seen beneath his glowing ray; The birds forsake the leafy brake, and echoing far around, (Sel. Mag.) RECOLLECTIONS OF THE PENINSULA. BY THE AUTHOR OF · PERHAPS there are few works of a lighter kind, which are written so as to please the imagination and interest the feelings, will be considered as more entertaining, and, upon the whole, less injurious to our higher faculties and pursuits, than the volume now before us. Some years had transpired, before the animated describer of the scenes which he had witnessed during the arduous and glorious campaigns in Portugal and Spain, from June 1809, to July 1813, gave his entertaining narrative to the public. He was but a youth of nineteen, when he first joined the army in Portugal; who had "burst half educated from the study, and carried with him to the camp little but the imperfect though fond recollections of his earlier pursuits." The time which has since elapsed has probably considerably improved his mind; and had he published immediately on his release from the confinement of a prison, we can scarcely suppose that we should have had so many judicious reflections as those which now not unfrequently adorn his pages. There is also an air of truth and naïveté throughout the whole relation which conveys an irresistible impression that the author relates both what he saw and what he felt at the time. Indeed, were we asked what was his peculiar skill, we should say, that it consists in the art which he possesses of making his reader a partaker with him in all that he describes: that art which chiefly adorns the poems of Crabbe, and which so eminently at tracts us in all the compositions, both prose and verse, of Cowper. He excels also in his description of scenery, and in a lively terse way of relating an ecdotes. Our intention is chiefly to let our young soldier speak for himself, and to follow him in his desultory narrative, by selecting those passages which seem most worthy of attention, either for their interest or their usefulness. Plan and arrangement we shall in vain look for in a work which professes to be no SKETCHES IN INDIA.' thing more than a narrative of those daily occurrences which left a strong and lively impression upon the author's mind. But the preface is so short and so perfectly in harmony with the work itself, that we consider it as a sufficient introduction to the volume before us. "The following pages have occupied and amused the leisure of my winter evenings, in a dull uninteresting garrison on home service. I relate what I saw, thought, and felt, as a man, a traveller, and a soldier, during five interesting years. The style of a soldier can need no apology: it is beneath the notice of a scholar and the critic. We pass our lives in conversing with mankind; We only they in conversing with books. observe and draw hasty conclusions; they observe, compare, and study. Ours is a life of action; theirs of repose. We write to amuse; they to instruct.” On his arrival at Lisbon, July 1809, he found the British troops encamped in the Prince's Park. "In an old ruined house, the only building in or near the encampment, the mess of my regiment still held its social sittings; and here, round a rudely constructed table teaus, stones, or knapsacks, we enjoyed our of casks and planks, seated on portmanevening far more than we had often done at a board better provided, and in the most commodious mess-room. The conversation no longer ran in the same dull, unvarying strain, on scenes of expensive folly and fa tiguing amusement; the dignity of our profession, which will naturally in such scenes glide from our view, again rose before us, arrayed in its best and brightest co lours." The earliest employment of the lei sure of our young traveller, was of course to view the novel scene to which his profession had brought him. In his first survey, the beggars which he saw indolently lying in large groups around the gateways of the palaces, and only imploring charity by an outstretched hand, led to the following explanation of a conduct, which at first appeared so extraordinary to an Englishman, who had been accustomed to the importunity of a British mendicant.— "In the southern countries of Europe openly professing the Roman Catholic Reli gion, the giving of alms is considered an imperative duty; and, according to their means, all persons supply the wants of the necessitous. From the gates of the con vents, from the kitchen of the wealthy, food is daily distributed to a certain number of mendicants; and there is no person, however humble his condition, if it be above want, who does not give something in charily every day of his life!" On the mode in which this kindness is exerted, or the tenet of the Romish Church," the merit of good works," from which it most probably takes its rise, it is not our intention to enlarge; we cannot, however, refrain from expressing the wish, that the example of our Popish brethren were more implicitly followed among ourselves. How would the cause of philanthropy prosper, if every Protestant, or even every serious Protestant, considered it as an imperious duty, that no day should pass by, in which he had not at least endeavoured for the glory of his Saviour, to do some act of kindness to his fellowcreatures, in addition to the constant routine of daily family duties: and that not merely by giving an alms, which, unaccompanied by attention and care must be regarded as the lowest, and generally the worst kind of benevolence; but by some real endeavour to promote the good of others, by whatever kind of assistance might lie in his power. In the course of his rambles, our author was kindly received in one of the Portuguese convents; and the feelings with which he states their reception, disgrace neither the head nor the heart of our young warrior. "This was the first convent I had ever seen; nor could I find it in my heart to apply to its inmates the contemptuous epithets with which they are too often branded. While I regret that any government or religion should condemn so many of its members to a life of cheerless celibacy and useless devotion, I am far from despising or even blaming the unhappy victims of ecclesiastical policy and pride; for, believe me, the discipline of the wealthiest orders is sufficiently austere to shut out all those enjoyments of life, which are so generally and so highly prized; and there are few, if any of us, who rail at monks, who could consent, even from a sense of duty, to lead the insipid and wearisome lives of these unhapPy men." The following reflection upon the constant open churches in the Roman Catholic countries, is very pleasing, as it bespeaks a feeling sense of devotion, highly honourable to the writer. "In the hour of affliction, distress, or terror, hither they come; and here, protected and assisted by the holiness and solemnity of the place, they repose their sorrows and their fears in the bosom of their God.-Oh! there are, I believe, moments in the life of every and to throw himself at the foot of the altar, man, when to fly to a consecrated temple, unsummoned by any bell for prayers, but urged solely by the tone of his mind, and the overflowing of his heart, must be felt as a pure and holy pleasure." We must not omit to mention the great and laudable attention our young officer paid to the acquisition of the Portuguese and Spanish languages.He speaks of his grammar as being the best company possible when confined to the lines of the encampment. suffered no peasant, muleteer, &c. to pass his tent without speaking to them; and by this practice he soon became able to understand the natives, and to be understood himself. He justly remarks that He "The pride of a man of any intellect receives a severe wound when he is first thrown into a circle of foreigners, whose conversation he cannot understand."-"To a military man some knowledge of the language of the country which is the theatre of war is indispensable; and if it should not, as is frequently the case, prove an introduction to notice, it cannot fail of being a continued source of pleasure and advantage." These judicious remarks may be extended to the younger student at home, who may bitterly lament, in after life, the culpable neglect of the advantages placed within his reach, and still more the habits of idleness which he has acquired, and which form the strongest of barriers to the retracing of his steps, or the recovery of his lost ground. Indeed, through the whole of the way in which we accompany our interesting soldier in his travels, we may easily perceive that this fault does not lie at his door; he must have well profited by his previous education, to have acted and thought as he did at the age of nineteen; no idle youth from the school-room could possibly have resembled bim. On the eventual good resulting in the Peninsula from all the devastating tyranny of Buonaparte, our author makes the following encouraging remarks. whither can we go for comfort? The sad bosom and the rayless eye are ill calculated to inspire new loves or attract new friendship. O! I can imagine many cases, where the calm of a retired monastery would af ford consolation to the wounded spirit.Would that cloisters were only filled with such children of misfortune!" "Ecclesiastical government, monastic pride, and the withering tyranny of the priesthood have shrunk before it; and though I hear it daily asserted that the priests in the Peninsula again exercise their baleful influence over the liberty and happiness of the people, still I am convinced that the authority of the Church in Spain and Portugal has received a blow from the If a more mature or rigid judgment effects of which it can never perfectly recover. The seeds of a new and better may refuse unqualified assent to these order of things have been sown ; and though concluding sentiments, we cannot but weeds may for a time obstruct their growth, be pleased with the sensibility which that speculative and daring hand which gave rise to them; though to use the clears the encumbered soil, will reap an abundant and healthy harvest." language of a well-known Christian philanthropist, it is far more interesting As a specimen of his graphic pow-to see how happy those may be, who ers we may quote his description of the town and environs of Cintra. "The scenery, as you approach this town is truly enchanting. The rich and variegated wood which clothes the side of the mountain rising above Cintra, the sunny brown, or rather the golden tinge of the massy sward towards the crest of it, and the bare, grey, rude-shaped rock, which crowns its lofty summit, form a picture such as only the pencil of a master or the pen of a poet could attempt to sketch with fidelity. The town itself, though considerably elevated, lies far below the mountain, and all around is beauty, shade, and repose. The white and furrowed bark, and the fantastic form and growth of the pale cork tree, the low dark olive, the green leaf and golden fruit of the orange,the trelliced vine, and the wild geranium, all here combine to deck the face of nature with charms, which to the eye of a northern visitor have new and irresistible attractions. We soon left our inn, and, mounted on asses, with two sprightly boys for our guides, set forth to visit the convent, which is built nearly at the top of the Cintra mountain. You lounge at your ease in any posture, on a large pack-saddle covered with a green cloth ;— and it is really surprising to see with how much safety and activity these animals carry you up paths, rocky, uneven, and dangerously steep. A monk received us at the gate of the convent, and conducted us all over it; it is a very perfect complete thing; but the sight of it is, for singularity and boldness, unrivalled. It is secluded, utterly secluded, from the world; yet here the eyes may range over the vast Atlantic, far as the strength of mortal vision permits, or may rest on lovely vales and dark-bosomed glens far beneath. The ear, too, may catch, on the one side, the hoarse voice of the rising storm, or may listen, on the other, to those pleasing and sweet sounds which speak of rural occupations and of rural happiness." "If a man at the age of fifty stood alone in the world, without wife, relative, or friend, to such a spot as this might he retire for life. When death carries off our little store of affection,by laying its icy hand on the hearts where that treasure was hoarded, habitually prefer the happiness of another to their own-to see real love, like a flower blooming amidst ruins, surviving the vigor of the body and all those attractions upon which it is thought to depend." Towards the end of July, the army began its march from Portugal into Spain. The account of their route is given in a lively, interesting manner. "I shall never forget my sensations on marching through the streets of Lisbon : these were filled with people : the windows crowded with faces wearing the kindest and most animated looks; loud, long, and continued vivas were poured forth on every side; shawls, handkerchiefs,and hands,were waving from every balcony; and the women threw flowers and garlands on our heads. "The troops were embarked upon the Tagus, to be transported some miles by the aid of that river. The northern bank from Lisbon to Villa Franca (about six leagues) presents a continued succession of rural beauties: convents, chapels, and quintas, gardens and vineyards, wood and verdure, in bright and gay confusion, arrest the eye cattle, and groups of villagers, all blended and address the heart. Here you saw, in their cool and shaded cloisters, small parties of monks, in the dark and picturesque dress of their orders, observing us as we passed along; there, some happy family, parents, children, and servants, would huredge, and salute us with smiles and vivas, ry to their garden-terrace on the water's while a little further in the back-ground, from the high and grated casement of her you might discern some solitary nun, who, convent, looked out upon the strange and brilliant show, and hastily withdrew," After describing the great individual kindness he received from the owners of the houses where he was billetted in the towns, he says,— "In these early marches, the villa, the monastery, and the cottage, were thrown open at the approach of our troops: the |