De Winza. "Forbear, forbear," interrupted the affrighted IMMALINE, "think of your father,-think how his proud and haughty nature would feel at the disgrace his son would draw upon his name; beware DE WINZA, lest the curse of disobedience blast thee too,-farewell-we here must part; remember what I've said, and sometimes bestow a thought on my memory, when blest with the affections of some happier maid, think of her whose prayers shall be with you, think of her whose last sigh shall be offered for your happiness, but never breathe the name of IMMALINE DE MONTFORD.' "Cease, in pity cease," exclaimed DE WINZA. "Never "will I wed one but thee.-Hear me IMMALINE-distraction seizes me-you said you loved-oh, why hast thou flung that spell of witchery over my heart, why hast thou charmed me with thy truth and loveliness, and then cast the blight of desolation on my hopes, to crush them in the bud?" His whole frame shook with nervous agitation; a cold damp dew hung upon his brow, and the wild glance of his dark-blue eye gave to his countenance an expression of deep, determined import. Pale, cold, and still, in that despondency of feeling into which the heart subsides when all that it has prized is passing away, stood the hapless IMMALINE; tears stole down her cheeks, and a tone of settled melancholy dwelt upon her features, as, with a faltering voice she replied, "I never loved but one-and he is here!" "Heavenly powers!"-exclaimed DE WINZA, flinging himself at her feet, and pressing her pale hand to his lips, 66 am I indeed so blest!-Oh, it is all a dream,-speak to me IMMALINE tell me once again that I am loved-let my ears once more drink the blessed sounds, dear to my heart as the voice of mercy to the dying sinner;-despair and madness were within me and thou hast changed them into joy, into bliss unutterable; speak to me, say you will be mine-mine, dearest IMMALINÉ!" "DE WINZA! oh, DE WINZA!" was all the agitated girl could express, while her full blue eye, as she hung over him, was flooded with tears. It was a moment of ecstacy, and the still warm tear that fell upon his cheek, the mute eloquence of her downcast eye and the agitation of her frame as she struggled to escape from his passionate embrace, spoke more than all the pomp of words. Grasping her in impassioned energy, with one hand, whilst with the other he pointed to the moonlit sky,-" Yon solitary orb, shall witness to our Correspondence of a Lover. Vows; here where every breeze is still, where all around breathes peace and harmony, and echo yields no voice but to the sighs of love, here IMMALINE, swear you will be mine, and no earthly power shall divide us!" A glow of fervid animation rushed to her features, her frame trembled with rapturous emotion, her heart seemed struggling against the impetuosity of her feelings, as she cried "Thine for ever,” and sank in the arms of DE WINZA. (To be continued.) FRAGMENTS OF THE CORRESPONDENCE OF A LOVER. As the Editors are not at liberty to divulge the manner in which these papers came into their hands, they can only remark that the tale which is related is strictly true-and that the only alterations they have adopted are in names and residences, the publication of which would be uninteresting to the Public, and a violation of that secresy which they are enjoined to observe. Vale of Avoca—4th June. I cannot resist this opportunity of writing to you-my friend, Mr. **** whom you have seen with me, and who accompanied me down here, is returning to Dublin, and I entrust this letter to his care. When he calls on you with it, I beg you may give him whatever attention your leisure will permit, as he is one for whom I have a high regard, which I am confident will be some recommendation to your favour. You desired me to write to you when I should reach the Vale, and I had scarcely rested myself at the Meeting Cottage when I called for a pen and ink to fulfil your commands. We left Lara Barracks this morning after breakfast, but lingered at the Lake of Glendalough for a long time before we could prevail on ourselves to bid it adieuthe gloomy magnificence of the ruins, that stand like broken testimonials of religion which had fallen under the hand of time, but had not yet mouldered into oblivion-the silent and awful stillness that pervades the whole scene--the eternal twilight of the shores-the sombre majestyof the rifted mountains that look in sullen pomp from their elavation on the calm waters below-all filled our hearts with so deep and thrilling Correspondence of a Lover. a sensation that we did not easily recover our gaiety and spirits. As we continued our walk to Rathdrum (for pedestrianism is my favorite exercise) our thoughts were occupied by the remembrance of the wonders our guide related concerning the SEVEN CHURches. We saw nothing but St. Kevin and Kathleen-the lion and the serpent-the cross on the Robber's grave-and a hundred other traditionary appearances. Our imaginations carried us back to the giant he had spoken of-Fian Mac Columb, or, as he is called by the peasantry, Fan Ma Cool-and we fancied we beheld him standing on the ledge of the precipice, waving his unearthly steel with which he had divided the opposite mountain in two Moore's exquisite lines stole on our recollection, and I could not every now and then avoid humming Glendalough! thy gloomy shore, &c. We reached Rathdrum at dinner time; there is nothing remarkable in this little town, except that it contains a fine building called the Flannel Hall; it is situated romantically enough on the Avoca, but did not possess sufficient attraction to prevent us from continuing our journey in the evening towards the MEETING OF THE WATERS, a distance of about ten miles. We are in the Vale of Avoca at last, and I am inadequate to describe its beauties to you: if it had been a place but little spoken of, I would have felt less diffidence in writing about it, but when I hear its praises buzzing from every tongue, I would wish to be totally silent, as it is impossible to do justice to the picturesque scenery it presents. The Meeting is formed by the mingling of the Avon and the Avoca at this season the waters are very low, and present little better than the appearance of scanty streams; on one side stands the Meeting Cottage in a copse that overhangs the river-it is elegant and simple beyond description— on the other, Castle Howard, a stately and turretted edifice, rising amidst the mountain trees that conceal every thing but its lofty towers as they catch the eye of the distant traveller from the elevation on which they are reared-in the scene beyond, the ruins of an old castle heighten the sublime effect of the blue hills that swell in gradual succession over the entire. We did not, however, fully appreciate this Eden of our romantic hearts, until we reached the opposite side of the river immediately under Castle Howard. A lawn Correspondence of a Lover. interspersed with a variety of shrubbery trees, ran from a hermitage or moss house to the brink of the river-we paused to indulge the delightful associations it conjured up-here might the soul of feeling, freed from the bustle of the busy world, repose in undisturbed tranquillity, and slumber as placidly as those tides when they sleep calm and breathless under the moonlight. I felt a new sensation win me into secret devotion-Heaven and Earth-all that I worshippedall that I loved-flashed through my thoughts, with that rapidity of intellectual perception which is universally understood, but cannot be defined. I wandered from my companion into one of the clumps of trees that surrounded us-a few melancholy ideas for a moment unnerved me-I wished for the society of those but I dare not divulge all my thoughts to you-I fear you might condemn me—in that moment I felt -how the best charms of nature improve, When we see them reflected from looks that we love! * * leave these descriptions of scenery for a more interesting subject-I mean your amiable family, for they have more of my thoughts than you will be led to believe from this dull letter; and I assure you I never think so highly of myself, as when I reflect on the confidence with which they favor me. I cannot speak of your uncle as he deserves, and as I feel; he is a man of benevolence and sensibility-a man of worth and talent; and I honor him with all that respectful admiration a superior fellow-creature commands. Your cousin Frederic is a great favorite with me-his manners and suavity of deportment are his recommendations to every society, and there cannot be a better domestic character. The small number of your social circle leaves me but one more to speak of—and in dwelling upon her name, I would do injustice to her excellence, and my own feelings, for the expression of any ardent thought is always weaker than the reality. What have I written?-the loveliness about me has, I fear, led me into a rhapsody-do not speak of the last line or two; but give the enclosed note to Eleanor, who desired I would send her a description of the country, and convey at the same moment the sincerity of my attachment to all my friends at * Correspondence of a Lover. Note enclosed, addressed to Eleanor. Surrounded by the charms of solitary and inanimate nature, I pause from the contemplation of their attractions to converse with those who are always with me in imagination. You requested I would keep a journal of all I would see, in order to afford you an idea of those beautiful scenes you have heard so much of. I have transmitted to Louisa an account of some of them; and you may glean sufficient to discover that I am totally unfit to describe them at all. This is the land of romance, and I have often wished I were a poet, that I might here indulge a taste which this delightful retreat seems to inspire. Yet still in all this enthusiasm of admiration, my heart, Eleanor, my heart remains unchanged, and I can find nothing to compare with what "I've left behind me." No fascination can destroy the spell which memory breathes over my soul-let me roam where I will, the past crowds my enraptured sense, depriving the present enchantment of half its power-and were I to wander an exile for years, I could never gaze on an eye—a lip-a form-so capable of conveying the electric expression of mute and intense feeling, as those from which I have parted. I thank you sincerely for the promptitude with which you answered my letter. You tell me wonders-Eleanor was pleased with the short note I scribbled to her, and said it was " ill-natured to write so briefly." Oh! Louisa, how my heart throbbed at that passage.- -I have known your cousin I believe near a year and a half, yet till that moment, no action of her's ever affected me. You ask me in a halfserious half-jesting tone, what I mean by the breaks and pauses in my last?-I would answer by inquiring, what means the agitation of your pulse when you are speaking of something very dear to you?-what means the tremor that runs through your veins when, sitting near those you reverence, you feel yourself at a loss for language in the instant that it is most necessary to use it? I could enumerate a thousand situations in which the silent and quivering lip denotes the emotion of the mind, when it is impossible to avoid being |