arms. They sat down together upon the rock; and William, as if he had never seen the place before, looked round upon a scene which was to be so long and deeply impressed upon his memory. They were sitting on the side of a deep glen through which flowed a clear stream, sometimes entirely hidden by the shrubs which bent over its surface, and sometimes visible to the eye in the form of broad and smooth pools. The depth of the glen prevented the flowing of the waters from being heard, except in low, continuous murmurs; and even where it was broken into falls, by rocks, or trees which had been swept down by the winter torrents, the white foam, seen without being heard, conveyed the idea of motion without accompanying noise, as if the stream was stealing silently onward in its path, unwilling to interrupt the stillness of the morning with the sound of its flowing. The sides of the glen were thickly covered with hazel bushes and other shrubs; except when occasionally a huge rock, which seemed, in some convulsion of nature, to have been detached from the top and then arrested midway, by a magic skill, raised its grey head, ornamented only by a pale coloured moss, and the bushes of the small blue berry, barren and withered before their season. Every variety of the autumnal tints might be seen from the faded green to the palest yellow; but the melancholy aspect which these ensigns of decay gave to the scene was often relieved by the heath flowers, gleaming at intervals, through the leaves, and by the red berries of the mountain ash which hung here and there in ripe clusters. The sun was now advanced a little way on his journey, but, as yet, had only partially scattered the morning mist which still hung above the ridges of the glen like a barrier to separate it from the rest of the world.

The lovers, indeed, might have imagined themselves to be in a little world of their own, the sole inhabitants of the

romantic domain; but, if such a thought had crossed their mind, the idle dream was soon dissipated:-a sudden gust from the mountains swept along the glen, the awakened waters grew black and ruffled, as if frowning at the intrusion, the branches waved tumultuously, some hares and wild birds started from their covert, the mist passed away from the hills, and, in a moment, all the world seemed to be astir. William sprang upon his feet, and clasped the weeping Mary in his arms; even the dog roused himself from beside them, where he had lain down and thrust his head between, as if to claim a farewell too. Mary sank upon her knees, and threw her arms about the neck of the faithful animal— but when she raised her head, her lover was gone. She heard the crashing of the branches as he rushed down the sides of the glen, and saw the stones plunge into the water, which he dislodged in his progress. The dog licked her hand for a moment, and then sprang after his master, through the trees.

I have said that mine is a love story, and nothing but a love story it shall be. I leave it, therefore, to others, to paint the progress through the world of a young man of good natural abilities and prepossessing appearance, assisted in his efforts by a train of fortunate events. Let them follow him from his first setting out, indigent in circumstances, but lofty and generous in feeling; then receiving, in place of the beautiful simplicity of mind with which he had begun, the refinement and polish of the world—as the plum loses its down by touching, but still retains within its sweetness and its flavour; and, at length, arriving at that desired haven of ease and competence, where, if human ambition could ever rest, or human folly could ever die, he might fight over again his battles with the world at his own fire-side, think of his past misfortunes, without pain, and of his present joys

with thankfulness,-look downwards, without contempt, and upwards, without envy.

At this haven of ease and competence had William Græme arrived, just nine years after he left his native hills. The strapping plaided highlander had become (heaven knows by what process) a well-bred man of the world,—— and, as such, was received in genteel society. Upon occasion, however, a certain brusquerie of manner might be observable, which betrayed that something still remained to be done-that some down on the plum has as yet escaped the busy finger of refinement. It might, perhaps, be supposed that a man arriving at this comparatively dizzy height, might have forgotten the obscurity from which he had risen, or, at least, would sedulously endeavour to forget what he might conceive to be degrading to remember,-as the climber keeps his eyes fixed upwards, lest he should fall, if he turned them below. But Græme was not a man of this description; he looked forward constantly with an ardent longing to the day when he should be enabled to revisit his native hills, and his early love. In the midst of his good fortune, he had still a secret treasure, which he viewed with greater joy than all the wealth of the east could have afforded him-it was the now withered heath-flower, the pledge of Mary's love, which she had given to him at their last interview, and with this simple gift what a train of associations were linked! It was all that now remained to him, who rushed down the sides of Glenoe to recall the ideas of former times, of his native mountains, his early hopes, of his father's grave. It was like a sea shell found on the top of a mountain, which draws the traveller's thoughts from the business of his journey, and fixes them upon a world which has passed away. At the end of nine years, he found himself more in love than he had been at the beginning, and the image of his highland

Mary was more constantly before his eyes. But were it not a pity to inspect too minutely what is, at first view, so amiable, there might appear, I am afraid, in this marvellous fidelity somewhat of self-delusion. It may be a very fine thing to say that there is nothing inconsistent with true refinement in the manners and recreations of humble life-that the tournure of a woman's person may be as elegantly displayed when labouring at the churn, as when playing the harp,-when romping with her sweatheart on a harvest field, as when gliding through a quadrille at Almack's;—yet, if the élegante of the town and the country were set side by side in a drawing room, it can hardly be a question to which even the most devoted admirer of simplicity would give the preference. And, in this situation, William must often have placed in imagination his rural beauty; that she should still, therefore, retain her dominion over a heart for which the candidates were neither few nor undeserving, my fair readers may, in the meantime, attribute, if they please, to the natural truth and constancy of man's mind, and wait as patiently as they can for the denouement.

For my part, I shall be silent on the subject; I am only the historian of facts, and have nothing to do with senti

ments.

The time at length arrived, when Mr. Græme (as he was now called) was enabled to settle his affairs, and set out to revisit Glenoe. Immediately upon his arrival in Edinburgh, he hastened to deliver a few letters and compliments with which he had been charged by his friends in the south, and waited impatiently to take the wings of the morning for his farther journey. One of these, however, produced an invitation for the same evening, which he accepted. Mr. Gordon, the gentleman he visited, had a daughter, young, beautiful, and rich; with whom I am sorry to say,

Mr. Græme had carried on a very strong flirtation sometime before when they had met in London. William meant, or imagined he meant, nothing by his attentions; indeed he would have conceived it high treason to honour and to love, to waste one thought upon another than the fair mountaineer, save merely pour passer le temps; but the embarrassed timidity with which the elegant and high-bred Miss Gordon received his devoirs on this evening, shewed that if she had began in play it had to her ended in earnest, and proved the truth of the adage "that it is dangerous sporting with edge tools." A few minutes were sufficient to renew the intimacy that had subsisted between them, and the evening passed on delightfully. At length the hour of parting arrived; and, if he pressed the fair hand extended to him with a more than lowland cordiality, this is a vice peculiar to the hills, and it was no fault of his-and if the pressure was returned-O no! it was accident-it was fancy-that slight, hardly perceptible touch; yet it thrilled through every nerve as if the small delicate fingers had been pressed upon his heart. He was at some distance from the house before he recollected that he had omitted to inform Miss Gordon of his intention to leave town in the morning: this was so stupid, so unpardonable, to be obliged to go without so much as bidding adieu to friends who had treated him with so much distinction and kindness! No, he would rather sacrifice his own happiness for one day longer than be guilty of such a rudeness; besides what was one day in addition to nine years? This was certainly a singular instance of self-denial; the happiness he had been ardently longing for every day for nine years was now within his reach, but he resolved to set down upon the brink for a whole day to make his bows to the passers by.