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consented to your father's wish, and became countess of Holien, being fortunately prevented from following your own inclinations?'

Matilda answered with unusual spirit If ever commiseration touched your callous bosom, men' tion no more that sad day, nor all! the train of misfortunes and uneasy hours which have succeeded it; neither seek by any means to disparage so amiable a youth as was Burns, All the malice nor art human nature is capable of will ever sully the pure remembrance of his character;

answer at all. Matilda was alarm ed by his manner- Oh, my far ther exclaimed she, let me hear the worst, I beseech, you!' With difficulty he said, My dear girl, mention not his name; you know not what I suffer on hearing it. Here the anguish of his bosom overpowered his speech, and he remained a few moments motionless; Matilda was little better, not doubt ing but he had shared the fate of the unfortunate Burns. In faltering accents she exclaimed, Oh my fa.. ther! is he living? Have I yet an af fectionate brother, or have I not?.. his noble spirit soared far above the Do not distress me any more, my daughter; I know not where he is.: Mad-headed young man that he is! he has been in Scotland; then with lady Brampton. For his disobedience in visiting that hase Elfrida, I have banished him for ever from my presence; therefore if you wish to be reinstated in my favour mention him no more.'

"Heavens!' she involuntarily exclaimed, my brother unsettled in his mind! Once he was kind, harmless, and knew no guile: that is not the case now, or he would not thus have deserted me; because I can have given him no reason for his oruelty."

Her father's emotion, and her brother's wandering, convinced her there was some mystery with which she was not acquainted; she had now some slight suspicion that she had not been dealt fairly by. The countenance of the countess too, during this conversation, underwent many changes. The earl her husband paced the apartment apparent ly lost in thought. Thus for the present this affair rested; but her sister during the course of the day

took an

opportunity to wound her already lacerated feelings by saying, 'Now, Matilda, don't you look back with pleasure on the day when you

machinations of weak minds. The recollection that I was once beloved by so superior a being will bring a ray of comfort to this agonised heart so long as life remains; and when the all-wise Disposer of events shall call me from this world, I shall be united to the sole possessor of my whole affection, no more to feel the pang of separation: oh, bliss to much for frail mortal to dwell on ! My darling daughter claims my tenderest attention; sweet soother of many a solitary nour! May Heaven in its goodness spin out my wearisome thread of existence to shield her otherwise unprotected innocence

from those ills which have almost broken the heart of her unhappy mother!!

The countess could have patience to hear her, no longer, but began pouring forth her abhorrence of such obstinacy; when Matilda, to avoid her, abruptly quitted the room, after she had very candidly confessed her sentiments. In her haste she ran : against her father, who was just entering the apartment she was quit ting: he had overheard what she had been saying; a momentary gleam! of reproach entered his breast for his cruel treatment of her; he plainly perceived the fatal passion was wrap. ped around the very thread of her

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stranger in a military dress rushitigi into her apartments Overpowered with joy, she recognised her long lost brother Sydney. When she had a little recovered, she ventured to in quire after his lost friend.

existente; and he likewise as plainly triat wh re there was not sincere ates saw the ratages grief and disap- fection; but to meet with indifas pointment had made in a face and ference from the only person we form, once the most lovely in naturay truly love, and to 'whom even life! To see her so wretched, and entirely itself would not be too great a sacrion his own account, struck keenirée fice, is distressing to an extreme ait morse to his soul every day; to wite may be truly denominated one of the ness it was more than he could en real miseries of human life," not imali dure: therefore they soon took theid: ginary every feeling heart can testify departure, not much. regretted byn yet-Matilda; among all her catises of Matildagi for shefound very little grief, could now support this with! consolation in their society, as theyo calmness; thinking it more honbur still retained the same inflexibility of able to endure the afflictions sent by! nature, which first alienated her af- an all-wise Providence with patiences fections: from them. Her husband than to mudmur at 'dispensations wel was now quite a stranger to her; are taught tơi think for bar göödi having long had another object to although very often difficult is the FAVORY 1. femb engage bis attention; the second une task. fortunate victim to his baseness,!! In the midst of these her medita whom he had seduced under a fictions she was one day surprised by titious marriage: it therefore an swered his wicked purposes to keep the real countess secluded from the world; he could then own or desert her at his option. This elucidated the mysterious words she had heard: from the old friar; as the first un happy young girl's feelings were so wounded when she heard of the 'de ception practised to delude her from the paths of virtue, that she survived the shock but a very short time, and was interred in the chapel Time, as it had long done, rolled on with leaden wings, her whole attention was devoted to the little Martha, who became a charming companion by her innocent prattle, beguiling many a tedious hour. Long accuss tomed to a husband's indifference, she was determined to support it with firmness; indeed she never posed sessed his warmest affection: a heart so contaminated with vice could have but little to bestow, even had she possessed the whole, which; libertine like, was divided among sevetal.

As I have before observed, she was determined to support his indifference with firmness which was no great

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• Can you mention his name, Matilda?' said he, after such breach of your faith: cah 'yon so wrong your judgment as to prefer such a villain as Holden to the gal lant Burns? I can ill express the indignation I felt at your hype=" cricy; I was long before I could crea dit it, till your own letter convinced me that it was your own inclina→ tion."

Never, never, my brother! Hear all before you reproach me; then I am satisfied you will have no cause.

With difficulty she then related all that had befallen her since his de parture, accompanied by his muchvalued friends He was struck mos tionless on hearing the recital of so much perfidy All utterance died on his pallid lips he paced the rooth · with distraction depictured on his countenance. Is it possible, my sister,' said he, that a father should bo guilty of such barbarity entirely

to destroy his child's peace of mind for the sake of sordid ambition, so inconsiderable when put in competition with sincere affection? But the days of sincerity and humanity are at an end, and sophistry and obduracy of heart have succeeded. Poor Burns! what an age of distress has he suf fered!'

Maltilda heard no more; till then she was not certain that he was living, although from several parts of his conversation she had some rea son to expect it. When she recovered, he implored her, for the sake of her lovely little daughter, to moderate her grief, as he must. depart immediately (after asking one favour), unless his visit might be maliciously construed: she promised to grant it, if consistent with reason, But docs Burns yet live?' He does,' was the reply, but an outcast from society.'

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O grandeur! O mad infatuation! thou bane to all social happiness; but for thy influence should I have been happy with the object of my affections!"

Cease your wandering, Matilda; you must grant my request: he drags on a miserable existence-he intends to see you once more, then entirely to leave a country which has caused him such uneasiness, and in a foreign land seek an antidote for hopeless love. In Scotland your resemblance haunts him in the person of your dear sister Elfrida; there consequently he cannot remain. Whither he will, wander is at present unknown to himself. He now is wait ing for permission to have a last in terview: far better had it been had we bravely fallen fighting for our country, than to have lived to have seen you thus estranged from us. The little playful Martha that moment ran into the room: he ar gently kissed her; and bitterly sighing, consigned her to the care of her

unhappy mother, again-interceding for his friend's last adieu. Res member,' said he, Matilda, the affection the bears you; remember your cruel treatment of him: you was too carly persuaded against your own inclination. Your image, I am sure, is deeply engraven on his heart. He will never cease to think of you till every vision of this transitory scene shall be forgotten.'

She urged the anguish such an interview would occasion to both, and which now was of no avail, and the impropriety attending it; but her bro ther would take no denial. Martha would have followed him as he left the apartment, and as he turned to her his countenance spoke unutterable language. The little innocent, alarm, ed at his manner, thinking he was angry, ran hastily back to her mo ther, who shed over her a shower of tears.

Matilda passed a sleepless night, and in the morning a letter was given. Before she had time to break open the seal, a person rushed into the room;-it was Burns himself.

She was

Ah, Matilda!' said he, why do I live to see this day! why had not Heaven, in compassion to my agony, given me a resting-place where the wicked cease from trouble! Ho took her hand and pressed it to his heart: she could not support her sensations, but sank under them, apparently lifeless. The proper restoratives revived her. shocked to see the ravages made in his once fine features and form. Although his eyes had lost much of their vivacity, still the same fascinat ing address prevailed; the same ten, der expression beamed on his countenance which first captivated her young inexperienced heart.-Matilda uttered with vehemence, Why did I consent to see thee again? all this distress had better been avoided." He thought these words intended to

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convey reproof, and his whole frame tottered with agony.. Cold drops chased each other down his pallid face. Matilda gazed on him with frensy depictured on her features:Why reproach me?' said he have my sufferings for your sake not been enough? I am for ever bereft of peace, and by such infernal means! Your invaluable brother has informed me of all the arts used to ab solve our solemn vows of eternal love, and eternal I was always determined it should be: on my part I shall never retract them; never can I love another. This breast, once warm and susceptible, is now rendered cold as the frigid zone: still are my vows as pure as when they first escaped these trembling lips. How can I call to remembrance that scene? how dwell on so agonising a theme! yet it will return impressively to my eyes; and my very soul hangs over the recollection. My Matilda, so I shall ever call you, mine you are in the eyes of Heaven, though torn from me by such diabo lical means!'

Seeing the countess apparently inBensible, he fixed his eyes stedfastly on hers. My Matilda,' again he said, you don't seem to notice my being present; are you displeased at rny visit? Speak: I won't support your disdain; I have a remedy here,' franticly grasping his sword-Matilda shrieked; a sense of his danger aroused her from the reverie into which she was fallen. For Heaven's sake, forbear!' she exclaimed: I am not angry. Do you not know me better than to suppose I could be displeased with you?'

The door that instant opening, the little Martha ran to her with ineffable sweetness. The innocent child looked up in her face- My dear mother, is this the gentleman soldier you so often talk about? I

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am sure he is very unkind to make you cry so.'- My dear girl!' exclaimed she, I cannot support your presence now.' Here Burns took her up in his arms. Have you,' said he, so sweet a consoler of your troubles as this lovely child?' To which Matilda answered in the affirmative. Sweet little cherub!* continued he, " young as you are, I can plainly perceive the exact counterpart of your angelic mother in those infant lineaments; the matchless beauty is forcibly depictured. Inherit her virtues, her graces of person; but Heaven prevent her misfortunes from falling on thy head!'-Again Matilda requested him to permit the child to leave them, Burns entreated her to suffer her to remain. Do not, Matilda,' said he,

refuse me so trifling a favour; most probably it is the first and last time I shall enjoy her innocent prattle."-Then apparently recollecting himself, he added, How, how can I expect it, the thought is distraction: once I thought you mine by vows made in the presence of God, sanctioned by your brother. Your first letter after my arrival on the continent filled me with extacy; but that coldness in the subsequent one, that accusation of infidelity; and then your firm resolution of marrying the earl of Holden-Hea ven! how did I support it? At that critical juncture we could not leave France. By my absence all my measure of woe was accomplished. I must away from this part of the world; I cannot live to see you in the arms of another.'

A kind of convulsive motion rendered all utterance impossible on the part of the countess : the despondency, the wretchedness, of an object so worthy her tenderest affec tions, was more than her already op pressed feelings could endure. A

Hood of tears in some measure relieved her as she endeavoured to console him, to point out the folly of despair, but in such faltering accents as plainly showed she could not practise the lesson she dictated. (To be continued.)

To S. Y.

Does slighted love oppress thy heart,
Come, rouse thee, lad, nor yield to sorrow:
For should you and your mistress part,

A kinder may be found to-morrow."

SIR,

IN some of your poetical and prose contributions, inserted in the Ladies Magazine, I observe you hint at a disappointment in a tender attach ment, and that you continue to feel those unpleasing sensations which result from unrequited affection.

Shall I attempt to expostulate with you for bowing at the shrine of love's capricious deity? Shall I pres scribe a remedy for the infatuating malady? or shall I call ridicule to my aid, and try

"To laugh a frantic lover into sense?'

Why run to solemn shades and sympathetic glooms to brood over your fancied woes, and to cherish the pleasing, painful idea of the dear deceiver. Rather join the festive circle; single out some rosy damsel 'whose eyes can tell us what the sun is made of;' and may they meet in contact with yours, sparkling into joy, while your throbbing hearts palpitate in unison.

and splendid talents, who appears to have been exactly in your predica ment. 1 should not,' he exclaimed, 'mind crawling on my hands and knees round the globe, if by so doing I could gain the maid of my affections. These are expressions humiliating in the extreme to the masculine gender. Were all of your opinion, ye subverters of the rights of man! the lords of the creation must bow their haughty crests, resign their boasted superiority, and forfeit their magna charta, which Heaven, when Eve offended*, imparted to man.

In a poetical piece of yours, every
verse of which concludes with the
signature of your beloved Jemima
(no very poetical name for the mis-
tress of a poet), you avow, that you
fear your unhappy passion will ter-
minate your existence. I sincerely
hope that a kindlier fate awaits you,
and that you will leave to the heroes
of romance to die for love. Whilst
you were indulging the romantic
idea of dying for the idol of your
adoration, I wish to think, that,
I
poet-like, you were dealing in fic-
tion, and never had the remotest
thought of having recourse

To the tempting pool, or felon knife.'
COWPER

Bestir yourself, nor thus supinely droop; and if you have any dormant seeds of pride in your nature, let them vegetate, let them blossom, and bear the fruit-disdain.

Rouse yourself, and the weak wanton
Cupid

Shall from your neck unloose his am'rous
fold,

And, like a dew-drop from a lion's mane,

SHAKSPEARE..

be banished from your mind: its raLet not Hope, that guardian angel,

In your Morning Walk in Summer, Be shook to air. page 326, you say, that during your ranıble you pictured to yourself the dangers you would endure, if by the endurance you could obtain the object of your heart. This reminds me of a gentleman of great learning VOLA XXXVII.

.

• Ged. iii. 16.

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