a dream," and to convince myself I was not dreaming actually struck the wall with my forehead. I was no longer deceived, but reason would soon again have deserted its post. had not a door opened and a woman, an entire stranger, but with a most benevolent look stood before me. I was motionless with unutterable wonder, as she advanced towards me taking my hand and leading me back to the bed, " am I in the regions of the dead?" 1 at length demanded.

tress, from which I was roused by a well known tread.- |
The figure glided in and without speaking presented a
letter, which in the dimlight I could but see, and also in
silence, wheeled and in much astonishment I was again
alone. "This is a new freak of Eltham." thought I, as
ringing for a light, I rose and when the light came went
up stairs to my own room. With an anxiety I could not
repress or account, for the letter was opened, and with
an effort yet to me inscrutable, it was read and thrown on
the table. My very soul felt frozen. The whole horrors
of my situation lay before me, painted in few words by
iny murderer for to all purposes of earthly enjoyment
death spread his veil over me from that fatal night,-a
night on which no bed was pressed by the ruined Sophia.
But every one has their own manner of meeting calamity.
Happiness and the man who trampled on my heart were
gone together-that heart was bruised, but not crushed- in the state of

love was there replaced by hatred-undying hatred."-
And here she paused and all the demon shook her frame
and distorted her truly haggard features--but the storm
had a pause and she resumed.

"Over a fallen daughter there was no mother to weep, and wither broken hearted-no sister to share the blight of lost reputation-no brother to pierce or be pierced by the foul betrayer--but there was a father, grey with age, and feeble in health to receive or reject an erring child.To that father, I was determined to appeal on earth he was the only hope, and failed me not in the hour of shame and sorrow. To my native home I fled, leaving my city friends to their surmises. On my father's breast I leaned and to his heart was taken, forgiven and consoled, as far as human consolation would soften misery like mine. In the very room where I was born. I became the mother of ason, whom erst I had hoped to bestow on a doating husband and father.

"Utterly secluded, and seen only by my only parent, and a deaf and dumb servant girl. I nursed my babe, watering his innocent face with my tears. My father you know was a man of uncommon good sense, and I know he was also a man of kindest feeling, and why he sunk not to the grave under so much affliction from the hand of an only daughter, is altogether unaccountable, but he is still living, and with all the world but yourself believes the tale of my suicide in the Susquehanna. In open day my native farin is visible from this den. But I must haste to conclude my story of wretchedness.

The name of my seducer was never repeated to my Father--indeed the only stern command I ever received From him was not to name the monster-a command I had no inclination to disobey. Time passed and iny boy began to lisp in our native tongue, when as was his daily custom, my father came in and sitting down began to play with little James, observing" we have a new neighbour. Thomas Milford has sold his farm to a new comer named Eltham Heathfield," and diverted by the child's gambols, the effect on me was unobserved. In fact my heart was frozen to every thing beyond the room, but even ice must yield. The cruelty that had been practised upon me now came home more terribly than ever. No exertion of mind would prevent me from contrasting what I might, -what I ought to be as the mistress of the very farm on which you paid for a miserable dinner this day-yes! that sour miser-that suffering wretch, poor in possession of great wealth, is Eltham Heathfield. * * *

"Knowledge of his existing in our vicinity preyed upon me--1 became fretful, irritable, and disrespectful to my protector, my father, and only friend. The face of iny boy became even hateful--1 thought I could trace a likeness which a disordered mind rendered striking. My father noticed, and attributing my altered conduct to sick. ness, but it was not sickness of body; it was worse: it was sickness of mind. At some moments I was conscious of my true situation, but in solitude. the brain was preyed upon by the horrid phantoms of its own creation."

Here she paused and sat as if listening to some distant voice--but it was the effect of overpowering remembrance, and as I sat the picture of anxious attention, she started and resumed.

Poor sufferer," replied my protector, you are still amongst the children of mortality--you are on earth-but lie down and be composed." Iobeyed and she sat down by me, and in a most mild and tender tone I was comforted.

"My reason was restored-but many days elapsed before I learned that I had been five years in a mad house, four hundred miles from my

home. The first time I beheld myself in a mirror. I started back with horror. I could not have believed that death itself could have made such a change. My hair was now scanty and grey-all the most fearful ravages of age and distress were united. I requested a bible and one was given me. 1 read, reflected, and found that my intellects were restored, and then requested the presence of the attending physician. He came, and in him I met a gentleman, and man of real science on the subject he was appointed to superintend. In a few conversations he became convinced of my sanity. With the cunning of madness I had concealed my name, and though I made the physician a confident so far as to account for my recent situation, my name, place of birth or any circumstance which could lead to any knowledge of myself or connexions, I concealed.

"Dead I am regarded, no doubt, by all who ever knew me." I inwardly reflected, "and dead I am determined to remain--no one can recognise Sophia Markland under this disguise. Tenderly--in reality, too tenderly nurtured, I was very unprepared to labor for a living, but I was deterinined to labor. Silent, submissive, and regarded as a repentant Magdalen. I found many compassionate hearts. How or by what possible means I had wandered over the space between the insane hospital and my native home, I never can know, as I never can remember; but over the same space I returned as a common female laborer, and still a young woman in years but blasted by misfortune. I re-crossed the Susquehanna, and again beheld my native mountains, perfectly mistress of my mother's language, the German; I assumed the name by which, when I am not known as mother Rarity, I have since passed. Performing the duty of a common servant, Lydia Ashbaugh has remained unsuspected in her own father's house--has attended in sickness and health, her own son, and wept over him bitter tears which fell unseen by mortal eye. In several instances my own tragic story has been related to me or in my hearing, with all its additions of falsity. Some of my clothing was found, according to the tale, on an island near Harrisburg, bat my body even report never pretended to have found. Not a living soul out of this room, I sincerely believe, has the most distant suspicion that Lydia Ashbaugh is the ruin of Sophia Markland, and to my grave should the secret have descended, had not recent circumstances opened a scene which compels me to unmask to save my son from the fangs. But let me be cool,"cool as far as passion could excite heat, she was not--but as before, I let the fire burn. and after another pause she again continued.

"Determined that my child should not, as far as I could prevent it, share his mother's shame and wretchedness, I left frequenting my father's house as James approached to manhood. This ground on which I reside was the pro perty of my mother, and is of course now mine; have actually leased from my own father. First a ridiculous story was raised by ignorance that I was a witch, or worse. I had long ceased to laugh, but I smiled at the notion of supernatural association, and finding it threw an atmosphere of fear around me, I let it pass. The wise laugh and the fools dread, and so let them. The hour is hasting on when my real power will be shown in thunder."

"Amid all my trials and changes, from the moment I received the fatal letter from the hand of Eltham Heathfield, there is one passion which has never abated in my bosom. A voice has always seemed to whisper, "the

"You are now to hear what will require all your confidence to believe possible. As the sun shone through a grated window I awoke, and starting up called to my child which I thought in the bed-no child was there. I then called to my father--the walls answered by echo. I stared around me, every thing was changed. Springing day will come when you can take vengeance on that to my feet, I stood petrified and exclaimed, "this must be man." This voice I have heard in whispers in all hours

of the day and night, in every s ason of the year; on the return of long suspended reason, it came again and animated me in toil. In search of this. good twenty-five years have I toiled, ard am now very soon to reap the fruits, and astonishing as it may sound in your ears, in part by your aid interrupt me not-you will soon hear and gladly will your aid be granted. But let me return back on

ume.

"Maria Heathfield, once the sister of an unworthy brother, was much the younger of the two. They were the only children of parents long departed, and to rid himself probably of superintending her education. Maria was sent te an aunt in Philadelphia, where at an age too little advanced to admit much reflection, she fell into company with an emigrant French gentleman, which eventuated inan attachment and marriage. In many respects Maria was fortunate in her connexions. M. Stephen Montault, was a gentleman in the proper meaning of the term. He was tender and affectionate to his wife, and transported with delight when their only child. a daughter, called Caroline, bloomed in sportiveness. Montault was for this country, rich, but remarkably confiding. This quality was cultivated to profit by Heathfield the brother, who in a very few years had contrived to borrow most of his bro ther-in-law's capital. But matters went smooth on the Farface until the declining heath and final death of Mara removed the tie between them.

Rendered wretched by the loss of his adored wife and becoming dissatisfied with the conduct of her brother, Montauit demanded the return of his money, announcing has intention to remove to New York. Difficulties in creased, and from a real friendship on the part of the Frenchman, open enmity succeeded, and legal redress Greatened. Things were in this train, when in the dead of nicht the house of Montault was involved in flames.The fire I believe was accidental, but his character exposed Heathfield to suspicion. The natural impulse of Montanit in the alarm was to save his child, which he effected with great difficulty, and at the expense of his own life, scorched by the flames, a raging fever was the consequence, and from the moment of seeing his child in nfety. Stephen Montauld never was in a situation to give any direction as to his affairs, and on the sixth day after his last misfortune, was laid beside the remains of his wife

Now all was changed with this family; Maria was an orphan, at the mercy of her unnatural uncle. He administered on the property, sold in due time the personal ef fects, and no doubt to blind the world, sent Caroline to Philadelphia, where, whatever was his motive, she received her education. A few things were saved from the fire. and amongst the rest, that desk, which after falling into other hands was sold to me for a trifle-but little indeed did I suspect its value. In that corner it stood many years, while other changes were in the womb of time. I sever committed a theft but one, if that was really a theft -I stole my own picture and placed it over the desk, and there have they dust-covered remained, shut from every eye but mine

ference of others. After the most diligent search, not a trace of o ligation could be found to substantiate the rights of Caroline to her father's property. Involved in lawsuits and persecuted by a haughty relation, this father and mother is now reduced to indigence, and despair; but how will their condition be changed to-morrow!"

Now beamed something of the once beautiful Sophia Markland. She rose to her feet-her eyes shot with a lustre, I could not behold without astonishment; but she checked her transports and again sat down, seizing at the ame time the packet which during her harrowing narrative lay on the table. "You see that broken desk," said she, pointing to the ruined piece. "It shall be mended with clasps of silver."

If I was rivetted by any part of the scene I was still more so at what was now placed before me. With great composure Sophia unfolded the papers, and laid them on the table writing downwards--when done, she again addressed me in words not to be forgotten.

"You remember the thunder storm of last week," "well" I replied "and well do I remember it," she subjoined, " never subject to dread of lightning and thunder, on the contrary, from a child I was rather delighted with the twful display, and on the night I have mentioned, 1 was sitting in that outer room viewing the flashes and hearing the echoes from mountain to mountain, when I was stunned by an explosion which seemed to burst from the earth and rend her bowels. My desolate dwelling was struck-you see that split beam. From that the shock fell upon the desk, and threw the fragments over the room. A remark I had once heard in Philadelphia now occurred to my mind. "It was that the same place or same object is never, or very rarely, if ever, affected twice by the electricity of the same storm, and that any object or place once touched by an electric shock, is rarely ever again subject to like accident. I therefore now regarded my cabin in safety, and as the storm passed away sought my lone couch, and with the elements was soon at rest.

"The next morning as day strengthened, I saw the effect of the stroke of the bolt. The desk was literally shivered, but those and some other papers arrested my attention, and on examination I found that the back part had contained a secret till or kind of drawer, which burst by the explosion, its contents lay scattered over the floor. After examining some loose fragments of no moment, I picked up the one containing these papers; and now let us glance upon their faces, and learn what they reveal, and here do you know that writing?" saying this she handed me the paper, and what was my astonishment to see a document written in a hand of great neatness and peculiarity, it was that of a teacher, under whose care I had myself learned to write--but of infinitely greater importance was its tenor. It was a duly executed mortgage, for the money lent by Stephen Montault to his brother-in-law, and the other documents in the same packet were bonds and other obligations which had been thus so remarkably preserved.

In mingled joy and astonishment, I read these precious records, handing them over to the exulting mother, who again folding them up very carefully while observing, "on to-morrow a meeting is to take place at Saul Standley's-who is not only justice of the peace, but a peace maker. Eltham Heathfield is to meet his injured son.He shall have one chance more to recede and do justice. Let him refuse and all shall be revealed--If, but I need not hope, his day is come, and my son and his wife and child shall be restored to their rights. You can attest to this hand writing come what will. Be at Standley's and before mid-day to-morrow."

While all these events were occurring. my son rose to manhood The idol of my poor old father, James, received a tolerable education. In a mother's eye he was not only a fine, but an elegant young man, and little did he suppose that the heart of a fond mother beat in the bosom of the menial that took her highest pleasure in washing and arranging his clothing. Mystery indeed hung over his birth, though under the name of James Woolford, start not-Captain James Woolford is my son. and Caroline was once Caroline Montault; but be calm and listen. The last war called to the field many others, and amongst them my noble boy. Oh! how my bosom best when honored with wounds and high in character, he returned into his native country. The train of crcumstances which brought James and Caroline together, you will learn at a future day; sutfice it to say that to my delight they became man and wife, but their uncle esther felt or pretended to feel great indignation, and whatever was the motive, his enmity was durable and serious. The long minority of Caroline left her uncle undisturbed, and when her husband made demands on her property, thev were met by the taunt that they had nothing to recerve, but on the contrary a large claim against her father was urged. My son was irritated at what he regarded injustice, and unconscious of their real relationshup, personal violence was only prevented by the inter-xiety the path over the field where I knew the witch

The reader need not be told that I was at Standley's at the time appointed, and found by the manner of the old squire that I was expected. I was first on the ground but had not long to wait. Captain James Woolford was next. His noble countenance was care worn, and I could or thought I could see despair and anxiety contending, and dreaded the consequence on his mind of the revelation I knew was to be made. My lips were, however, sealed. The last words of Sophia Markland, to me on parting, were "let Heathfield do justice, and then what has passed must forever remain unknown to the world." The distressed Woolford was too much occupied with his forebodings of evil to speak much, and 1 for a different reason was also silent, but watched with increasing an

Deep in the earth the golden seed is laid,
And spring shall yield young bud and waving blade,
In Time's fast-closing furrow what shall bloom?
Burst the dull earth, and spring from thy forgotten
tomb?

"O, papa!" said a little girl the other day, "why won't you buy me one of those Highland shawls?" "I mean to buy one for a horse blanket," said he. "Well, I don't care," said the little girl, "the horse may wear

MARK BANCROFT. it nights, but I'll have it to wear day times."

From the Amulet for 1836.
THE DROWNED FISHERMAN.

BY MRS. S. C. HALL.

In the immediate neighbourhood of Duncannon Fort, along that portion of the coast which contracts into the Waterford river, there are a number of scattered cottages standing either singly or in small clusters along a wild and picturesque sea-shore-more wild, perhaps, than beautiful, although the infinite number of creeks, and bays, and overhanging rocks, vary the prospect at every hundred yards; and I know nothing more delightful than to row during a long summer evening, from the time when the sun abates his fierceness until the moon has fairly risen upon the waters, nothing more delightful than to row-now in, now out, now under the hanging rocks, now close upon the silver-sanded bays, where thousands of many coloured shells form the most beautiful Mosaic be neath the transparent waters. So deep is the tranquillity of land and sea during those happy hours, that travellers would find it difficult to believe they were really floating beneath the shadow of the Irish coast; that the lovely village of Templemore smiling on the brink of the Waterford river, was inhabited by the savage cut-throats," which it is the delight of a pe. cuhar party to denominate the suffering peasantry of a land who for centuries have "laughed and laboured" upon worse food and worse treatment, than we in rich and happy England, bestow upon our dogs-oh, it makes my heart ache, and my blood boil, when I think of what I have seen, and contrast it with what I hear; when I remember that whether priest-ridden or law. ridden, the heads of either party have been fanatics or worse-but what have I to do with this? I love the green turf of my native country, I laugh at its follies, I weep over its sorrows and grieve for its crimes; ah! a woman's smiles and a woman's tears are alike uselese-but what have you, gentle reader to do with that? 1 have never entered upon, and do not wish to enter upon, any subject that trenches on the political znevances of Ireland; I can only pray-which I do with all my heart and soul! -that times may mend, and speedily. I have endeavoured to win the suffrages of my dear English friends for the virtues and domeste privations of my humble countrywomen; and I bave endeavoured to show to Irish people how their besetting sins of carelessness and inconsiderateness might be corrected-corrected without much trouble, and with great advantage to themselves; as far as Ireland is concerned I have no ambition beyond what I have stated, and having so said, I will tell my story: "And what 'ud ail the boat but to do? Sure she's done, ay, and done a dale for us, this ten years; and as to the hole, Jemmy 'ill plug his hat into it, or stick in a piece of sail cloth, and what 'ud ail her then, but sail God bless her!-like a swan or a curlew, as she always does!"

"Derinot-Dermot, darling! listen to me for onc't!" "Faith," replied Dermot to his better half, Kate Browne, while his keen blue eye twinkled with that mixture of wit and humour so truly Irish, "Faith, my dear, I'll accommodate you in any way I can, for I'll en to you one't for three speakings come, out with it, and don't stand twisting your face that was one't so party as to win the heart and hand of the handsomest man in the parish, and that is myself, Dermot Browne at your service, Mistress Kate Browne, madam! Don't keep lengthening your face to the length of a herring-net, but out with it!-out with it!-at one't!"

"Dermot, I've got the box of tools quite convenjent; I brought it with me to the shore, and the last time I was in Waterford, I bought all sortings of nails, large and small; and there's plenty of boord in the

shed-and Dermot, mend the hole, and God blees you!-sure its the sore heart I'd have when you'd be on the wather, to think that any harm would hap. pen you-it won't take you any thing like an hour

"An hour! God bless the woman, why a body would think you had never been a fisherman's wife! An hour would turn the tide-and the luck!-an hour! Why, the herrings out yonder would miss my company if I waited; and all for what? To go to the trouble of nailing a bit o' boord on a mite of a hole, when it will be just as easy to stop it with a hat!" "But not as safe, Dermot?"

"Be asy with your safety! You're always touching on that;-ay, will it, and as safe too; havn't I done it before?--Why turn up every one of the boats along the shore, and I'll bet you the cod I mean to catch against a branyan that there isn't as sound a boat as my own on the sands; doesn't Harrison's go without a rudder?-doesn't Michan's go without a mastbarring a gag of a gate-post that he pulled out of Lavery's field? I'm sure Michael Murphy's craft is bang full of drowshy holes like a riddle: and a good noggin he won on that, for he betted Lanty Moore that at the present time the keel of his boat had more holes in it than Lanty's English sieve which he had win. nowing corn; and sure enough he won; for the holes in the sieve were all stopped up with the dirt! Lend a hand, old girl, and help me and the boy to shove her off!" He continued appealing to his wife, "What! -you won't? Why thin, Kate agra, what ails ye?I've been your true and faithful husband next Candlemass will be seventeen years, and you never refused me a hand's turn before!" Still Kate Browne moved not; and her husband, using, with his eldest son, considerable exertion to push off the boat, became annoy. ed at her obstinacy.

Kate saw, but, contrary to her usual habit, heeded not. She stood, with folded arms and tearful eyes, surveying the proceedings, without possessing the power of putting a stop to preparations, of the termination of which she had a fearful presentiment.

"Why, thin, look at your mother, Benje!" exclaimed Browne to his son, "sure she's enough to set a man mad, and her's the help that's as good as fiveshe has such a knowledge of setting every thing straight. Kate" he exclaimed to his wife :

"Let her alone, father dear," interrupted the boy, "let her alone, and don't vex her more, don't ye see there's a tear in her eye?"

"And how can I help that?" expostulated the father, looking kindly towards his wife at the same time; "them women are ever so hard to manage, and manage as ye will, ye can't find 'em out; there's the sun shining above her head, the waters dancing and capering, like jewels at her feet, the herrings crying "Come, and catch me," and Benje, between you and I, as handsome a husband, and as fine, ay, and for the matter of that, as good a boy for a son as woman's heart could wish, and yet the tears are in her eyes, and the corners of her mouth drawn as far down as if she did nothing but sup sorrow all her life." Benjamin, the fisher's only child, made no reply; and, after a moment's pause, his father looked at him and said, "Why boy, you look as much cast down as your mother-stay on shore and good luck to you!"

"No, father, that I won't! I'll not put more to the throuble she's in, by letting you go by yourself; I wish from my heart the boat was mended, if it would make her easy."

"Don't bother about the boat, boy," replied Browne, "I never meddle or make with her house, or land business; hasn't she got a back door for the cabin?a sty for the poor pig !---a chaney dish for the pratees, and a white table-cloth for saints-day and bonfire nights ?---can't she stay at home and mind them, and let me and the cobble alone?" Benjamin loved the | Browne's cottage almost better than her own; " I will