that moment one of the ladies present made some allusion to the case of an intimate friend who had recently been separated from her husband, and indulged in some very bitter reflections on the conduct of the latter; but immediately recollecting the similarity of the situation of her friend to that of Lady Ruthven, she stopped, and would willingly have recalled her expressions. It was now too late; and Lady Ruthven listened and replied with a serenity which was astonishing. "In circumstances like these," she said, "there is commonly much to be repented of by both parties. Youth and inexperience are too prone to give and to take offence; and even the calmest tempers are not always proof against the provocation of a hasty word; especially" (and she blushed slightly)" where a union is founded on mutual affection; for a strong attachment has always in its composition something of jealousy! Domestic differences generally arise from accidents so trivial in themselves, that, however wounding they may be to the feelings of the individuals concerned, they appear not a little ridiculous when published with comments and embellishments to the world. The less that is said of them the better." She paused, and looked as if she feared she had said too much. "I know of a case," said a low melancholy voice, “in which the repentance should be all on one side." It was Morton. He was quite abstracted from all considerations but one, and seemed hardly conscious that he had given utterance to his thoughts. Lady Ruthven appeared as if she understood not the allusion, and the subject was dropped. Every one present, however, seemed too much interested to converse with freedom on any other, and the company soon after separated. "She is more beautiful than ever," said Morton, as we left the house. What was the cause of this opinion? for the form of Lady Ruthven was too true a witness of the painful conflict her soul had endured. Her cheeks had lost their colour, and her eyes beamed with the light of serenity, but no longer sparkled with the rays of youth. Her present attractions were derived from other sources; less striking to a transient spectator; but less fallacious, and less evanescent. Morton had been accustomed to admire in Lady Ruthven the perpetual animation of her manner, the constant smilingness of her countenance, the unceasing brilliancy of her wit. But the charm he had this night found in her behaviour was greater than these; it was "the Beauty of Holiness!" Morton saw her no more. He left this country shortly afterwards, being desired to travel for the benefit of his health. But his appearance on his departure plainly told me that the endeavour would be unavailing. My friends," said he, as he left me for the last time, "have long flattered themselves that I have been recovering, and I have suffered them to believe so; but you and I, my dear Courtenay! always knew that it would come to this." 66 Since his death a small collection of poems, written by him at different periods of his life, has been put into my hands, which I shall insert, from time to time, in "The Etonian," with the signature of "E. M.” As for Mary, her health declined gradually, but her fortitude continued unimpaired. The approaches of the dissolution to which she looked forward with more of confidence than of alarm, became rapid and apparent. My mother was latterly much with her, and I thus had frequent opportunities of observing her tranquillity in sorrow, and her efforts to hide the struggles by which that tranquillity was produced. When her illness had come to such a height that ultimate recovery was impossible, it was judged proper that she should be made acquainted with her situation. Both her parents had died shortly after her marriage, and she had few relations to leave behind her, save that sister who would not yet persuade herself that there was no hope. The probability of her speedy departure from this world was cautiously hinted to her: she received the intelligence as a thing which she had expected, and replied with a smile, "I have been long aware of this, my good friends; longer, perhaps, than you yourselves have been; and I am pleased that you do not so far suspect me of weakness as to withhold from me the truth." She then desired her child to be brought to her; and, taking from her bookcase a small Bible, she showed to my mother the child's name written by Lord Ruthven in a blank leaf:-" It was given to the child," she said, "by her father; and I wished to put it into her hand myself before I left her motherless as well as fatherless." In that interview she instructed the child in a beautifully impressive manner in the advantages to be derived from that book, and the duties which she owed to her father, whose gift it was, and concluded by repeating to her sister, "Wilt thou teach her to say Father,' Though she must that name forego?", This was the only allusion that she was ever heard to make to her deserted condition. A few days previous to her death she expressed a wish to see her husband once more; and though there was little hope that his Lordship would arrive before her decease, a messenger was despatched to request his immediate return. It is said that he was visibly and strongly agitated by this unaffected summons; but his behaviour, when, upon his arrival, he found that she had expired a few hours be fore, had more the appearance of embarrassment than of emotion. When her death was only a few hours distant, Dr. Mervyn and another medical attendant supposed that she had fallen into that state of insensibility which frequently is the immediate forerunner of death, and were expressing their pity for her misfortunes, and their de testation of Lord Ruthven's character, in the most unequivocal terms. But her reason was still firmer than they imagined. "Gentlemen," she said, with greater energy than she had exerted for many weeks, "your good sense should tell you that these observations must not be made in the presence of Lady Ruthven." She left a letter to my mother, which she had originally signed "Mary Fitzroy," but she had corrected it to "Mary Ruthven," as if afraid of showing resentment in death. Soon after writing it she breathed her last in the arms of her sister. I know not whether this plain unvarnished tale is likely to interest the majority of my readers. But for myself, who have been an eye-witness of the sufferings I relate, (and God only knows how deep and how unmerited those sufferings were) I am sure that I shall seldom reflect without a tear upon the story of Mary Fitzroy. P. C. REMINISCENCES OF MY YOUTH. NO. I. "There's not a joy the world can give, like that it takes away, When the glow of early thought declines in feeling's dull decay." BYRON. THE VILLAGE SCHOOLMISTRESS-THE VICAR-ELLEN. SCENE of my best and brightest years! And dreams of the forgotten past, That Memory flings on all she views, Come fleeting o'er me!-I could look As when a dear and wayward child- All reckless of a bitterer lot. Then Glee was high, and on my tongue There is no change upon the scene, |