murdered in the beech-tree field: all hurried to the spot, where they found the younger of the two stretched on the ground a pistol, which had been discharged, in his hand. The cause of his death was soon ascertained he had been shot directly through the heart: at a little distance they found another pistol, discharged also, and the track of steps through the long grass to the high road, where all trace was lost. In the trunk of a beech, opposite to the deceased, a bullet was found, evidently the one from his pistol. No doubt remained that a duel had been fought; and letters were found on the body, which shewed that the young men were the only sons of two distinguished families in the adjacent county. The one who was to have been married had fallen; of the survivor no tidings were ever heard, and the cause of their quarrel remained, like his fate, in impenetrable obscurity.

Enough of murder, and mystery, which always seems to double the crime it hides, was in this brief and tragic story to lay upon the beautiful but fatal field the memory of blood. The country people always avoided the place; and some chance having deposited the seeds of a crimson polyanthus, which had taken to the

soil and flourished, universal was the belief that the blood had coloured the primroses; and the rich growth of the flowers served to add to the legendary horrors of one of the most lovely spots in the world.

The history attached to it could not but recur to Emily as she passed, and her heart sank within her not with fear, but at the thought, how much of misery there was in the world; and why should she be spared amid such general allotment? Often had she imaged the wretchedness which so suddenly overwhelmed two families-the despair of that young bride; but never came they so vividly before her as now. Fear and sorrow are the sources of sympathy; the misfortunes of others come home to those

who are anticipating their own. She quickened her steps to gain the next field—a green sunny slope leading directly to the vicarage, which was also covered with sunshine: a blessing rested upon it; it was close by the church-one of Norman architecture-whose square tower was entirely hidden by the luxuriant growth of ivy. The church was visible, but not the churchyard, so that the eye rested on the sign of faith and hope, without the melancholy shew of human suffering and death

which surrounded it. The scene looked so cheerful the small white house overgrown

with jessamine, more rich, however, in green than in bloom, the leaves overshadowing the flowers, the more delicate for their rarity; the garden, whose gay-coloured beds were now distinct; the quiet of the Sunday morning, only broken by the musical murmuring of the trees, all was cheerfulness; and with one of those sudden changes outward impulses so mysteriously produce, Emily stepped lightly into the little garden. The old man was seated by the window, which opened to the ground, reading, and she was at his side before he raised his eyes.

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My dear Emily, this is kind."

Say selfish, rather," almost sobbed his visitor, for the tone of his voice recalled her uncle, and with that came the full tide of recollection and remorse. Mr. Morton also remembered what had been forgotten in the first pleasure of seeing his young favourite—all he had purposed of comfort. He took her hand, and kindly led her into the breakfast-room; he opened the Bible, and pointed to one passage"The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord!" Emily read

the passage like a death-warrant, and burst into passionate reproaches for having left her uncle. Mr. Morton had been overruled, not convinced, by the tenderness which had kept her in ignorance, to be expiated by such bitter after-suffering. He knew Emily, and he felt it would have been more real kindness to have recalled her- it mattered not from what: any thing of pleasure sacrificed would have been a consolation. He did not attempt to give her false hopes-he said little of the ignorance which had kept her away-but he dwelt upon what she had still to do -the affectionate care which her uncle was yet able to enjoy and appreciate. "You must not suffer Mr. Arundel to be much by himself: that sunny terrace was just made for an invalid, and your arm will often tempt him to a walk. My sweet Emily, restraint on your own feelings is the best proof of love to your uncle."

Few more words passed, and Emily turned homewards. Hope is the prophet of youth— young eyes will always look forwards. Mr. Morton had spoken of exercise and attentionthey might work miracles: the bright, beautiful summer-surely its influence must be genial! She looked with so much reliance on the thou

sand indications of existence around her-the murmur of the distant village-all its varying. sounds, its voices, its steps all blent into that one low musical echo which is, nevertheless, such certain sign of human neighbourhood. Every bough had its bird-every blossom its bee-the long grass was filled with myriads of insects. Amid so much of life, how difficult to believe in death! One loss teaches us to expect another, but Emily was unfamiliar. with the realities of death: there was no vacant place in the small circle of her affections-she had never yet lost a friend.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Arundel were in the breakfast-room, and her aunt's shrill, dry voice was very audible. " "Well, there is no advising some people to their good: Mrs. Clarke told me, she knew three persons cured of exactly your complaint, by taking a raw egg before breakfast."

"The remedy, my dear, was worse than the disease," said Mr. Arundel, turning away with an inward loathing from the yellow liquid, which, ever since Mrs. Clarke's call, had been duly presented every morning.

"Men are so obstinate; but I shall beat it up in your tea-I can't have the egg wasted: