my miniature? It was intended for my mother, but our unhappy family disputes, owing to the political course I have adopted, would not allow me to present it. In the hurried and hazardous life to which I must still a little longer be doomed, I may perchance lose it, or I may myself be lost. It will be a consolation to me to know that it is in your possession, especially should it ever lead you to bestow a thought upon the original — pardon the presumption of the idea! Keep it concealed, I pray you, for your own sake; and should its preservation be attended with the smallest shadow of risk, consign it with this letter instantly to the flames.

Ungrateful that I am! How can I have written so much without adverting to your inestimable friend, my other fair preserver? Oh, that delicate and gentle, but brave and magnanimous girl! Never, never shall I forget her tender watchfulness, the mild melody of her voice, the affectionate heroism of her conduct. Convey to her, I beseech you—it is all I have

to offer the homage of a fervent gratitude,

which can never decay until my heart shall cease to throb.

"Farewell, thou paragon of thy sex! Accept the prayers and benedictions of one who pants for the day, when no consideration for the safety of others may withhold him from subscribing to his letters a name, which never has been, and never shall be sullied with a dishonourable action.

Ever, ever yours,

66

"P.S. Forgive the subjoined hasty effusion. It was written to beguile an hour during my night voyage, and was never intended to meet the eye of her to whom it is addressed.

STANZAS TO AGATHA.

""Tis Night- my bark is on the Ocean,
No sound I hear-no sight I see,
Not e'en the darken'd waves, whose motion
Still bears me, Agatha, from thee!
But from the misty skies are gleaming
Two smiling stars, that look, my love,
As if thy veiled eyes were beaming
Benignly on me from above.

A single plank must stem the surges
That might engulf me as I sleep,
While our frail vessel blindly urges

Her flight athwart the moonless deep.
Yet is my heart serene and fearless,

For Heaven shall guide the wanderer's track;
Nor can my midnight dreams be cheerless,
For still to thee they waft me back.

'Tis sweet on the benighted billow
To trust in Him whom all adore ;
'Tis sweet to hope that from her pillow
Beauty for me her vows may pour.
The winds, self-lullabied, are dozing,

The winking stars withdraw their light;
Thine eyes, perchance, are also closing,

Good night, mine Agatha, good night!

To describe the agonizing emotions of Edith, as, not without the greatest difficulty, and, after repeated efforts, she finished the perusal of this letter, would be utterly impossible. It seemed as if the only hope that had buoyed up her sinking soul, the single tie and stay that had supported her shattered heart amid the threatened shipwreck of all its happiness, had been violently wrenched away and snapped asunder. Disappointment, wretchedness, shame, a hun

dred hornet thoughts assailed and stung her brain at the same moment. She had formed an attachment to the destined husband of her friend, for such he seemed to be, and to that very friend had she made the confession of her ill-starred passion. Agatha and Forester were devoted were betrothed to each other; such was the construction she put upon the letter, a pervading thought which soon overpowered every other, leaving her mind, exhausted by the fierce struggle of her emotions, in a state of pitiable bewilderment and stupor. The miniature, the letter, the room itself, every thing swam before her eyes; she uttered a shuddering groan, and tottering towards the bed, which stood in a recess at one end of the apartment, had hardly strength sufficient to throw herself upon it.

A temporary insensibility ensued, when, just as she was again opening her eyes, and recovering consciousness of what had occurred, Agatha re-entered the chamber, and hurrying towards the table, exclaimed-"Imprudent that I was! how could I leave these precious yet perilous

relics thus exposed? how could I forget the injunctions I had received? What a noble likeness of a noble-minded man! Commit it to the flames in case of danger! Never-never! The letter indeed shall be destroyed, for, guarded as it is, it might betray more than one secret that I would fain keep concealed; but, as for thee, thou faithful image of a patriot and a hero! until a better hiding-place can be found for thee, thou shalt lie here, next to that heart in which thine original is preserved."-She kissed the miniature tenderly, and was depositing it in her bosom, when, a deep groan occasioning her to start and turn hastily round, she ejaculated, in a tone of profound astonishment "Gracious Heaven! Edith, dearest Edith, is it you?"

--

Perceiving the deplorable plight of her friend, and instantly attributing it to the real cause, she ran towards her, rather instinctively than with any definite notion of what she should say or do in a crisis so exquisitely painful and embarrassing to both parties. Edith, however, was quickly beyond the reach of any solace