Walton he was taken ill-Miss Walton came to see him.-I'll now read. "He had scarcely finished them, when the door opened, and his aunt appeared, leading in Miss Walton. My dear,' says she, 'here is Miss Walton, who has been so kind as to inquire after you, in person.' I could observe a transient glow upon his face. He rose from his seat. If to know Miss Walton's goodness, said he, be a title to deserve it, I have some claim. She begged of him to resume his seat, and placed herself on the sofa besides him. I took my leave, Mrs. Margery accompanied me to the door. He was left with Miss Walton alone. She anxiously inquired after his health. I believe, said he, from the accounts which my physicians, unwillingly gave me, they have no great hopes of my recovery. She startled, as he spoke; but, recollecting herself immediately, endeavoured to flatter him into a belief, that his apprehensions were groundless. I know, said he, that it is usual with persons, at my time of life, to possess those hopes, which your kindness suggests; but I would not wish to be deceived. To meet death as becomes a man, is a privilege bestowed upon few. I should wish to make it mine, nor do I think, that I ever can be better prepared for it than now: it is that chiefly, which determines the fitness of its approach. These sentiments, answered Miss Walton, are just; but your good sense, Mr. Hartley, will acknowledge, that life has its peculiar value. As the province of virtue, life is ennobled; as such, it is to be desired. To virtue has the Supreme Direction of all things assigned rewards, even here, which ought to fix our attachment to it. The subject began

to overpower - Hartley lifted his eyes from the ground. There are, said he, in a very low voice, there are attachments, Miss Walton, His glance met hers. They both betrayed a confusion, and were instantly withdrawn. He paused some moments. I am in such a state as calls for sincerity, let that also excuse it. It is perhaps the last time we shall ever meet. I feel something particularly solemn in the acknowledgment; yet my heart swells to make it, awed as it is, by a sense of my presumption, and by a sense of your perfections. He again paused. Let it not offend you, to know their power over one so unworthy. It will, I feel, soon cease to beat, even with that feeling, which it shall lose the latest. To love Miss Walton, could not be a crime; if to declare it, is one, the expiation will be made. Her tears were now flowing without control. Let me entreat you, said she, to entertain better hopes; let not life be so indifferent to you; if my wishes can stamp any value on it; I will not pretend to misunderstand you-I know your worthI have known it long-I have esteemed itwhat would you have me say?—I have loved it as it deserved. He seized her hand, a languid colour reddened his cheek, a smile brightened faintly in his eye. As he gazed on her, it grew dim, it fixed, it closed; he sighed, and fell back on his seat.-Miss Walton shrieked at the sight. His aunt and the servants rushed into the room-they found them both lying motionless together.-His physician happened to call at that instant; every art was tried to recover them; with Miss Walton they succeed ́ ́ ́ed, but Hartley was gone for ever!"

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asked Silviana, Very much so it would melt nearly finished?'

"Is it not indeed affecting?" tears glistening in her eyes. indeed,' answered Ferdinand, the stoutest heart; have you All but a leaf, or so,' said she. Well then,' said he, as it is rather late, suppose we postpone it till to-morrow, and Charles' likewise; so good night.'

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Ferdinand it seems liked his bed, so if thou be agreeable, reader, we will, for a little, leave them, and follow his example, as I am sleepy whatever thou may'st be.*

CHAPTER VI.

"Tired Nature's sweet rest ever, balmy sleep;
He, like the world, his ready visit pays,
Where fortune smiles! the wretched he forsakes!
Swift on his downy pinion flies from wo,

And lights on lids unsullied with a tear."-YOUNG.

"Muttering, the winds at eve, with blunted point, Blow hollow blustering from the South. Subdued, The frost revolves into a trickling thaw."-THOMPSON.

Nine o'clock the next morning, saw them all assembled to breakfast; for they followed not the example of many of the Quality, by lying in bed till almost noon! after which, the

*No wonder that I was sleepy, considering that I had been employed the whole of the day in butching and planting potatoes, (Friday, May 3rd, 1833.) till six o'clock in the evening! Then I got to writing in my study till one o'clock the following morning, when Morpheus so smoothly encircled me, within his arms. that (knowing I had to arise again at three to go to Appleby Market) I at last yielded to his embrace.

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old folks having left them to themselves, Silviana, at the desire of Ferdinand and Augustus, concluded the Man of Feeling. (Julia being absent.)

However, as thou mayest, kind reader, think me unjust in not letting thee hear it; I'll e'en humour thee; Silviana again began: (Chap. Ivi. p. 112.)

"I entered the room where his body lay; I approached it with reverence, not fear: 1 looked; the recollection of the past crowded upon me. I saw that form, which, but a little before, was animated with a soul, which did honour to humanity, stretched now, void of sense, life and feeling. "Tis a connexion we cannot easily forget; I took his hand in mine; I repeated his name involuntarily; I felt a pulse in every vein; I looked earnestly in his face; his eyes were closed, his lips pale and motionless. There is an enthusiasm in sorrow, that forgets impossibility. I wondered that it was so. The sight drew a prayer from my heart; it was the voice of frailty, and of man! the confusion of my mind began to subside in thought; I had time to weep! I turned with the last farewell upon my lips, when I observed old Edwards standing behind me; I looked him earnestly in the face, but perceived his eye was fixed on another object. He pressed betwixt me and the bed, and stood gazing on the breathless remains of his benefactor. I spoke to him, I know not what, but he took no notice of what I said, and remained in the same attitude as before; he stood some minutes in that position, then turned and walked towards the door; he pansed as he went; he turned a second time; I could

observe his lips to move, as he looked on the dead corpse, but the words they would have uttered were lost. He, with slow and mournful steps, went again; and a third time returned as before. I saw him whipe his cheek, then, with his hands, he covered his face, his breast heaving with the most convulsive throbs, he retired from the room."

"THE CONCLUSION. He had hinted that he should like to be buried in a certain spot near the grave of his mother. This is a weakness, though nearly universally incident to human nature; it is at least, a memorial for those who survive; for some, 'tis true, a slender memorial will serve; and the soft affections, when employed that way, will build their structures, were it but on paring of a nail. He was buried in the place he had desired. It was shaded by an old tree, the only one in the church-yard, in which was a cavity worn by time. I have sat with him in it, and counted the tombs. The last time we passed there, I thought he looked wishfully on the tree; there was a branch of it that bent towards us, waving in the wind; he loosely played his hand, as if he mimicked its motion. There was a something predicted in his looks! perhaps its foolish to remark it, but there are times and places, when I act a child in those things. I oftentimes visit his grave; I sit in the hollow of the tree. It is worth a thousand homilies; every noble feeling and sensation arise within me! but it will make you hate the world; no, there is such a gentleness around, that I can hate nothing; yet, as to the world, I pity the men in it.”