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viour. It is a pity, methinks, we did not let her have Torrello, who, with all his faults, was a youth of gentle birth, and not likely to disgrace us by his manners; but it would bring me to my grave, to have the girl debase herself with any of these common and low-bred people."

Her husband agreeing in these sentiments, they concerted how to have Torrello recalled, which the lady undertook to manage, so as to make the most of their parental indulgence to Fiorenza. Accordingly, after a proper lecture on her indiscretions, she dictated a dutiful letter to her lover, who came very joyfully in his own character as a gentleman, and a time was appointed for the wedding. When the day arrived, and the company were all assembled, the mother, who was very lynx-sighted, espied the three trinkets, namely, a ring, a clasp, and a buckle, on the person of Torello, that had belonged to her daughter; however, before she could put any questions, he took Fiorenza by the hand, and spoke as follows:

"I know what a history you are going to tell me of the indiscretions of Fiorenza, and that the several jewels you regard so suspiciously, were bestowed by her on a gardener, a falconer, and a doctor's man. Those three knaves being all as careless and improvident as myself, the gifts are come, as you perceive, into my own possession: notwithstanding, lest any should impeach, therefore, the constancy of this excellent lady, let them know that I will maintain her honour in behalf of myself, as well as of those other three, in token of which I have put on their several jewels."

The parents being enlightened by this discourse, and explaining it to their friends, the young people were married to the general satisfaction; and Fiorenza confessed herself thrice happy with the gardener, the falconer, and the doctor's man!

AWAY TO LOCH LONG.

FROM THE LITERARY GAZETTE.

Away, and away, o'er the bright sunny sea,

To yon shore that looks smiling on you, sweet, and me;
The waves are asleep, dear, the winds heave no sigh,
But at rest on the breast of the blue waters lie.

O Jeanie! than friendship some ties are more strong,
Then wilt thou, my own one, away to Loch Long?

Though the sun kisses fondly the hills of Loch Gare,
And the palace and hall on its banks glitter fair;
Yet our white-winged wee bark past its headland shall glide,
And my arm and my oar bear thee on through the Clyde;
For though silver its shores, trod by pleasure's gay throng,
There's a lovelier strand far away at Loch Long!

O sweet is the shealing that waits for my Jeanie,
As blissful it smiling looks o'er Ardentinny,
And rests on the green hill, in safety and pride,

As on Donald's fond breast shall the brow of his bride.
Give that sigh to our sail, love, thy voice to the song
Whose notes shall re-echo-Hail, lovely Loch Long!

MARY GRACE AT HER TOILET.

FROM THE O'HARA TAles.

MARY GRACE had, before seven o'clock, retired to her apartment to make some little preparation for receiving her lover, as also to discharge some religious observances of the day. She had proceeded half way in her toilet; the fair long hair was first dishevelled and then newly bound up, and a simple flower braided through it; and Mary, her upper robe laid aside, consulted her glass, in, it must be admitted, much modest satisfaction at her progress; when, recollecting her unperformed task of gentle penance and Sunday reading, a reproving blush mounted on the young cheek that had, before, its share of healthy bloom; and she hastily drew a chair to the fire, opened her prayerbook, and strove, with all virtuous seriousness, to detach No. 18.

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her mind and heart from personal vanities, from her lover, and every thing earthly, and fix them on sublimer objects. She chided herself for having indulged the inclination to make her toilet previous to the discharge of her spiritual obligations, and she would not proceed in dressing, would not even look towards the glass, until she had said and read her penance, and, kneeling at the chair, attentively perused a religious tract.

While just commencing her devotions, the clock audibly struck seven. This was an untoward intrusion. Howard was always punctual to his appointments; he would surely come to the house in an instant, if indeed he had not already arrived; and he would have to wait for Mary, and out of good nature, Mary did not wish to keep him waiting. Her eyes wandered a moment as she listened for his knock; she caught herself inattentive; again brought her heart to task, and again resumed her devotions.

In about half an hour she had finished, with few further temptations or distractions; but as Mary rose, her feelings changed, first into impatience, and then into anxiety, at the absence of Howard. He could not have knocked without her hearing it; and even if he had, Nora, her attendant, must have come, according to arrangement, to inform her mistress of his arrival. Her heart sunk, as, just standing up, a thought of danger or treachery to Howard crossed her mind, and Mary unconsciously sat down on the chair, her toilet again forgotten, to pursue her sad reverie. And, in this situation, we substitute a slight graphic sketch of Mary, and of her chamber, for a detailed description of her character.

Having doffed her very outside dress, while proceeding with her toilet, she sat in tight-laced stays and a white petticoat, leaning back in the chair, her ankles crossed, her left arm and hand hanging by her side, and in this hand her prayer-book still open. While sinking in the chair, Mary put her rosary on the toilet-table, but, at the same time, took up a miniature of Howard, which she

now held in her right hand; her face was, however, unconsciously turned away from the likeness, as with big tears in her soft blue eyes, she sighed forth a gentle storm of intercessions for his safety. Her figure, rather round than slight, was fully, indeed luxuriously, developed by her undress; the short petticoat and slippers permitting a more than usual exhibition of her plump, though not heavy ankle; while her polished shoulders, and dimpled neck and back, abandoned themselves to the guardian sylphs who alone enjoy (married men excepted) the chances of a lady's happy chamber.

Upon the toilet, and immediately beside the red morocco case, out of which she had taken the miniature, stood a carved ivory crucifix. A little farther on was a tall glass vase, half filled with water, and holding a monthly rose, just blown and newly plucked. Emulative groups of flowers, the creatures of Mary's pencil, hung on the walls over the table; and, in the midst, a Madonna and child, in crayons, also executed by herself. A small book-shelf appeared to the right-hand side, and under her glass lay (of course, even in Ireland) an album, of which the covers were tastefully ornamented.

Immediately behind Mary was her bed, draped with virgin white. As she sat, the fire blazed strongly upon her, heightening the colour of her cheek, and the golden cloud of curls around her forehead, and enriching the already rich carnation tint of her neck and shoulders. Through her figure, her attitude, and her expression, as well as through the detail of all the accompaniments we have described, there ran a blended character of alternate elegance and purity, and subdued, though subduing voluptuousness. In such a situation, and in the eloquent presence of such indications of pursuit and sentiment, vice might at first contemplate her with unholy throbs, but would at length retire on tip-toe, awed and relenting, if not abashed and converted.

SONG,

FROM THE GERMAN OF MATTHISSON.

Translated by Macray.

For ever thine! though sea and land divide thee,
For ever thine!

Through burning wastes and winds-whate'er betide me-
For ever thine!

'Mid dazzling tapers in the marble palace,
For ever thine!

Beneath the evening moon in pastoral valleys,
For ever thine!

And when the feeble lamp of life expiring
Becomes divine-

My breaking heart will echo, still untiring—
For ever thine!

THE FAIR MAID OF LUDGATE.

THE reign of King Charles the Second of England was marked by two great public calamities: the first of them, that memorable plague which devastated London; and then followed that deplorable fire which destroyed such a large portion of the same devoted metropolis.

It happened shortly before the pestilence, that the King had a design to serve in the city; wherefore he rode that way on horseback, attended only by the Lord Rochester, and one or two gentlemen of the court. As they were riding gently, in this manner, up the Hill of Ludgate, towards St. Paul's, the Earl observed that the King stopped short, and fixed his eyes on a certain casement on the right hand side of the way. The gentlemen, turning their heads in the same direction, immediately beheld a young and beautiful woman, in a very rich and fanciful dress, and worthy indeed of the admiration of the monarch; who, with sheer delight, stood as if rooted to the spot.

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