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possess charms accompanied by a softness of manner, and sensibility of character, which awaken an interest within the breast of all who are within their influence.
Thus endowed, and thus attracting, Mary caught the libertine admiration, the meretricious passion of Mr. Freeman. Though this gentleman had every reason to be attached to his wife, he had not been the constant husband she merited to possess, and he now resolved to make another offering at the shrine of infidelity.
His continual assiduities appeared to the credulous unsuspecting Mary, as the attentions of a friend, and he was obliged to speak very plain language, before she conceived the purport of his designs—but when the veil was drawn aside, the situation of her mind became truly deplorable.
To acquaint Mrs. Freeman with the conduct of her husband, would be to plant a dagger in her bosom, and to remain liable to his insults, would be indeed to risque every thing dear to a woman of honour, delicacy, and feeling: she therefore transmitted a perfect account of every occurrence to her father, and implored his immediate presence to snatch her from ruin.
In the interval, Mr. Freeman had laid his plans so sure, that he succeeded in the consummation of them-he procured an opiate to be administered, and basely took an advantage of insensibility.
Mary awakened as from a delirium-she found herself in a strange apartment-in a strange bed. She found herself in the arms of her villainous seducer.
Outrage was the immediate consequenceman explanation produced insanity, which brought on a fever that confirmed her disorder into permanent distraction.
On the instant the honest old steward received his daughter's letter, he set off for the metropolis. When he arrived at Mr. Freeman's he was informed by a servant, that Mary had eloped, but with whom they could not tell.
The unhappy father divined the worstand by the interference of a magistrate, after some difficulty, he got admittance to his wretched child.-Let us draw a veil over this interview.
The father is no more and the wife of Freeman is at the point of death.-Poor Mary remains a maniac, yet sensible of her wretchedness.
“Tell that villain, Freeman," said she to a friend that visited her --"tell him, he may live in plenty, but not in peace. I shall haunt him at the banquet-and scare him at the midnight revel. Tell him, his sin is recorded, and at the last day he will find me his accuser, and the ALMIGHTY his JUDGE."
THE BIRTH OF A POESY-AN ALLEGORY.
The youthful God of Love, having roamed one fine summer evening into the depths of a forest, found himself bewildered in its mazes. In vain be sought for an avenue by which he might emerge ; thickets of roses and vines, twining their clustering arms, opposed him at every turn.
Fatigued with this ramble, he threw his bow from his hand, and disencumbering himself of his quiver, he cast his polished limbs upon a bed of delicious violets, whose fragrance seemed to invite him to sleep. He closed his eyes, and was already in fancy wasted back to the gardens of Cytherea, when the warm air of a gentle sigh, breathing over his cheek awakened him. He looked up, and beheld a beautiful nymph bending over his head : she held her tresses in her hand, forming a golden mantle, with which she shaded the sleeping god from the hot gleams of the setting sun.
When the celestial eyes of Love opened upon the virgin, she receded from the spot; but the aroused god sprung from his bed of flowers, and, pursuing the flying nymph, chased her with nimble feet from the green covert to the winding recesses of her çave. Still she fled—the breath of love panted on her neck; his glowing fingers at intervals mingled with her hair, which the wary zephyrs bore away from his grasp.
A broad river stopped her course : sinking with terror and despair, she staggered and fell: the youthful deity caught her within his rosy arms, and bore her back to the cave. His caresses restored her to life. For her he deserted the banquets of Olympus, and for her he rejected the incense of ten thousand virgins on the shores of Paphos.
Thus of Love and the nymph Solitude was born the seraphic form of Poesy. This lovely offspring of immortal tenderness drew from the balmy lips of her father that honeyed softness which trembles on her tongue : but it is only to the chaste ears of her mother, amid grots and secret groves, that she pours forth all the warmth and pathos of her song.
(From the New European Magazine).
There was a maid who dwelt among the hills
Whenever I arrive at any town or village my first visit is usually to the church-yard ; and as it has been my lot to lead a very unsettled and wandering sort of life, there are few cemeteries in the kingdom that are unknown to me. It may appear a strange fancy, but I am a strange man, and therefore this sepulchral predilection is perfectly in unison with my customary habits and feelings. A poignant disappointment in early life, -not in a pecuniary point of view, for I should not have minded that-I could have remedied it,-has tinctured my mind with melancholy, and, it inay be, with morosenesss; and 'tis therefore perhaps that I love to wander among the verdant graves of the retired village burial place, pondering upon the instabillity and vanity of all earthly desires, as I read in the rudely-sculptured tomb-stones “ the short and simple annals of the poor.”
If there be any particular district in the kingdom which I most delight to visit, it is North Wales, for in many of the secluded parts of that beautiful country the peasants are extremely sedulous in decorating the graves of their departed friends and kindred with turfs and wild-flowers. It is a pleasing custom, and never may it be abolished !
I had arrived late one evening, in July, 18**, at a little town in Denbighshire, on my accustomed idle pilgrimage, and early the next morning I strolled into the church-yard, which is here situated at the foot of a small hillock to the north of the hamlet. There is something peculiarly interesting to me in this delightful spot, placed as it is amidst so many wild and frowning mountains. It is impossible to convey an adequate description of it by words, but the following beautiful lines of a true but neglected poet, will disclose some of it's numerous attractions :
A scene sequester'd from the haunts of men,
MONTGOMERY'S WORLD BEFORE THE FLOOD.
It was a most lovely morning. The suinmer sun was shining with all its glory, and the dew-drops still glittered on the flowerleaves. I had more than once before visited this enchanting spot -for, as I have alr observed, it is a favourite of mine,-but I never saw it as I saw it then, glowing so brightly in the beams of a brilliant morning. I was leaning against the tomb of one, who, although a wealthy man, had chosen to repose under the green sod of the church-yard, rather than the stony floor of the temple, when two old men entering the burial place, approached the spot where I stood, and proceeded to remove the planks from a half-excavated grave, which I now perceived was close to a mound of earth, adorned with turfs and flowers. One of these worthies was the ancient grave-digger of the village, and the other apparently his deputy, for they both set about their work with that calm and steady indifference which characterizes the mournful avocations of this class of labourers. They made their obeisance to me as they passed, and were soon engaged in the garrulous and trivial gossiping of old age. The grave was speedily finished, the boards were removed to a distance, and the old men left me to my meditations. I do not know how long I should have remained thus buried in thought, “ deep, soothing, and delightful," if the dull and melancholy tolling of the churchbell had not roused me from my reverie, and turned my thoughts into another channel. The sun shone forth in all its brilliancy, and numberless birds carolled in gladness their song of praise and gratitude : but the bell sent forth its sullen knell at intervals, and cast a gloom over my mind, which all the inspiring influence of so beautiful a prospect could not counteract : still I could not quit the spot. An irresistible curiosity impelled me to remain, that I might witness the last, sad, solemn ceremony due to the remains of poor mortality : I had not to tarry long. A soft and murmuring melody, “ borne up the valley by the morning breeze," reached me at intervals, like the fitful aud melancholy cadence of the Æolian harp; and walking forth in the direction whence the sound proceeded, I descried a funeral procession moving mournfully along the side of the mountain, and the newly made grave at my feet indicated that this was the final resting-place of the approaching corpse. In this part of the kingdom it is always customary to escort the body to the grave with hymns adapted to the occasion ; these are generally exceedingly plaintive and harmonious, and usually sung by females, and the effect of their beautiful and appropriate minstrelsy is indescribable. Nothing can be more impressive than it's influence ; for there is a solemnity attached to it which strikes at once to the heart, is infinitely more affecting than the pomp and splendour of a metropolitan funeral. On this occasion, I remember, I was particularly affected with the dirge-like cadence of the mournful melody, as it reached me softened by the distance ; while the weeping mourners, preceded by the Pastor of the village and twelve young maidens clad in white, presented a spectacle of deep and affecting interest.
I advanced to meet the procession, and having joined it, turned back and proceeded by the side of the mournful train towards the church-yard. It was composed of nearly thirty persons. First walked the Minister, from whom I received a kind look of recognition, for well he knew “the Wanderer,” and on whose benignant features were expressed the deepest sorrow. Then came the twelve lovely singers, and after them followed the coffin on a bier supported by four young men, and covered with a white pall, borne by four females, and intimating that the relics it' contained were those of a pure and spotless maiden. The first of the mourners was an old and venerable women, the grandmother, as I afterwards learned, of the departed virgin,--tottering under the weight of age and sorrow, yet walking fearlessly onward, unsupported even in her sad infirmity, and leading by the band a little girl, who had scarcely passed the bounds of infancy, and who, of all her kindred, alone remained to solace her declining years. After this aged female came her weeping friends ; and
-- wailing with funeral hymns
The long procession moved." When we arrived at the gothic porch of the church, the bier was placed upon the ground, and the clergyman pronounced over