Графични страници
PDF файл
ePub

20

His

streams over her trembling hands. Useless and too tardy care! Adonis is no more! brilliant eyes are extinguished, his forehead pale, his vermeil lips gradually changing their colour, resemble a faded violet. In vain does the wretched Venus with difficulty raise that motionless body, press it in her arms, support his heart against hers, touch with her glowing mouth those dying lips, and seek to reanimate him with her divine warmth: her dear Adonis no longer, feels, and it is a mass of ice which rests against her bosom. At once a mortal coldness scizes the Goddess; she shudders, recoils, and falls back invoking death.

Detesting an immortality which she could not partake with her lover, the unhappy Cypris sought to reanimate at least some part of him. She collected the blood which yet flowed from his wound, and from its faint warmth she raised the flower avemarie. Sweet and tender flower! which shines in the morn ing and at night loses its lustre, emblem of life, you present to us in one day the fugitive image of youth and joy!

After this transformation Venus erected a temple on this spot to her dear Adonis. There

she every year renewed his funeral ceremonies. In after times the inhabitants of Syria and of Greece adopted these annual feasts; the first day every one ́appeared covered with mournful garments, tearing their hair, and beating their breasts while they wept the death of Adonis; the next day they celebrated with joy his resurrection and apotheosis.

Having now rendered the last duties to her lover, Cypris thought of her own wounds. While flying to the succour of Adonis she had neither felt the puncture of the rocks, nor the thorns of the thickets; the sharp rosebushes were tinged with her blood, several drops sprinkled the roses themselves; and that flower which had till then been of snowy whiteness, preserved ever after the colour of the blood of the Goddess.

Thus I, my Emilia, who never obtain any other favour than that of being permitted now and then to present you with one of those flowers, in seeing it bloom upou your heart I gaze, and think I see the blood of Venus returning to its source.

(To be continued.)

OAKWOOD HOUSE.-AN ORIGINAL NOVEL.

(Continued from Vol. IV. Page 298.)

LETTER XX.

TO MISS FREEMAN, OAKWOOD.

Milthrop, July 3, 1807.

WE quitted Keswick for Ambleside, from which it is distant sixteen miles, early in the morning. The boasted view from Castrigg, the hill above Keswick, I thought inferior to that from Castlet. But it is the first which strikes strangers, who generally approach from that side; and I believe they are right. From Ambleside we should have taken Keswick first, and have returned by Ullswater. Our road now lay through a narrow dale, with Skiddaw behind; and when we lost it, we opened on Helveylin, which appears to me the most stupendous mountain of the country. The dale became beautiful. Rocks, woods, and steep hills rose out of it, and varied with every turn of the road. Behind

one of these Leathes water started up, about three miles in length, but almost divided in two.

At the Cherry Tree, at Wythburn, we stopped to breakfast, and desired to have coffee immediately. After waiting half an hour, I went into the kitchen, and found a slice of bread toasting itself by the fire. It entered the parlour soon after, exhibiting a stripe of black in the middle, and one of white on each side, the breadth of the bars. Its texture was so solid as to be proof against the butter, which was reduced to an oil, and covered the plate. This was accompanied by three pints of water made muddy, under the denomina. tion of coffee, which James, who was behind the scenes, told us afterwards, was made by throwing a very small quantity of coffee into a large tea-kettle. We thought we had mis.

Bolder

taken our inn, and expressed our doubts to its || accompaniments surpass all I ever saw.
mistress; but she assured us, her's was the
house frequented by the quality; and we were
convinced of it, when we found she charged
the same for our breakfast that we should have
paid at the first inns in Eugland.

rocks, indeed, I have seen; trees so naturally
and beautifully disposed, never.

We had now an ascent of a mile and a half to Dunmail Raise; the top of a pass in the mountains, where Dunmail, the last King of Cumberland, who was slain in the tenth century, lies buried under a grass-grown heap of stones. The wall which divides the counties of Cumberland and Westmoreland runs over the centre. The descent is steeper on the Westmoreland side, and at the bottom lies the beautiful little lake of Grassmere. Rydal water succeeds it, yet smaller; but it has some charming little islands, decorated with wood of nature's own planting. I could have wished its owner had taken the pains to remove the weeds, which shoot above the surface of the water.

Our road from Keswick to Ambleside, after having ascended Castrigg, has been a continued defile, between two ranges of mountains, divided across by Dunmail Raise. The enterprising hand of man seems to have formed three roads over different passes in the chain of mountains which rise in Cumberland and Westmorelond. The western is this, which is not very difficult of access. The middle is Kirkstone, which, I believe, till of late, was considered as impassible. The eastern is the great road over Shap Fells, which I have not seen. The lakes which occupy the foot of these passes seem proportioned to the height of these passes themselves. The large ones of Winander Mere and Ullswater lie on each side the lofty Kirkstone; the smaller ones of Grassmere and Leathes water on each side Dunmail Raise.

In the cool of the evening we walked back a mile and a half to Rydal, and, entering a door in the park-wall, had half a mile of steep ascent to the water-fall. The proprietor has had the discretion to let his place alone, wisely supposing he could not mend it. Except the necessary accommodation of a footpath, his hand does not appear in it. It would be injustice to judge of the fall in this dry ☛eason, which has emptied Lowdoor; but the

We were conducted out of the park the way we entered" But," said I, to our guide, "may not we see the small cascade?" For I was too learned not to know all we had to expect. He made no answer, but opened another door in the wall, which led us into a thick wood, almost excluding day-light. I did not think it possible for trees to have spread so deep a gloom. Emerging from this, we passed an open lawn, and entered another dark embowering shade. Here our guide opened the door of a mean looking building, and, though I knew what it was to offer to our view, I stood motionless when I entered it. Neither description or fancy could paint any thing so beautiful. Magic alone seemed equal to the effect. How, then, can I convey an idea of it to you? I can but say that we looked through a window, without either frame or glass, and saw, at a few yards distance, the water-fall, environed by trees, which shut out heaven above, and earth around. Over the top is thrown a bridge that is less picturesque than it has been; since humanity has added parapet walls; but if I had not been told the circumstance, I should not have imagined it could be more so than it is. A servant riding over it on a dark night, fell, with his horse, into the pool of the cascade below. They had neither of them any bones broken, and though much hurt, they both recovered; but parapet walls were immediately raised on the bridge, to prevent the possibility of such an accident in future. There are trout in the pool, and one may fish out of the window; but a party of Lakers, a few weeks ago, did much better. They dined in this enchanting retreat, and the poor trout dined with them.

Our road now lay by Kendal and Burton, to Lancaster; but not choosing to go the beaten track, we yesterday morning crossed the head of Winander Mere, and breakfasted at the little town of Hawkeshead, five miles from Ambleside. Before we reached it we had a charming view of the vale in which it stands, including Esthwaite water, about two miles in length. From Hawkeshead our road lay on

the border of the water; and, on quitting the vale, we passed through light woods, and by gentlemen's houses, till we came into the woods which skirt Winander Mere, of which we now and then caught a glance. At nine miles from Hawkeshead, we arrived again at Newly Bridge, having made the circuit of the banks of Winander Mere.

From Newly Bridge, I chose rather to encounter rocks I did not knew, than sands I did; and we came fourteen miles to Milthrop, over scars and mosses almost frightful. After a long and gradual ascent, we found ourselves on the top of a hill called Tawtop. Possibly, if the orthography adhered to the original meaning, it might be Tall-top. From hence we looked over a turbury below, to Witherslack Scar, which rose beyond; so destitute of verdure, that at the first glance Millichamp took the ash-coloured rock for ploughed fields. The descent from Tawtop was about half a mile, steeper than Kirkstone, steeper than any thing I ever saw, except the old Welsh road I mentioned before. I felt the same sensation here as there; fear least the horses should not be able to keep on four legs, as they walked slowly over such unequal ground. You may be assured we walked too,

[blocks in formation]

We did not arrive at Milthrop till late last night, and we shall not leave it till evening, on account of the heat. Cartmel, Hawkeshead, and Milthrop please me much. Three pleasant, poor, and quiet towns, that do not aitogether afford one post-chaise. There is only one inn in each, and that rather mean; but the people are civil, the provisions good, and the charges so moderate, that one would not think the same country supplied the food which furnishes the neighbouring inns on the great roads.

I was sitting to-day, after dinner, with Millichamp, when, his shirt-bosom being a little open, I espied a black ribband.

"Millichamp," said I, "what have you hanging to that ribband?"

He coloured, and replied, "A remembrance of Margaret."

"A picture?"
"No."

"A lock of hair?"
"No."

"What then?"

"I will tell you,” he answered; "because you will not laugh at me ; but I should be afraid to tell any other person."

He then drew from his bosom a bit of folded writing paper, which contained-what ?—a darn in a piece of diaper, in which the threads were as exactly laid as they had been at first by the shuttle of the weaver. I contradicted his good opinion of me; for I could not help

Having crossed the vale, a mixture of rock and peat, we ascended Witherslack Scar, as high as it is cultivated, and then went along its side, leaving the enormous ploughed rocks above. To this Scar succeeded one still higher, called Whitbarrow Scar, the rocky summit of which had exactly the appearance of a ruined castle. As I looked up, I fancied I could distinguish walls and towers. Be-laughing, and exclaiming, "What a rememlow us was Foulshaw Moss, with our road, brance! and by her own hand!" which is called the Long Causeway, running "You may laugh," said Millichamp; “but a across it, like a white thread; and beyond this picture would only have reminded me of my a better country. The Moss affords a pas- Margaret's beauty; a lock of hair would only sage to two small rivers, which join the Kent have attached my ideas to her person; this is a little farther down; and as nature, in con- an emblem of her virtues. This, as I will plaisance to these, has given them a valley as prove to you, proclaims her affection, inlevel as their own waters, she has made her-dustry, modesty, and talents. If she had not self amends, by raising a barrier of huge rocky fells on one side, and not very small rocks on the other. At Levens Bridge we crossed the Kent, and got into another world. No more

loved me, she would not have darned my night-cap. If she had not been industrious, she would not have darned it. And if she had not been modest, she would have told me she

had done it. And if she had not been ingenious and correct, she could not have done it so well."

"And so, as a proof of your Margaret's virtues, you cut it out of your night-cap?"

"I did; and determined to wear the hole

in it for her sake; but when it came from washing, it was mended again; though not so neatly as before. And I believe it was done in a coarser manner that the hand of the workwoman might not be suspected.” (To be continued.)

STORIES OF SEVEN DAYS.

(Continued from Vol. IV. Page 302.)

TALE VI. THE BOX ON THE EAR. THE sixth evening the Baroness called upon Monsieur De Versenay.

"I must frankly tell you, my friends," cried he," that the most interesting event of my life was occasioned by my giving a man with whom I did not feel offended, a box on the ear." "Truly," said the Baroness, "you are the last person whom I should suspect of such an exploit ; for your temper has always appeared to me remarkably placid."

“Why,” replied he, even my enemies would not, I believe, give me the character of a quarrelsome fellow; but I will hasten to explain to you this seeming enigma."

When I was about twenty-five, the death of my father gave me possession of a small independence, which, as I was naturally of a grave and studious turn, was sufficient for my wants and wishes. With all my gravity, however, I was disposed to see a little of the world; and I left Piccardy, where I had hitherto resided, with an intention of passing some months at Paris.

I hired apartments in the house of a gentleman who was a professor of languages; I found my host a pleasant and intelligent man, and as I did not go very much into public, I passed some part of my time with him and his wife, who was a good humoured, good-natured woman, with only one great fault, and that was a never-ceasing tongue!

One day, when I had returned as usual to my dinner, Madame St. Franc, my hostess, entrapped me in my way up stairs, and though I was excessively hungry, I was compelled to stop to listen to her account of a new lodger, a gentleman from the country, who had just

||

taken apartments from her, and who was, in her opinion, a perfect Adonis.

When she had ran herself out of breath, I ventured to ask after my dinner, which she was hurrying away to order, but she returned to assure me, that the new-comer was such a sweet modest young man, that it did her heart good to see how prettily he blushed.

Confound his blushes and your loquacity too, thought I, when I sat down to my dinner, which was so completely spoiled, that hungry as I was I could not eat it, and I sallied out in very ill humour; a couple of hours passed at the theatre restored me to myself; and on my return I accepted the invitation of my hostess to sup with her.

Our new inmate was of the party; I had supposed that I should see a raw provincial, with a glow of rude health, and an awkward simplieity of manner, and I was not a little surprised to find that I had been totally mistaken in my conjectures ; he was in reality the handsomest youth I had ever seen, and though it was evident that he was a total stranger to the world, yet there was a natural elegance in his manners, that was perhaps more pleasing than the most polished address; half an hour's conversation convinced me that he was possessed of a lively wit, and when at a late hour we retired to our separate apartments, I was almost as much pleased with him as my hostess had been.

A little time made Simours (for that was his name) and myself very intimate, and never surely were two people of such opposite tempers, so partial to each other; Simours was naturally of the gayest and most vivacious disposition, he had also an astonishing

quickness, and versatility of talent, and he conversed upon most subjects in a way that would have persuaded you he knew perfectly what he was talking about; yet that was far from being the case, for with great quickness he had no solidity, and between the natural indolence of his temper, and his aversion to severe scolastic pursuits, he was far from being learned; but he rallied his own ignorance on some subjects with so much grace and vivacity, and in the lighter branches of literature, displayed so much taste and talent, that he was altogether the pleasantest companion that I had ever met with; in short, we soon became the modern Pylades and Orestes, when an event happened that threatened to burst the bonds of friendship between us.

There was a pretty young milliner lived in our neighbourhood, with whom I had contrived to make an acquaintance by purchasing some trifles from her; I had at first only intended a little harmless flirtation, but by degrees I grew partial to the girl, whom I thought Simours seemed to look upon with an eye of preference, and I rallied him about her.

"I believe Nina is a good and prudent girl," said he;" and you may be assured that I shall never render her otherwise; and now, my friend, as you have mentioned the subject, I ask what are your intentions towards ber?" I hardly knew how to reply; I had, however, no settled purpose of seduction, || and I said so.

may

"And do you then," replied he, with severity, “think, that because you do not mean to rob this girl of her chastity, that you act honourably in paying her attentions, which may, by gaining her heart, render her un. happy for life?"

"Hey-day, my dear little Mentor," cried I, laughing, "who the deuce would expect a sermon from you; it is true I like the girl, ber person pleases, and her conversation amuses me, but I am not such a coxcomb as to imagine that because I trifle and talk nonsense to her, she must of course fall in love with me; no, no, my friend, the hearts of women are not so very vulnerable, believe me; but come, Simours, I more that half suspect that you take a tender interest for Nina; if it

is so, frankly tell me, and I will trifle with her

no more."

"I swear to thee, my dear De Versenay," cried he, "that I have not the least inclination for the girl; but for her peace and your honour's sake, I wish you would promise me to drop the very pointed attentions which you pay her."

As I was fully sensible that Simours was right, I readily gave him the promise which he required, and nearly a week had elapsed without my seeing Nina; when one evening as I was sauntering past her door, I perceived Simours come out of it. Nina attended him to it, and he stopped a moment." Good night, my dear little Nina," said he, taking her hand." God bless you, my dear Chevalier," replied she; " do not forget to let me see you to-morrow night."-" Depend upon me," cried he; and with a shake of the hand they parted.

"Is this well, Simours," cried I, stepping up to him indignantly, "to treat your friend so disingenuously; you have deceived me, and if I thought it worth my while, I would insist upon satisfaction."

"And you shall have it instantly," cried he; "I am about to bestow Nina in marriage." "You! "repeated I, incredulously. "Yes, I," cried he;" she has been for some time beloved by a young man, who was only deterred from soliciting her hand because he had it not in his power to support her; I have, thank Heaven, both the will and the power to render them both happy, and in a week Nina gives her hand to her lover." "But why was this concealed from me?" said I.

"I never meant to conceal it from you," replied he; "for it is only to-night that I have settled the matter, and I meant to have informed you of it as soon as I had reached home."

"Well," cried I, "the young couple have my best wishes, and they shall have something

more."

"No, De Versenay," said he, "I can do all that is necessary for them; and surely to all the purposes to which wealth can be applied, there is not one so delightful as that of ren dering two faithful lovers happy."

« ПредишнаНапред »