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imagination loaded, like the wings of a bee, with the honey of such belief. He had also told her that it was death to be absent from her; and he had induced her to answer letters which he privately sent her, without communicating their contents to her parents. It is not my intention to charge Mr. Barton with any intention of seducing Charlotte; he was too cautious and cold for that. What his unprincipled and unmeaning views were, I pretend not to surmise; but this I know, that after dangling three years after the after the poor girl, he seemed to forget her; and she had the misfortune to ascertain by her inquiries that he was courting another.

To describe her anguish is impossible. For a long time she dwelt, with intensity of thought, upon that single point, the falsehood of the world; as though the villany of one had arraigned and convicted the whole. This is the delusion we fall into in grief; we magnify exceptions into rules, and charge God and man with injustice for individual deviation. Charlotte's appearance soon indicated that something was wrong; but she would not acknowledge that the pressure was mental. Her stomach took a diseased tone from her brain, and

spread a yellow hue over her lovely face. A white streak occasionally encompassed her mouth, as though the compression of her lips were painful; and an alarming paleness, on the centre of the cheek, too truly betokened suffering at the heart's inmost core. Poor girl! she would for hours gaze wistfully at the fire-then she would start-and sigh-and her head would feel as heavy as a stone. Her old father and mother, who were sensible and tender-hearted people, hung over their child with sorrowful looks, yet feared to utter their apprehensions. Alas! poor Charlotte! she was blooded, and dosed, and exercised. She lost her memory-sat chaunting mournful songs-seemed passively insensible to all that was done-gazed constantly at the fire-drew tears from the eyes of her friends by long-drawn sighs, and starts of apprehension―told them she knew she was going mad—and in short, the most intense anxiety was felt respecting her.What can be more affecting than the sight of an Ophelia in real life? To see the spirit of a drooping resigned maniac, in the form of an angel, spreading terror over the looks which were a little before all life, love, and light-O God! O God! it is

terrible.-Keep me from ever beholding it again, my Father!

For a considerable time this state of her feelings continued. The slightest noise alarmed her, and filled the seat of thought with gloom and fear. Her mother at last discovered that she had received letters from William, and had written to him; and it was also found that the false-hearted rascal-for I must descend to call him so-was on the point of being married to a five hundred pounder in Capelstreet. These circumstances convinced Charlotte's parents that her disease was of the mind; and in order to amuse her she was sent on a visit to Newry, where her mother, who accompanied her, went to hear the celebrated Dr. Malcom preach.

Charlotte, who was of a religious turn, was present on the occasion, though seemingly inattentive to passing events; but the very tone of the doctor's fine voice aroused and excited her, like music. As he proceeded she forgot herself; and, towards the latter part of his sermon, when the doctor addressed his young friends on their duties to God, to man, and to themselves, Charlotte became so affected that she bowed her head, and burst into a flood of

tears. This appears to have relieved her intellect; as, upon returning home, she requested her mother to read a certain chapter of Job, to which Doctor Malcom had referred; and from that day her convalescence commenced. In a few weeks Charlotte was perfectly restored to hope, joy, and friendship. She heard the marriage of Mr. William Barton announced; and such was the strength of her mind, that she congratulated herself on escaping from a man who could treat a fond heart as he had treated hers.

And Charlotte is now a happy wife; blessed with a husband in whose honour and principle she may repose; and with every prospect of felicity here and hereafter. Let us never despond--but be ready to say, after every storm-" All's well that ends well."

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83

N. IV.

THE NEWS-ROOM.

It was but with that dawning morn
That Roderick Dhu had proudly sworn
To drown his love in war's wild roar,
Nor think of Ellen Douglas more;
But he who stems a stream with sand,
And fetters flame with flaxen band,
Has yet a harder task to prove

By firm resolve to conquer love!

SCOTT.

I AGREE with the poet in the praise he has bestowed on the welcome of an inn. Appear at one in the garb of a gentleman, and with the purse of a prodigal; obsequious ceremony bows to you down to the ground, as my lord of the King's Arms, anticipating attention, removes your wants in the form of humble servility, and you see smiling vitation in the bright face of my lord's lady. where, in this cold world, can you be more

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