father turned a deaf ear to all she said, and, soon after daybreak on the following morning, the disconsolate Maria, and her afflicted parent, were on their way to the north of England.

In a retired spot, not far from the castle of Alnwick, in Northumberland, lived the widow of one of Mr. Matthews's brothers, and with her Maria was placed, with strong injunctions not to be allowed to write to any one excepting her father. After a short stay Mr. Matthews returned to town, in the hopes that the unfortunate connexion of his daughter was effectually broken off.

Mrs. Matthews strove to make her niece as happy as her isolated situation would allow, but the delusion of love reigned over her heart, and she contrived, whilst writing to her father, to scrawl a few lines to Captain Merton, informing him of her present abode. In a few days the captain sought her out, and, within six weeks of leaving her father's home, Mr. Matthews received a letter from his sister, informing him that Maria was missing, but how no one could discover. The father's anguish may be better felt than expressed. All his efforts to discover her were vain; and this calamity was evidently a death-blow to one whose sole consolation in this life was the society of an only child.

In about three weeks he received a letter from Maria, stating that she was travelling in France,-that she was happy, and that she should soon throw herself at the feet of her revered parent, and beg his forgiveness for having become the wife of Captain Merton.

"If it is so if she is the wife of Captain Merton, she has my forgiveness,pray heaven it may be so! but I fear she is still acting under the fatal delusion of hope. No addressno clue by which I can find out my poor mistaken fugitive. Well-be it so-) -let me hope for the best; if he has acted honorably by her he shall inherit all that I possess. My journey in this world will soon be over, and they shall have my benediction; "but I have my fearful forebodings," said he, wiping a tear from his eyes, and heaving a long drawn sigh.

Week after week-month after month elapsed, and no farther tidings from Maria. Her father's wasting form indicated the trouble of his mind, at the same time it showed the kindly hand of death would soon release him from the pangs

he suffered. At length, however, the fatal truth burst upon him. He received a letter from the landlord of an inn at Nismes, informing him, that, at the request of a Mrs. Merton, he wrote to say that she was extremely ill in his house-that he feared her recovery was past all hopes-that she was so weak she could not write herself; and that she begged Mr. Matthew's would not delay visiting her.

A flood of tears relieved a father's breaking heart, and the same evening he left London on his way to Nismes. In about four days he reached his destination, but only in time to see the lifeless corpse of his only child. The string of life was already drawn too tight to bear this last shock, and it snapt as he hung over the pale lips of his heart's sole delight. The pitying angel, who looked on, saw his happiness on this earth was ended, and bore his spirit to those realms where bliss finds no alloy.

By the letters found in Maria's trunk, it was evident that she had not been married; but that she had, in a fatal moment, become the unwilling victim of Captain Merton's base artifices. The landlord of the inn, finding Mr. Matthews's address on his luggage, had it sent to London, accompanied with an account of the melancholy events; and the two bodies he caused to be buried in the same grave.

TO MARY, SLEEPING.

BY HENRY JAMES MELLER.

How sweet in slumber beauty seems,
Pressing the downy pillow,
While fancy paints in elysian dreams,
Joy, smiling on life's billow.

Oh, would it were for ever so!
That gentle bosom heaving,

Might ne'er those visions blest forego,

To wake to worldly grieving.

Sleep on! sleep on! with gay dreams blest

They may not be to-morrow;

'Mong fancy's flow'rs the mind may rest,

For joy beams bright from sorrow.

HONEYFORDE HALL.

A WEST COUNTRY TALE.-IN OLDEN TIMES.

So was he caught with beautee of this maid,

And to himself full prively he said

This maiden shall be min for any man:

Anon the sprite into his berte ran,

And taught him sodenly that he by sleight
This maiden to his purpos winnen might.

The Doctoure's Tale.

'Squire Honeyforde, who resided near Malmesbury, in the county of Wilts, was one of those men who took more than ordinary pride in hounds and falconry,-but most in the baiting bulls, of his own breed and growth, and accustomed to fight in his domain to his own taste. At such seasons, the tenants round were invited to witness the prowess manifested, during which the greatest hospitality prevailed. The present instance, however, arose out of an extaordinary impulse of wounded passion, when the rage of the fiercest of British animals is at its sanguinary height, that a combat was announced between men and a red bull in fair play at Honeyforde Hall. A general invitation was given, and a general acceptance recognised. The court ring being formed, the stakes driven in with perfect security, a stage was erected for the visitors, and a balcony before the windows, in which daughters and wives would sit adorned in splendid arrayment.

This anticipated recreation, once so popular in this country, gave life and discord the previous day through at the Honeyforde Arms,' a low thatched inn, with a bulging parlour window, filled with bowls and ladles, and benches standing behind the great elm, half in view of the manor, and half in way of the church path and stocks to Somerforde Villa.' Here, by men in liquor, bows were drawn, the market butts in continual brawls, pitched battles fought in the close behind the house, and not a crispin waxed his twine, or a hammer touched the anvil; priests might go unshod to the shrine, horses pass to the next smithy, and even criminals ride on hurdles, without gaze, to hang in fetters and chains under the gallows on the road side, near which their crimes were perpetrated. The approaching bull-fight made the greatest impression, and rivetted every jolly craftsman's heart :-never was

the chivalrous spirit of gasconade so fruitful and obtrusive!All night, till the next day's noon, the contending parties brawled in defiance of book and bell! Wrestling Joel, the smith's pot-valiant hobbinol son, flourished his brawny arms in the fray, and challenged every intruder, or not. Thrice he struck the stranger, who had taken a night's lodging at the inn to engage in the ensuing feats; but this stranger had reasons for not returning his resentment in the way the smith's deserts merited; he, therefore, merely smiled in contempt for the insults offered him. The host, too, a short, rotund, one-sided crab-moving lump of laughing clay, chided Joel, and begged the stranger not to heed the varlet, whose hardihood was to be engaged in the conflict at the 'squire's with the red bull. "I'll give thee ten pieces of gold, thou Vulcan of smoke," said the stranger, "if thou forego this fight; for I have a presentiment thou wilt be carried away from the spot a spectacle of blood."

Joel flashed his saucer eyes in their hooped sockets, and, with clenched fists and wrestling motions for a lock, was ready to level the stranger with the earth, had not the host, and the tottering but masculine bellfounder, interfered, by grasping him in the poll.

"I take thy gold!" he indignantly replied,-" no !—I, who have beaten as many bulls as there are nails in a horse shoe! I take thy gold? Do'st know that he who defeats the red bull shall make the lovely Rose his bride?"

"But why so?" asked the stranger, peremptorily, "wherefore this boon?"

"Wherefore ask? dost thou know the 'squire is his own master, and makes what oaths he pleases without asking his vassals leave; as thou art one- -peace! or I'll shoe thy hoofs as a wild colt."

"Thou'rt a presumptuous brangler!" continued the stranger; "but if thou spurnest gold, spurn not advice given thee in good will; for the red foe might defeat thee." This said, the stranger, settling the demands of Boniface, left the inn. By my ale!" muttered Boniface-" Joel! thou art the greatest fool alive, to try for a 'squire's pet when thou canst not keep a clean shirt on thy back: if thou wert to win, the 'squire would go from his word, somehow or other. Consider, ten pieces of gold would have given thee a swill for

life thou might'st have sat on the bench, and swinked from sunrise to sunset, and enough to shrive. Get thee gone,arrant knave!" Joel, who had not thought of this, ran out after the stranger to arrange matters, but he was nearly up the hill to the hall.

Before we proceed further in our narrative, we remark that 'Squire Honeyforde was a noble figure, rather in years: he was very stern, and romanlike :-he stood the tallest, and had been the strongest man, excepting Joel, in the hamlet:-he had risked his life many times with his bulls, but the red buil he could not, to his utter mortification, completely conquer. His daughter Rose was his only child she was dearer to him than his life,- beautiful, and enchanting. The proffers of lovers to her had been many: they were sent away, whether knight or lord, without mercy. There was one, however, the son of a noble shrieve in the shire, whom the 'squire had caught with Rose in repeated conversations by stealth, and whom he wounded dangerously by an arrow for his intercourse; and who, after he recovered, retired awhile into Spain upon his father's concerns. This was the youth that held the power of Rose's passions, and chained them by unseen and kindred links to his breast:-this was the stranger alluded to at the inn, who learned, in his return, of the proffered adventure, to gratify a parent's ambition at the expense of a daughter's happiness, and who resolved to lose his life, or win his fair lady love.

During his visit to the continent, he acquired a perfect knowledge in the manner of the contests, which are so popular abroad, with bulls, and was therefore more confident of success in the coming occasion: on this he relied, and trusted, when discovered, he should be thought worthy of the hearttreasured prize.

The noon was one of the most placid that the skies beamed over the sons of men; and the sun loitered on his summer couch, reposing in blushes and tints of the softest of nature's penciling. The insect world assisted in the free use of the mellow hours, and birds gave sweetness out of their hallowed bosoms.

Preparations being now made, the companies arrived at the scene of action:-never was there such a presentation. The serving-men were all in their best silver and green liveries,L. 29. 1.

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