and rolled upon the ground; and glancing terrified round, she beheld the cavern strewed with the mangled limbs of the victims to an unnatural appetite. The warning of the anchorite to avoid the den of the canibal, now flashed upon her remembrance, with all the horrid consciousness that she stood within its very verge. Terror took possession of her soul; and for a moment, as if spell-bound, her trembling limbs refused to aid her flight. But then the hope that she was yet unobserved renewed her courage, and with the speed of lightning she flew towards a hill that gently rose before her. But the noise of her footsteps, as she left the cave, had awakened that monstrous and inhuman family; and with a yell of delight, the father savage sprang to the pursuit. Terror and despair winged her flight; but she was unused to such swiftness, and every moment the rapid pace of her pursuer gained upon her failing steps. She reached the brow of the hill, but there she sunk

overwhelmed with horror; and at that moment the keen grasp of the canibal fixed upon her throat. His haggard ghastly features, and eager glaring eyes, gleamed upon his victim, and seemed to triumph in the agonized despair of her countenance. But just as he had seized her, just as he deemed her completely, irrevocably in his power, some one smote him from behind, and loosing his grasp from the fainting Flora, he turned with a yell of pain and rage towards his assailant; but the strong muscular limbs, and brandished weapon of the stranger, put combat out of the question; and foiled of his prey, he bounded with the swiftness of a deer down the side of the mountain. The other did not attempt to follow, but turning to the lovely girl he had just saved, he raised her gently from the ground, endeavouring to calm her fears. But when he gazed on her countenance, some strange idea, some long-gone remembrance, some hope, vague and undefined, like a summer meteor, but

as

as brilliant as the flash that startles the unexpecting darkness of the night, came suddenly upon his mind, and he had nearly suffered her to drop from his arms. "Heavens!" exclaimed he, "is it possible? I should know that face; it is-I cannot be deceived! Flora! my own Flora!” Flora raised her eyes to the face of the young stranger. It was enough-and she hid them on his bosom.-" Yes, indeed,” whispered she, "your own Flora. Do not speak your name-I know you toomy friend, my brother, my deliverer. At that moment the form of Cuthbert, the wizard priest, stood beside them, and with a look of triumph he raised his hands over their heads, exclaiming,

"Tis done, 'tis done,

The sand is run;

Fate has unwound

The hank that bound.

They have met-the day is won.

The scythe of time that strews the plain,

With all man's monuments of pain,

Scarce another flower shall mow,

As on his winding path ye go;

But

But slow, yet brilliantly, shall pass,
The golden sand within his glass;.
Go, taste the purest joys of youth,
Love, with ardour and with truth,
Tread religion's pleasant way,
Walk in virtue's sunny ray;
Onward speed unto that goal,
Whose passage mortals all must thole;
Joy shall light you with his smile,
Hope shall every wo beguile;

Content shall sit to watch life's hours,
And love shall strew a bed of flowers;

If by wish of such as me,

Yet another joy may be;

Here, each sweet of heaven be sped,
Be my blessing on your head."

The thunder had ceased, the rain had passed away, and the cloud that had obscured the brightness of the heaven, had fled upon the wings of the wind that bore it, leaving the sky as clear as the purest day of spring can be; and the earth gemmed with the glittering drops of rain, even more cheerful from the storm that had just passed.

66

"Even thus," cried the wizard; even thus is it with the life of man.

The

morning

morning beams fair, and he dreams not of danger; the storm of misfortune rises; the tempest of sorrow dulls the scene; the lightning of despair rends his heart, and prostrate he falls before the outstretched arm of desolation. But the wind of time wafts the clouds away; the sky seems clear; the sun of pleasure shines upon him, and he forgets that the storm has been, nor fancies that it will ever come again. But warning is still in vain. Let us on upon our path; for this day at least virtue shall be rewarded, and vice shall receive its chastisement. To St. Mary's let us speed;" and he led the way to the boat; while Flora, following with the young stranger, on whose arm she leaned, listened with alternate smiles and blushes to the tale he seemed to tell. But at length his words appeared to raise some other sensation in her breast, and starting back with horror-"Tried to murder you!" she exclaimed. Wretch then he believes you dead ?"

"Hush!"