received no sustenance but by moistening her mouth frequently with a feather dipped in a restorative mixture. When her strength was in a small degree encreased, the strength of the mixture was also encreased in the same small proportion: and thus, from time to time, little additions were made to what was given her, til she was so far recovered, as to open her eyes, and make a faint attempt to change her posture.

Arnaud, who was watching by the side of her couch, instantly rose from his seat, and was going to assist her. Fortunately Dr. Maceau was there also, and prevented him. "She must not be

moved," said he. "The feeble effort she has made convinces us our labours will not be in vain; but we must not agitate her."

Her recovery was now almost assured; it was however so slow, that Arnaud's hopes were less sanguine than when it was doubtful. Dr. Maceau continued his visits, and Antoinette her care; and at the expiration of four months she began to shew symptoms of recollection. Arnaud was then for bidden to approach her. She must not see you," said Dr. Maceau. "I will reveal to her what has occurred, as I find her able to bear the recital."

When time and strength had brought about the

full relation of her interment; of the return of Arnaud; of his visit to the vault wherein she had been deposited; and of her removal and recovery; the recollection of all the misery which had followed her marriage with Mons. de Briontin, made her almost wish that she had been left to perish undiscovered; "for," said she, "the dreary grave is not so dreadful as the house of Briontin."

A hope he scarcely understood glowed in the bosom of Arnaud de Valmont, and after indulging it a long time, he ventured to propose to Adeline to become his wife. She was long unwilling to comply; but at length she yielded to his wishes and they were united at the altar, where she had formerly been married to Mons. de Briontin, and in the church where she had been consigned to the grave.

Dr. Maceau, honest Audifan, and Antoinette had been so faithful to the secrecy required of them, that the events in the church of St. Martin, and at the sexton's house, had never been suspected and Arnaud de Valmont introduced Adeline as his wife to his family, while she was supposed to be mouldering in the tomb.

Mons. de la Surmartelle and Mons. de Briontin were so astonished at what they beheld, that they

were inclined to fancy that an illusion deceived their senses. When they were informed of all the circumstances, they instituted a suit at law against de Valmont.

Mons. de Briontin claimed Adeline as his wife; and produced the priest who had married them i the friends who had witnessed their marriage; and the book which contained the register.

Arnaud de Valmont produced the priest who had performed the funeral service when she had been consigned to the grave; the friends who had followed her to the church of St. Martin, and seen her deposited within the tomb; and the book wherein the register of death was written: and argued, that the grave had dissolved the union between Alphonse de Briontin and Adeline de la Surmartelle.

Such was the decision of the court. The obituary register had banished Adeline de Briontin from the face of the earth; and the tenant of the tomb was ceded to Arnaud de Valmont.

The confidence I have in the undoubted veracity of the gentleman from whom I heard the above-written anecdote, gives me assurance that I may vouch it as a fact. The circumstance is, nevertheless, so very extraordinary, and the decision is so very contrary to what my feelings and

ideas of propriety deem right, that absolutely I dare not comment on either. Every one will form an opinion for himself; and I am inclined to think that more will agree with me, than with the decision of the French court of law, by which, no doubt Arnaud de Valmont and Adeline thought themselves completely justified.

THE SHIPWRECK.

THERE is scarcely any calamity which operates so powerfully on the tenderest feelings of the human heart as shipwreck. It is one of those terrible events which more frequently occur where no aid can be given to the sufferers, than where they are within the reach of assistance. Yet, it sometimes happens so near the shore, that the appalled spectators behold the dreadful destruction: and while the desperate sympathy of the truly brave, the truly generous strives to save; the same wind which tears the sails, and rives the planks of the noble vessel on the boisterous main, drives back the boat which tender hardihood in vain attempts to launch amid the foaming waves.

Some friends of mine once witnessed at Holyhead a scene of such deep distress. A vessel bound for Ireland, had completed her lading, taken on board her crew and passengers, and was