Do not you think, my dear madam, the story we heard at old Johnson's a very odd one? The account he gave of Julia's terror amazes me; what could she have seen? As for Johnson's story I should think nothing about it, as ignorance is generally accompanied by superstition; but Julia's mind is an enlightened one, and I remember formerly she used to laugh at the idea of the of spirits; therefore would not have been easily alarmed. Perhaps it is something she discovered there which depresses her spirits, and affects her health. I wish I knew what it was, that I might, if possible, relieve her, and dispel the gloom which obscures her mind.I hear Walsingham coming up.Good night, dear madam, I will soon write again.

appearance

CAROLINE WALSINGHAM. (To be continued.)

Of those, that lawless and incertain
Imagine howling! 'tis too horrible!
thoughts
The weariest and most loathed worldly
life,

That age, ach, penury, imprisonment
Can lay on nature, is a paradise
To what we fear of death.'

Bending o'er the silent sod, reflection told him that life is a passing shadow, a waking dream; and all human grandeur a scene of folly. Let the vain court the hand of am

bition: Let obsequious meanness bend to tyranny in power; but let me dedicate my little day of life to Him who gave it.'-Ere he took his last farewell of the everlasting home of his departed friend he plucked from the turf some wildflowers that waved their gentle foliage over his remains, while he feasted in the luxury of medita tion.

Grief's sharpest thorn hard pressed on his breast, He strove with wakefulmelody to cheer The sullen gloom.

He returned with the flowerets in his hand-he said they would constitute a memorial. He proposed giving a part of them to her who once claimed the friendship and the love of the deceased.

With tears,' he exclaimed, will she snatch from me so dear a prize! but, alas! how afflicting must that moment be; it will draw from the eyes of the hapless maiden a flood of tears!-tears of sorrow, sympathy, and affection!'-As he uttered these words I beheld the manly tear

Stand trembling in his eye; And the deep sigh, tho' half suppress'd,

rays of the rising sun reflected faintly on the fields which were stripped of the harvest; the air no longer resounded with the melody of birds; the dull silence which reigned was only interrupted by the screams of those birds of passage which were about taking leave of us for a more temperate climate. This, indeed, is a very curious ar◄ ticle in natural history, and furnishes a striking instance of a powerful instinct impressed by the Creator. Thomson, in noticing their disappearance in Autumn,

says,

As I crossed the fields the prospect which Nature presented, demanded reflection. The neighbouring meads were no longer covered with flocks of sheep, nor enlivened by their bleating, yet miration. This is the season, the there were beauties to inspire adhappy season, wherein the charms of Summer give place to more luxurious enjoyments. The boughs of the apple-tree bend under the weight of that golden fruit; the melting pear, the sweet plum, the mellow grape, and numerous other fruits too tedious to mention, seem now to invite the hand to pluck them. With what goodness the And ought not we to be thankful wise Creator distributes his gifts!

The forests are heralds of his boun ty, and thou, O man! must be guilty of much ingratitude if thou art insensible to this blessing, of

no more,

And dead to joy forget my heart to beat.'

The morn was very clear and fine; and ere I had rambled far entered a little coppice, and taking my seat upon the trunk of an old tree, I amused myself for some time with a book, but was on a sudden surprised, at so early an hour, by the appearance of a beautiful female rustic, who was fast approaching me with a little hookstick in her hand, and followed by a little girl and boy, each with a little basket. As she passed I (rather impertinently, I confess) exclaimed Good morning, my dear.'-'Good morning, sir,' she returned, with a blush, and voice that conveyed delight to my ears. I arose from my seat, and asked if I might be allowed to accompany her whither she was going. Oh no, Sir! I thank you,' she replied; I am not going far, we are only going in search of a few nuts. With your permission, my dear,' I exclaimed, so will I. You are perfectly at liberty, sir,' she cried, without that solicitation.'-I thanked her for her kindness, and accompanied her. As I walked by her side I was enchanted with the beauty of her person, her animated countenance, her fine complexion, and the modesty of her deportment. Never did the Egyp

tian queen, when decked with costly pearls, and dying with love, display half the charms of this artless creature; nor could I figure Ve nus more attractive, when in her favourite Adonis. I cannot help Idalian groves she caressed her quoting the description which the immortal Shakspeare gives us of a lovely woman he surely must have seen a maid like this:

Fair, lovely woman, young and affable, More clear of hue, and far more beautiful

Than precious sardonyx, or purple rocks

Of amethysts, or glittering hyacinth. Beauteous and stately as the eye-train'd bird;

As glorious as the morning wash'd with dew,

Within whose eyes she takes the dawning beams,

And golden Summer sleeps upon her cheeks!!

We soon reached the destined grove, and I enjoyed the pleasing task, to fill their baskets with nuts, which having done, she approached me with graceful modesty, and glancing a timid look, kindly thanked me for my attention, and the trouble she had occasioned me. I was at this moment almost fascinated. I squeezed her lily hand, and was going to steal a kiss, but I was stopped by the recollection of the dear ******. Within myself I exclaimed, A beauty has made a forcible impression on my feelings, but it is because she has thy charms, thy features, and thy attentions. No, my ******, never will I cloud the serenity of thy brow by that demon, Jealousy! Thy empire, cruel maid! over my heart, is not to be shaken.'-We shook hands and parted; and I resumed my ramble, which soon brought me to the high road, and

changed is every prospect; that which once gave such placid delight is now dull and alarming. Once, no black reflections arose to make me regret the past,-no painful, dreadful thoughts to make me fear the future.-Once my beloved parents studied my peace, and seemed to derive their felicity from mine:-once, they could clasp a spotless daughter to their bosoms, and innocence and plenty crowned my hours with delight.' At this moment a stage overtook us; she begged of me to stop it, which I did, and helped her up. We shook hands; she wished me every happiness her tongue could. express, and they drove of.-I regretted I had not her address.— 'Alas!' said I,

(While my tears fell, and my looks follow'd her,)

Poor loveliness! those charms which

now attract

Passing attention, once, perchance, have grac'd

The social hearth, and o'er domestic joys. Cast a pure splendour.'

As they disappeared I uttered to myself the following soliloquy: Hapless female! may peace and serenity crown the remainder of thy days with uninterrupted happiness; and when surrounded by thy forgiving parents, bestow sometimes a thought on him who will ever remember thy luckless fate; the impression thy sufferings have made time can never destroy.-Making the best of my way home, I thought of the following lines, with which I finish my not uninteresting walk in

Autumn:

Ah! thy reign Hath been but brief; thy wondrous beauty's power Hath fail'd, perchance, because thy heart retain'd

IN the last number of the Lady's Magazine I find a letter addressed to me from you; allow

me to make a few observations on its contents, in reference, to my annexed motto. I am inclined to believe you never met with ‘a disappointment in a tender attachment;' and happily for you, you have never experienced its effects. I may fairly conclude that when you and the partner of your bosom strayed through the windings of Benton Vale' your affectious were reciprocal, and that your throbbing hearts palpi

tated in unison.'

• Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep.'

I congratulate you in your feli city; and far distant may that